She scowls at me the rest of the drive to her school and refuses to get out of the truck.
I drop my eyes to my busted-up knuckles as I grip the wheel, trying not to lose my cool. Turning to face her, I blink slowly, waiting for her to unbuckle.
Sev kicks the back of my seat. “I’m hungry.”
Sev is an endless pit when it comes to eating. She’s tiny as all get out but eats constantly. I grab her foot. “Stop kicking the seat.” I look to Camdyn. “You got a problem, little girl?”
“I do.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s you. I’m not little. I’m five.”
“You’re still little, girl.” I raise an eyebrow, my jaw working back and forth. Sighing, I adjusted my hat and shake my head. “I told you not to put that damn bear out the window. How is it my fault?”
“You didn’t turn back.” Tears well up in her eyes, and I have to look away. “I won’t be happy until you get it back,” she adds, arms crossed over her chest. This kid, she’s the grudge holder. I think I explained that, but she’s going to be pissed at me all day, no matter what I do.
“No. I’m not going back.” I motion toward the door, trying to get Sev to stop kicking me in the process. “Sevyn Rae Grady, you better knock that shit off.”
Her eyes widen. I used her full name, and she knows I mean business. At least she stops kicking me.
“Now, get out of the truck, Camdyn. You’re late.” I reach for the door handle, a blast of frigid air smacking me in the face the instant it’s open. My eyes water, a chill working through me. Around the front, I make my way over to the side of the truck where Camdyn is on. Yanking it open, she’s there, still pouting.
I laugh. She’s too cute when she does this. Hell, even Sev is looking at her like she needs to get over it.
“Stop laughing at me,” Camdyn snaps, finally unbuckling herself and reaching for her coat and backpack. “I’m angry.”
Twisting the handle on the door, I roll up her window. “I can see that.” I pick her up and help her out of the truck.
Squirming, she wiggles her way out of my arms and stomps toward her preschool. Standing at the front of the truck, I wave to Edie, her teacher, who meets her at the door. It’s a house, not technically a school, but out in the country, it’s what we have.
With her coat slung over her shoulder and her backpack dragging behind her, Camdyn doesn’t look back at me, won’t say goodbye, and if she could flip me off, I bet she would.
“Sissy so mad at you, Daddy,” Sev notes when I start the truck up again.
Blowing into my hands, I rub them together. “She’s always mad at me.” Camdyn, she’s a lot like Tara. Nothing I do makes her happy. I fear that kid becoming a teenager.
Sev kicks my seat again. “I’m hungry.” She has no patience. I have no idea where she gets that from.
“You keep kicking my seat and you’re going to be more than hungry,” I warn. I’ve yet to spank the girls, but it’s threatened daily.
After we drop Camdyn off, I head to the shop but stop by the bar to get coffee. My aunt Tenille, or Tilly as we call her, owns a bar near the ranch. Another family-owned place that she took over when my grandparents passed away.
It’s not open yet, but she serves coffee to the locals in the mornings, and she quite possibly has the best espresso in town.
Sev comes in with me. It’s nothing new to be in this bar with them, and where I go, Sev isn’t far behind. She’s been my shadow since she was born, and I doubt that’s changing anytime soon. She claims she’s not going to school. “Got food, girlfren?” Sev climbs up on the barstool and smacks her hands on the wood. “I’m hungry.”
Tilly smiles at her and slides a donut toward her. “I do for you, girlfren.”
Sev’s eyes light up. “Yes!”
While Sev devours a donut and wears most of it, Tilly sweeps her black hair from her chocolate eyes. She takes a cup in her hand, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Did you hear—”
Here we go. Small-town shit. “I don’t care.” Holding up my hand, I stop my aunt Tilly before she continues. “Whatever it is, I don’t fucking care.” I wave my hand to the espresso machine. “Just give me coffee.”
Her eyes flick to mine, amused. She’s used to me being in a bad mood. “What’s up your ass today?”
The sound of laughter leaps from Sev’s lungs as she plays with Tilly’s dog on the floor.
I look down at her and then back to Tilly. “A stuffed lamb named Looper spent some time there last night. But lack of sleep,” I mumble, leaning against the bar with my elbows rested on the lip. The smell of fresh ground coffee beans invades my senses as I run my hand over my face. “I got three hours and slept in a bunk bed with Marilyn Manson staring me down.”
Sev pays no mind to me, nor does she care how much sleep I got.
Tilly smiles, pouring hot water into my Americano. “Did Sev have a bad night?”
I don’t even have to tell her which kid; she knows which one has a poster of that dude. “I just told you I slept in a toddler bed. With Marilyn Manson. Sevyn’s fine.” Adjusting my hat, I point to my chest. “I’m not.”
She laughs it off and slides my coffee toward me. “You might want to check on Morgan this morning.”
I take the cup, warmth hitting my palms. “Why? It’s late. He’s probably in the field by now.” Morgan, my older brother, he’s a lifetime cowboy. He’s been working on the ranch since he was old enough to walk. Left for college, returned, and is still working the ranch. Us Grady boys, we can’t seem to make it out of Amarillo for long.
Desperate for the one who set my heart on fire, I left for a couple weeks back when Sev was only a couple months old. Between off-the-rails crazy and rock bottom, I went to California to beg a girl to come home and turned around at the border, knowing my priorities didn’t lie with her any longer. Too much her, too little us. She made her decision, and I never looked back again. Okay, I still look back and stalk her Instagram page, but whatever. You get my point. Us Grady boys belong on the ranch.
“Trust me.” Tilly leans into the bar when I step back, a napkin in her hand that she hands to my chocolate-cheeked toddler at my feet. “Check on him.”
I groan, sighing. “Cut the bullshit. I remind you, toddler bed, three hours. Marilyn Manson.”
“He left the bar with Lil last night, and it didn’t look like they went their separate ways.”
Shit.
Morgan, he’s… a dick-in-your-face kind of blunt, stands up for what he believes in, a damn good brother, but he has a weakness. Lillian Taylor. She’s a mean-as-fuck country girl, a farmer’s daughter, his high school sweetheart, and not his wife.
“And…” Tilly continues when I grab Sev off the ground.
“Ugh.” I groan, looking over at her, the dog jumping up and planting his paws on my waist. In the process, his fucking claws scrape my junk. “Stay down,” I growl at the dog and step back, fighting through my urge to punch a dog in the face for being an asshole. I level Tilly her own glare. “I don’t care.”
“Alexus was asking about you again.”