Page 3 of Daddy Crush (Silver Fox Daddy)

“You shitting me?” he asked, finally looking up.

I knew what he was thinking. Where the hell did you get the money to buy it? Not surprising, since the last he’d seen of me was at our pop’s funeral, and I was so drunk I could barely stay upright while serving as his pall bearer.

Doc had every right to punch me in the face first, then ask questions later. Instead, the anger in his eyes had dulled with surprise, and I could swear the hint of a grin crossed his face, a mere flicker before it vanished. Almost like old times.

He paused and looked down at the toes of his boots before drawing a deep breath.

“All right, Duke,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides and shifted his weight back on the balls of his feet. “So, what do you need?”

Easy does it, I reminded myself.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure.

“Not a thing,” I said. “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me—hell, I wouldn’t if the shoes were on the other foot. I don’t expect it to change your opinion of me, but I’ve been sober three years now, and I know I have a lot of making up to do.”

And I was here for it.

Strong enough after rehab, and more meetings than I could count, to handle the disappointment, which still lingered when he looked at me. I was supposed to be the big brother, not the other way around. The one who looked out for him. And I’d failed miserably.

I focused on the bus stop again. A homeless woman gathered her sleeping bag around her shoulders for warmth. This was no place for a single female. What was Troy thinking, sending her on a bus alone?

Clover was young enough to be my daughter.

Last time I’d seen her, she was a sweet little thing, quieter than her sister. Always curled up somewhere with a book in her free time. And she was a good girl, too. From what I heard, she helped her parents on the farm even long after most kids moved to the city and found employment where the scent of goat manure wasn’t an on-the-job requirement.

The work I had for her might not be any more glamorous than what she’d left behind, but at least she wouldn’t have to wear rubber boots to perform it.

When her father video called me and said she needed to get out of town, I had to ask, “Is she pregnant?”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. “No, Duke. Not that kind of trouble. She just needs a fresh start.”

But trouble, nonetheless.

My friend went on to explain how a powerful rancher in the area set his sights on his daughter, then turned his local following against her after she’d gone public with his attempted assault. The rancher didn’t welcome the creativity behind herWantedposters. They featured his face and his alleged crimes of harassment, along with a description that included the distinguishing marks on his “electrocuted ding-dong”. Her family’s farm began to suffer from payback. Strangers left piles of garbage in their front yard, mysterious holes appeared in the wire fencing so the goats got out, and Clover was bullied every time she went to town by people who didn’t appreciate her artistic attempt at justice.

I nodded listening to Troy’s story, feeling a stab of guilt for asking what kind of trouble his daughter was in. My manners left a lot to be desired, even though I had no excuse. Mama raised me right, and the military drilled them into me even further. I just ignored decorum most of the time.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked.

“Somewhere safe,” he told me, his face drawn tight in worried lines.

I clenched my teeth. He didn’t need to spell it out for me.

“How can I help?” I asked.

He sighed, resigned. “I need you to give her a place to stay for a while.”

I nodded. “I can do that.”

He gave me a tired smile. I didn’t know what it was like to be a father, but he appeared grateful beyond words.

Clover would be here soon, and I’d be ready. Ready to make sure she stayed protected from danger, and to help her through whatever it was she ran from.

Demons came in many shapes and sizes, as common as cockroaches, and all required one thing. Running away and getting lost.

Finally, the Greyhound bus pulled up. I watched for Clover but didn’t see her. No shy, young girl in glasses who could only look a grownup in the eye with effort got off the bus.

Skinny.

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