Page 13 of When the Storm Breaks
He shrugged. “There’s no rulebook that says I have to listen to country music.”
“Even if there was, you’d probably break every rule in that book.”
“Feels like you already know everything’ about me. Or at least youthinkyou do.”
“Well, all you have to do is Google me and you can find out anything you want.” That wasn’t true. There was plenty that you wouldn’t find by Googling me. But he could learn more than I’d ever want him to. Had he already Googled me? “Seems like you have me at an unfair advantage.”
“Them’s the breaks of reaching for the stars, Sugar Lips.”
“How many girls have you called by that name?”
He grinned. “More than I can count. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a shitload of work to do.”
“Nobody’s keeping you.”
“I’d beg to differ.” He tilted his chin down to prove his point. My hand was on his chest and I swear to God I had no idea how it had gotten there or when my feet had carried me this close but here I was, my hand over his heart, the hard muscles of his chest taut under my palm.
I removed my hand and let it fall to my side, so he was free to go. Which was exactly what he did. “See you around,Shy,” he called over his shoulder and I heard him laughing as he strode away, headed into the sun. Maybe I should have offered him a ride to wherever he was going but I didn’t.
I had a shitload of things to do too and I’d already slept half my day away.
The first thing I had to do was shower and then I could get my stalking game on.
It had been a stroke of luck when this cottage showed up on the website. I’d taken it as a sign that this was exactly where I was supposed to be. On this very ranch owned by none other than Brody McCallister. Former rodeo bare bronc rider. Rescuer of wild horses. Horse breeder and trainer.
But most importantly, Noah’s daddy.
* * *
I’d been sittingin the truck for twenty minutes, slumped down in the seat, music blasting in my ears when a silver SUV pulled into the parking lot. I cut the music and stared out the windshield, my heart hammering against my rib cage as the SUV pulled into a space further up the row and across from me. Perfect. They’d have to walk past my truck to get to the dance studio.
Thanks to the private investigator I’d hired, I knew their daily routine.
A slim brunette got out of the driver’s seat. Meredith Peterson. She was in her late thirties, dressed in khaki capris, a short-sleeve blouse and ballet flats. She looked nice. Approachable. Sensible. Like a soccer mom. The opposite of me in every way. I held my breath as she rounded the back of the car and opened the passenger door. Seconds later, the little girl emerged, and Meredith took her hand and led her away from the car.
I studied the girl’s face, searching for some resemblance. Her brown hair, lighter than mine was the same shade as Dean’s and it was smoothed back into a high ponytail. She was small-boned and delicate, wearing a lilac leotard with an attached skirt that looked like petals. My little bird. She walked with a bounce in her step and passed right in front of my truck, without even noticing me.
There goes my baby girl.
She looked happy. And that was what I’d wanted for her. A loving family. A good life.
Everything I couldn’t give her at eighteen when I was dirt poor and left to do it all on my own.
I watched her through the windshield until she disappeared behind the closed door of the dance studio and then I sagged against the seat and closed my eyes.
The last time I saw her, she was so tiny, her face all red and scrunched up, but she’d still been the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on. She was born on October seventh at two in the morning and weighed six pounds, seven ounces. Now she was six and a half years old and was walking and talking, wishing on stars and dreaming big dreams. Did she want to be a dancer? Did she sing all the time? Was she anything like me?
My forehead dropped to the steering wheel. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
Fuck you, Dean.
He’d always been trouble, so I should have known better. But when you fall in love with the wrong boy at seventeen, you’re not always thinking clearly. After Maw Maw died, it was just Landry and me, and I’d clung to Dean like a lifeline. As if he could save me from sinking. Ha. What a joke.
“I’ll take care of you and the baby, Shy. I’ve got this.”
His idea of taking care of me had landed him in prison.
Why I’d ever believed a single word out of that liar’s mouth was a question I’d never been able to answer.
