Ask Me Why(79)

“I’m not agreeing to that.” As fucking if.

Ollie and Jordan slap palms. “Majority wins.”

It’s no surprise the queen of hearts lands face up on the table. Go fucking figure. Jordan and Ollie cheer as if the Blues won the World Series. That vacation Don suggested isn’t sounding too bad right about now. A secluded island by myself would really hit the spot. Most importantly, I’d be separated from these pestering Braelyn fans.

Ollie folds his little hands together. “Daddy, please?”

I’m a sucker for that plea. It’s a problem I’m very aware of. “Don’t I get a vote in any of this?”

“Nope.” The response comes from both of them, in unison. I’m beginning to think this was rehearsed.

I pinch my eyes shut. “Fine. I’ll think about it. Happy?”

Their matching grins tell me everything I need to know. I never stood a chance. But in the end, maybe I never wanted one.





Braelyn



Tasks



I pick up one my favorite mugs and cradle it. The cheery rainbow paint resonates deeper than usual today. Especially with my pint-size helper zipping in and out of aisles. Ollie arrived an hour ago and shows no signs of leaving. The distracting presence of his father doesn’t appear to be either. He’s a damn beacon on my stoop. Women will be flocking in hoards any minute. I have my broom ready just in case.

It’s been over a week since I laid eyes on his handsome mug. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to missing him. My legs just about gave out when he appeared on the sidewalk. But he didn’t cross the threshold. For some reason that makes me more upset than anything. Why can’t he come in and face me?

Damn coward, I think. But I’m mostly talking to myself.

This has been a trial of resistance. I haven’t helped our lack of a friendly situation. A text wouldn’t have been out of the question. It could have been related to Ollie. Some form of communication to maintain our ties. Maybe a rainbow hologram in the sky. Am I reaching? Absolutely.

I sigh and rest my elbow on the counter. Brance Stone has officially ruined me. Staring at him now confirms it. I won’t be getting over his type of sexiness anytime this century. He’s a forever-stamp of seductive ruin. I might as well contact the convents now.

“Miss Braelyn?”

I turn toward the soothing voice. “Yeah, sweetie?”

Ollie holds up a pair of patterned socks. “Where do these go?”

“Aisle four.” I raise my hand and point to the left side.

He counts each row with a bounce of his finger. When he finds the right one, his little feet take off in a blur. Those flashing sneakers squeak across the floor. Ollie’s zest is infectious. I can’t stop the laugh from bubbling out.

I continue stacking the latest order of greeting cards. A smiling bear offers encouragement. Fireworks for the upcoming holiday. Some jokes about getting older. There’s a steamy quote meant for a lover. The final one draws me in more than the others. I’ve never received one of this caliber. Not that I want to. What would I do with a sexy promise of midnight action? Nothing as of late.

My gaze naturally trails to Brance. He’s still perched on the brick wall, one booted foot resting against the coarse surface. Those damn aviators hide his emotions. I bet he’s brooding. His posture screams laidback, but I sense tension in his subtle shifts.

At that exact moment, Brance turns to look through the window. My lungs seize, and I fight the urge to hide. What’re the chances he can really see me staring that clearly? Pretty damn good considering I keep that barely-tinted glass squeaky clean. Should I wave? Offer a come-hither smile?

Maybe I should get some stocking done in a far off corner where this won’t be an issue.

As if hearing my plans to flee, Ollie dashes around the counter and screeches to a stop in front of me. His blue stare squeezes my heart. “Miss Braelyn?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“Why haven’t you been around as much?”

“What do you mean? I’m always here.” I made a promise that things wouldn’t change for Ollie. I intend to keep it.

“No, not really. Miss Kallie has been working more. Why?”

I’d been calling on Kallie more often this week, but the hours off hadn’t been beneficial. Quite the opposite. After several days of carrying an inconsistent schedule, I’m trying to get back on track. Having Brance randomly swoop in isn’t making that easier. Mary is far more understanding.

“Well, I need a little space for myself. Do you ever get that way?”

A dent forms between his brows. “Uh, like a timeout?”

I laugh. “Kinda. But I’m choosing to go.”

His jaw drops. “Why would you wanna be on timeout? They’re not fun. Were you super-naughty?”

“It’s different for adults. I’m sure your dad can explain.” That last bit slips out before I can trap it. I’m not trying to dig myself a deeper ditch.

“He can?” Ollie’s gaze swings to his father outside. “Is he on a timeout now?”

I take a moment to consider that. Brance has his head resting against the window. He’s not talking to anyone. The answer seems simple. “Yeah, I think so. Do you wanna ask him?”

A tiny bubble of glee forms in my belly thinking about Ollie confronting his father. Turns out self-preservation isn’t high on my priority list. Poking an agitated Brance could provide some much needed relief.