“It’s not nice,” I told her. Fucking Hailee. A twelve-year-old mean girl. Was this what Katy had to look forward to for the rest of middle school? “We’re done listening to Hailee.”
“But—”
“Done, Katy.” I shook my head. “Your hair is beautiful. It’s dark blond. And Samantha is a nice and lovely girl, okay?”
She sighed. “Okay.”
“Hey.” I tugged on her ear.
“What?”
“Who loves you the most?”
“You,” she whispered.
“Trust me?”
Katy nodded.
“Today, spend less time with Hailee. See how you feel at the end of the day.” I had a hunch she’d be in a happy mood when I came to pick her up this afternoon. And my girl was smart. She’d put it together. “Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you.”
She glanced over, giving me a tiny smile. “Can you do something for me?”
“Depends. What is it?”
“Guess.”
“Hmm.” I turned down the road that would lead us to the school. “Ice cream for dinner?”
“Nope.”
“Good. It’s too cold for that.” We’d had snow on the ground in Bozeman for months and it showed no signs of melting anytime soon. This was the coldest winter in Montana I could remember.
The indigo mountains in the distance stood proud and beautiful, their caps dusted in white. The local skiers were overjoyed that we’d been getting daily fresh powder. But I was ready for some sunshine and green grass.
“Next guess?” Katy asked.
“The dog.”
Katy had been begging for a puppy for months, ever since Hailee—the new bane of my existence—had gotten a golden retriever for Christmas.
It wasn’t that I was entirely opposed to the idea of a dog, but spring and summer were my busiest times of year. My life was about to go from hectic to chaotic. I didn’t need a puppy keeping me up all night. I didn’t need another ball to juggle when I already had ten in the air.
“Just think about it.” She clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Pretty please?”
“I’ll think about it.”
That seemed to be enough to pacify Katy. She relaxed in her seat, eyes aimed on the road as we drove to school.
I managed to make up a couple minutes, but that was where my luck stopped. A block from school, we hit the drop-off line, twice as long as normal. “Shit.”
“Don’t cuss,” Katy scolded.
“Shoot.”
She rolled her eyes. “With all the money you put in the cuss jar, I can just buy my own puppy.”
Hell, she could buy two puppies.
“We’re going to be late, huh?” she asked.
“We’re cutting it close today.”
But the line moved quicker than I’d expected, and as the SUV ahead of us pulled away from the curb, I stopped and leaned across the cab to kiss Katy’s cheek. “Have a good day. See you after school.”
“Bye, Daddy.” She hopped out, slinging her backpack over her shoulders, then waved before racing off to join a group of girls standing beside the flagpole.
Hailee was in the mix. I shot her a glare, then headed across town for work.
Alcott Landscaping was located on the outskirts of Bozeman, past the expensive neighborhoods where the homes were four or five times larger than my simple three-bedroom cottage. Turning off the paved highway, I rolled down the gravel lane toward headquarters.
My boss, Hans Barton, had owned Alcott for the past ten years. When he’d decided to relocate our shop and headquarters to this acreage for more equipment and supply storage space, he’d asked me to make this property a showcase.
Bordered by a wooden, split-rail fence, the driveway veered past open fields currently buried beneath snow. But in the spring, they’d be a lush green and teeming with wildflowers.
The office building was simple with brown and gray barnwood siding. Its plethora of windows offered clients and staff a view of the surrounding gardens and pathways. The showcase. From fountains to native grasses to flower beds packed with colorful blooms in the spring and summer, it had taken me years to finish.
When I’d been hired on at Alcott Landscaping all those years ago, I hadn’t planned on it becoming my career. All I’d cared about was a decent paycheck to fund my court battle with Rosalie.
The owner at the time had been Finn Alcott. He’d hired me for hard labor, and damn, I had worked hard. This job had become my escape. Any chance to make an extra dollar, I’d raised my hand.
Still, even working my ass off, it had been almost impossible to keep up on bills plus pay my smarmy lawyer. But Finn hadn’t just been my boss. He’d tossed me a life raft when I’d been drowning. When he’d learned of my custody battle with Rosalie, he’d given me the name of his own attorney, a man who’d agreed to represent me pro bono.
Thanks to them both, I hadn’t lost my daughter.
Not long after my divorce, Finn had sold Alcott Landscaping to Hans. And while I hadn’t seen Finn in years, he’d always have a special place in my heart. The same was true for Hans.
In the past ten years, I’d come to admire and respect Hans. He’d once had a landscaping company in California but had sold it to retire in Montana. Anyone who knew Hans knew why his retirement hadn’t lasted. The man couldn’t sit still. So he’d approached Finn and bought Alcott.
Hans had kept the company name—smart, because of its reputation. And he’d retained the employees who’d wanted to stay, including me.
When I’d outgrown laying sod and plowing snow, the foreman had given me other jobs, like irrigation and operating the larger equipment. After two seasons, I’d decided it was time to get some education.
The weeks when Katy had been with Rosalie, I’d filled my time with studying. And after a few years, I’d earned my degree in environmental horticulture with a landscape design emphasis from Montana State.
From lawn mower to Alcott’s head designer and general manager, I rolled into the office some days and still couldn’t believe the titles on my business card.
The parking lot was half full this morning, mostly office staff. The outdoor crew was light at the moment and would be until spring. There were a couple of trucks outside the massive steel shop building this morning, each fitted with a plow blade on front. We’d beefed up the winter employees in the past few years to offer snow removal to more clients around town, but still, it was quiet.
That quiet would be short-lived. In two months, once the May projects started, the yard would be chaos from sunrise to sunset.
Parking in my usual space, I headed inside. The scent of donuts and coffee greeted me as I pushed through the door.
“Morning,” I called.
Korbyn, my assistant, poked his head out of the break room, his cheeks bulging and his hand clasped around a maple bar.
“Save one for me,” I said.
He grinned, still chewing, and saluted me with the donut as I headed down the hallway for my office.
At six three, Korbyn and I were the same height, but I had at least fifty pounds of muscle to fill out my frame. Hans called him String Bean—not to Korbyn’s face. Hans didn’t spend much time in the office these days and had struggled to remember the newer employees. That, and he was horrible with names—it had taken him nearly three years to call me Jeff instead of Big Guy. Rather than try to remember the constantly changing faces, he mostly avoided the crews these days.