Page 87 of Daddy By Design

Even in the daylight, it made for a statement.

I’d had plans for the broken blacktop and the strip of patchy grass that used to be a small airstrip. Making it a place people would travel to for Halloween for an epic haunted maze.

All the things a man would do with adult money he had no business having.

But Lyric Bledsoe, the woman I’d hired to run the shop, had done well in my stead. Whenever she asked for money, I gave it without question. She’d improved the windows and the parking lot. Surprisingly, there were quite a few cars in the lot. She’d moved my Killer Clowns From Outer Space sculpture to the front door, which actually made me laugh.

Campy horror was a secret love of mine.

My sister had always given me a hard time about it when we were kids. That it was gore for gore’s sake, not the actual story. But the first time I’d seen Army of Darkness, I’d been hooked and had sought out more ridiculous movies.

The candy store was a testament to over-the-top horror with enough camp to not scare the crap out of kids too much.

I parked on the side of the building and made my way inside. Two women were working the front and another guy in his twenties was on the floor restocking shelves.

Lyric came out from the back with her iPad in hand. Her dark hair was plated in a series of braids and she wore black on black with a half apron around her waist with the blood splatter and my logo that we’d designed together.

I stayed to the back of the store and took a look around at the candy dispensers with each metal sculpture peeking out of the tops. A twisted M&M character, a troll with Starburst candies bursting from his mouth, a gummy bear with a knife tinged with neon green.

I’d had such fun designing the store.

Making something that had nothing to do with a commission. Just my own imagination.

I’d been in a fugue state when I’d built it and worked around the clock for those three weeks. Knowing I had only so much time to myself had actually activated my brain instead of making it shut down like it usually did for the pieces I was paid for.

I grinned at the babydoll in overalls with bulging eyes.

“Cool, isn’t it?”

I turned at the voice. The lanky guy stocking shelves grinned. His hair was overlong on top and shaved on the sides. His name tag said Jensen.

His eyes widened a little at my scars, but he locked it down quickly. I saw his fingers twitch at his side. “Helluva face, man.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Can’t say I like it.”

“You should. Interesting as f—uh, hell.”

I arched my eyebrow at him.

The kid grinned. “Sorry. I do art. Interesting faces are way more...well, interesting to draw. Don’t suppose?—”

“Not a chance.”

He shrugged. “Worth a shot. Would be good for my portfolio. Anyway. Can I help you find something?”

“Nolan?” Lyric’s voice came from behind Jensen. “Oh my God. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

Jensen turned. “You know this guy?”

“This guy owns this place, Jensen.”

“Oh.” His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, shit. I should have recognized you. We talked about you in my modern art class. Scar and the beard—you look way different.”

Lyric gave a pained sigh. “Don’t mind him. Jensen doesn’t really have a filter.”

“I prefer no filter.” And the idea of someone talking about me in an art class made my gut clench.

Lyric nodded toward the front of the store. “C’mon back.”

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