Page 43 of Nightingale

“Any chance you guys have gremlins or trolls that move them around?” he asked.

“Yep, one four-foot one, only it has yet to be determined if it’s an elf, gremlin or a troll,” Amber said giving Callum a boop to his nose.

When everyone was by the door, he stood and came up behind them. “You ready?”

“Yep. I think we got everything. I never seem to be able to get these kids out the door and to their stuff on time. Today I think we’ll be okay.” Amber laughed, lighting up her whole face.

Mountain had fallen in love with the sound or maybe it was the beauty emanating from her cheeks. The bright red of lips were made for kissing and he wanted to kiss them. Taste them again and this time, go for more, but knew it wasn’t an appropriate time so he opened the door.

The kids bounded to the van and while Amber helped secure them in their seats.

He opened the driver’s door. “Give me the keys, I’ll drive.”

Amber startled, her eyes scanning down his body as if downloading his driving record before handed over the keys and getting in the passenger side of the vehicle.

“If I’m going to get into a cage. I’m driving, passenger seat just ain’t for a man like me.”

“A cage?” Amber frowned.

“That’s what we call a vehicle that isn’t a bike.” Mountain slid off his leather coat and laid it on the center console before moving the seat back as far as he could.

“Ahhhh,” Maisie screamed from the backseat. “My legs, you’re crushing my legs.”

“Stop it Maisie,” Amber warned. “No he’s not.”

Mountain glanced in the back to see a good six inches before he’d make contact with her knees.

“He was going to,” she said crossing her arms. “Dad doesn’t move the seat back that far.”

“Your dad is shorter than Mountain.”

Mountain crawled into the van and fastened his seatbelt. Glad he wasn’t on the passenger side where the glove box would destroy his knees. Starting the van, he backed out of the driveway, following the direction Amber pointed to.

“Who calls someone Mountain anyway?” Maisie asked.

“Don’t you have a friend named Brooke?”

“Yeah, but that’s a normal name, they didn’t call her Stream,” Maisie replied.

Amber pulled in on her lips.

“It’s a nickname,” Mountain replied, though his given name might not be any better. The cutting glares coming at him in the rearview told of a very aware girl. One who wasn’t in the mood for her mother’s friends.

After they drove the few miles toward the park, he pulled in parked the vehicle by a spot near the field. They all got out, Maisie grabbing her soccer bag and taking off toward the field while Amber walked to the back of the van. “I have chairs here.”

“Can I go play at the playground?” Callum asked.

“Sure. But stay where I can see you.” Amber grabbed a chair.

Glancing at the camping chair, he waved his hand. “I’m good, but I’ll carry yours for you,” he offered and Amber passed him the collapsed chair and headed toward the sidelines. He set up her seat, then copped a squat next to her. They were still near eye level, her chair sinking into ground below.

“This is going to be fun,” he said.

She eyed him then nodded in understanding. “Glad you came. Maisie is pretty good. She tries hard for sure.” Amber let out a sigh, clasping her hands together, the nerves obvious. “It’s stupid really, an eight U game and I’m here in a near panic as if Team USA scouts were hovering in the bushes.”

“She’s your kid,” he said. “I know my mom dropped a few vallum at a game. Then again, she tended to find reasons to take them. You know, it’s a Tuesday, the Red Sox lost, the mail was thirty minutes late, they ran out of fruit tarts at the bakery.”

“Lord knows I needed to snort a line of Xanax every time I forget to add a fabric sheet to my laundry,” Amber joked.

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