The Bully (Calamity Montana #4)(36)

Dad pampered Mom. And he pampered me. It was how he showed his love.

I’d told him no less than ten times since I’d picked them up from the Bozeman airport this morning that he wasn’t allowed to work on this vacation. No hanging shelves. No fussing with the doors that squeaked in this old house. And absolutely no yard work.

He’d agreed. He’d promised to relax and soak up our long weekend together.

Then I’d made the mistake of going to pee twenty minutes ago. Before I’d flushed the toilet, he’d snuck out to the garage. The buzz of the lawnmower had greeted me when I’d emerged from the bathroom.

“I missed you guys,” I said, leaving the window to sit on the couch.

“We missed you too.” Mom joined me, glancing around the room. “I love, love, love your house.”

“Isn’t it cute?”

“The cutest. It suits you. Much more than that apartment in Denver.”

I felt the same, but hearing Mom confirm it reinforced that this move to Calamity had been the right decision.

“Once he’s done outside, maybe we could walk downtown,” she said. “I want to explore.”

“Sure.” We could spend a few hours strolling up and down First. The only risk was Cal.

I hadn’t seen him since yoga at The Refinery last Saturday. Six days and I wished I could say he hadn’t been on my mind. Maybe I should have called him and asked him to avoid downtown this weekend. But knowing Cal, that would have just enticed him.

With any luck, he’d stay locked in his camper to miss the tourists who’d been flocking to town in droves each weekend on their way to tour Yellowstone National Park.

My parents and I would be joining them on their next visit. We’d hoped to squeeze in a visit to see Old Faithful this trip, but both Mom and Dad had to work on Monday. So this visit was just to say hello and see my new house. This fall, when they could get away again, we’d get out of town.

“You look beautiful, honey.” Mom stretched an arm across the couch, tugging a lock of my hair. “My pretty girl.”

“Thanks. You look good too. I’m jealous of your tan.”

“You’ll have to visit us this winter and get some sun.”

“I will.” I smiled and she smiled. If anyone would have been here to take a photograph, our smiles would have been the same.

Dad used to tease that I was a mini Kylie. Mom’s blond hair was a shade darker only because she didn’t have it colored as often. We had the same green eyes. The same chin. The same shape of our noses, though she had a few more freckles on hers.

She’d only been seventeen when she’d had me. My biological father was a boy she’d been with in high school. I knew his name. I had an old picture she’d saved from a yearbook. But otherwise, he’d never been a part of my life. Neither had Mom’s parents.

They’d shunned her after she’d announced her pregnancy. They’d kicked her out of the house, but thankfully, she’d had a sympathetic aunt who’d taken her in. We’d lived in her aunt’s basement until I was two.

That’s when Mom married Dad.

She always said the day she met Dad was kismet. A waitress at the diner where she’d worked had asked her to swap shifts, so she’d had a random Friday afternoon off. Mom had taken me to a nearby community park to play on the swing set. It had been Dad’s last day working for the landscaping company that had maintained the park. A day later, and it would have been someone else cutting the grass.

Dad proclaimed it was love at first sight.

He adopted me after their wedding. We moved into his house, visiting Mom’s aunt until she passed away when I was eight. Mom quit the diner and started working at the coffee shop. And we’d had a happy life, just the three of us.

Dad was my dad, even if we didn’t share DNA. We looked nothing alike. He had black hair and coffee-colored eyes. His bushy mustache had a few flecks of gray. His frame was short and stocky.

But in so many ways, we were exactly alike. Mom used to tease us that we were born kindred spirits. We could finish each other’s sentences. We usually craved the same foods. And though I loved Mom entirely, whenever I needed life advice, Dad was my first phone call.

When I’d decided to move to Calamity, I’d told him first.

The sound of the mower stopped and both Mom and I shot off the couch, heading out the front door.

Dad wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “This yard needs help.”

I laughed. “I know.”

“It needs to be aerated. It wouldn’t hurt to throw down some fresh seed to fill these patchy spots. Maybe we could swing by that hardware store.”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “This is your vacation, Dad. Mowing is all you get to do. I can handle the rest. You taught me how to grow a nice lawn, remember?”

He chuckled and held up his hands. “Okay, fine.”

“Are you good to do some exploring?” Mom asked, then checked her watch. “We’ve got some time before we can check into the motel.”

“You could cancel your reservation and stay here.” The guest bedroom was all ready for company.

“Next time.” Dad shook his head. “This is our vacation too.”

And I wouldn’t begrudge them a little privacy.

The day I’d announced my move date this past winter, they’d made their reservation at the motel. Luckily, they’d called before the motel had been fully booked for the summer.