Page 27 of Off the Beaten Path

I’m not so sure that’s true.

“June,getyourhandsoff that brownie.”

June freezes, her little fingers still resting on the plate of brownies on the counter. She’s got chocolate smeared on her face and a line of it streaking across her cheekbone and covering the smattering of freckles there.

“You already had a brownie,” I say again, spinning fully to face her, crossing my arms over my chest. I may be well over six feet and stocky enough to break down a door, but June can melt me in an instant if I let her get any traction.

Right now, she’s doing the puppy eyes, her bottom lip, also covered in chocolate, sticking out to form a pout. “Just one more,” she begs, drawing the word out in a plea.

I shake my head, narrowing my eyes. “No, you’ll make yourself sick.”

She drops her hand from the plate. “Fine,” she says before disappearing down the hall. The front door opens a minute later, and I hear Grey’s voice before June’s high-pitched giggle, her anger gone as quickly as it arrived.

Grey walks into the kitchen a moment later, boots thudding on the hardwood. “Honey, I’m home,” he singsongs, dropping a six-pack onto the counter. “Ooh, brownies.”

I’m starting to understand where this sweet tooth came from, because it definitely wasn’t from me. If I want to indulge in something, I spend a half hour crafting a cocktail and sip on it all evening.

By the time I turn around, Grey has already disappeared with the plate of brownies, and the NFL theme song starts playing through the speakers in the living room. I shake my head, putting the last of the leftover dinner in the fridge, and make my way into the living room.

Grey and June are sitting on the couch, the plate of brownies between them, Grey’s socked feet propped on my coffee table. June is dropping brownie crumbs all over the couch.

“June Elizabeth Blankenship,” I say, and June whirls around, a piece of brownie falling out of her mouth and landing in her lap. “I told you no more brownies.”

She points at Grey, eyes wide. “Uncle Grey told me I could have one.”

I turn my glare on my best friend, but to my annoyance, he doesn’t look fazed. “Chocolate is good for the soul, Holden.”

“Yeah, Holden, chocolate is good for the soul,” June mimics.

Grey looks at her, absolute delight lighting up his face.

I don’t even know where to begin with that conversation, so I start by taking the plate of brownies back to the kitchen before returning to the couch. June squeals as I pick her up, depositing her in my lap.

“No more brownies, understand?”

There’s laughter in her eyes, like she knows she has me in the palm of her hand as surely as the rest of the brownie, but she nods. “Sure thing, Daddy.”

And then she takes another bite.

“June,” I groan.

“I can’t finish this one?”

Snatching the brownie from her hand, I pop it into my mouth. It’s so sweet I can feel it in my teeth, and I cringe knowing she’s already had two of these. Her dentist is going to kill me.

“Nope,” I say around the bite. She glares at me, spinning around to face the TV, but I know she’s not really mad because instead of wiggling to get down, she nestles back into the crook of my arm, her head resting on my chest. She smells like watermelon shampoo and sugar, and it makes me want to hold her tightly. She may drive me absolutely crazy with how smart and sassy she is sometimes, but it doesn’t stop me from waking up in the middle of the night and panicking about how quickly she’s growing up, knowing one day she’s going to leave me all alone in this house.

Rolling my head around the back of the sofa to face Grey, I ask, “Put out any fires today?”

He doesn’t look away from the game on the TV. “Literally or figuratively?”

“Both, I guess,” I say with a shrug, and June huffs out a breath at being jostled. Her knotted blond curls end up splayed across my chest and chin with the movement, and I try in vain to smooth them down. It would be much easier if she would ever let me brush them out.

“No actual fires, although I did save a cat from a tree.”

I lift an eyebrow in question. “Seriously?”

He nods and takes a sip of his beer before responding. “One of Mrs. Heeter’s tabbies got up a tree, and she couldn’t get him down.”

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