One Look: A grumpy, single dad small town romance(14)

After a full tour of the fire station, if Penny hadn’t already been over the moon for her uncle, she sure as hell was now. They were two peas in a pod, and she smiled up at him as her head wobbled under the weight of a firefighter’s helmet.

She ran a hand across the red fire engine.

“Hop up there.” Lee gave her a boost, and Penny enthusiastically disappeared into the darkness of the truck.

“Just don’t touch anything,” I warned.

Her head popped back into the doorway and she frowned.

Lee laughed and lifted a hand. “Hit all the buttons you want. Just don’t mess with the tools. Especially the ax. I don’t want you getting blood on my clean truck.”

Penny giggled and disappeared again as Lee handed me a can of Coke.

“It’s good to have you back, man.”

I shook my head and lifted my brows. “I’m not back.”

A smirk tugged at Lee’s lips, but he let it go. “At least you’re in the same state. It’s a start. But you know as well as I do that an hour commute is nothing, really.”

“Says the guy who sleeps at work and then has two days off.” Busting Lee’s balls about his life at the fire station was easier than letting the doubts of my recent decisions creep in. I needed to focus on my job. I couldn’t lose sight of that if I wanted any kind of stability for Penny.

“You can’t do it all. Look at Dad. After Mom died, he tried to be everything to everyone, and you know where that got him.” Lee’s usually upbeat attitude waned. We both knew Dad’s illness was shitty luck, but knowing that didn’t sting any less. “Maybe you need some help.”

“I don’t need help.” I also didn’t need my little brother riding my ass and telling me things I already knew. He didn’t need to worry about me either. I downed my drink and stood.

I had no desire to talk about work anymore. For some reason I wanted to tell him about my interaction with Lark. Maybe tell him to back off a little if he also had a thing for her. Fighting over women had never been an issue before, but after he’d eagerly offered to show her around the fire station, I felt a strange need to stake my claim.

“So, uh. That Lark woman is still in town.”

Lee’s eyebrows crept up as he sipped his own drink. “That so?”

“Yeah, I, uh, ran into her on my run yesterday. Down at Wabash Lake.”

“You get her to flash you before jumping off the rocks like Mindy McAllister in high school?”

I laughed and shoved his shoulder. I listened for Penny, but she was still occupied in the truck.

“No, but I did see something else.” A sly grin spread across my face. “She was skinny-dipping and I got an eyeful.”

“You saw her ass?” Penny’s head popped between us, and Coke nearly flew out of Lee’s nose as he choked out a laugh.

I turned to her, schooling my features and willing the laugh to stay buried in my chest. “Don’t say ass. It’s impolite.”

“But you say it.” She crossed her little arms over her chest. “And you saw, like, the whole thing.”

“It was an accident.” Sort of. “We don’t need to talk about it. And why can’t you call it, like, a heinie or something cute?”

Penny shrugged. “Butts are funny.” She looked at Lee, and they both erupted into a fresh fit of laughter.

I shook my head and turned to face her, setting my can on the edge of the truck. I pulled Penny forward at the waist and hiked her over my shoulder to move her away from the doorway. She squealed with delight and kicked her legs out behind me.

“Say bye to Uncle Lee. We’ve got to get on the road.” I’d have to find another way to figure out if Lee had a thing for Lark and decide whether or not I should do something about that.

Penny went limp on my shoulder. “Bye, Uncle Lee.” Her little voice was morose and dramatic.

“See ya later, Rat.” Lee tickled her sides, and she wiggled and laughed.

“It’s PICKLE!” she giggle-shouted.

I smiled and mouthed, Thank you, to my little brother. He was a good kid and an even better uncle. That gnawing ache came back with a vengeance. That same one that said maybe I was making a mistake by taking Penny away from Outtatowner and my family so soon.





7





LARK





For the second time in three days, I was spying on Wyatt Sullivan. This time, instead of it happening behind some rocks while we were both butt naked, it was from the comfort of my own rented kitchen. And he was fully clothed, unfortunately.

I cracked open the gauzy, white kitchen curtains and looked out over the large lawn toward the old house. Wyatt stared up at the empty house with his arms crossed and his signature scowl across his face.

What is he doing? Why is he here?

As if he could sense me staring, his head swiveled in my direction. I stifled a yelp and ducked down below the countertop. I didn’t understand that man. I’d googled him, of course. Every picture of him was either on the field looking like a god or grinning at the camera, and holy shit, did I wish I had watched more football.

Where the hell was that guy, and why do I get Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud instead?

The Wyatt I met was grumpy and short tempered. Maybe it was because he wasn’t in the NFL anymore, though, based on the articles I had scoured well past midnight, it seemed like he left while he was still at the top of his game.