For Fox Sake

Chapter 1

Ryan

“But why?”

Twenty-seven. That’s twenty-seven times Ari has asked me why? since this morning.

It started as soon as she opened her eyes.

Why can’t I go with you to work?

Why do we have cereal for breakfast? Why can’t I have pizza?

Why do I have two eyes if I can only see one thing?

“Because you’ve worn your superhero cape for three days straight. It’s covered in dirt and old food and every germ known to humankind. We’re going into a place where they sell food, which means we have to be clean so dirt doesn’t get on all the stuff people are gonna eat.” The parking lot is clear of traffic as I grip Ari’s hand tighter and cross to the store entrance.

She’s silent for two whole seconds before saying, “But the rest of me isn’t clean either.”

Sighing, I release her sticky hand to grab a cart. She’s not wrong. This round goes to the five-year-old for an unerring sense of logic that exists only when it’s the least useful for me.

Her ruffled pink skirt is speckled with red and yellow paint. Pale blue streaks haphazardly across her white shirt. The perfectly styled braids I wove into her hair this morning have worked free, and blond curls riot around her face. Her mouth is surrounded by some of the same pale blue substance from her shirt, tinted with grayish grime. That’s what happens when you feed a child ice pops before they play outside in the dirt.

“Just don’t touch anything.”

“But—”

My purse vibrates. “Hold on.”

Saved by the bell, or some disaster, more likely. But whatever. It’s an opportunity to distract us both from this no-win conversation.

I lift my phone out of my purse with one hand, pushing the cart forward with the other. We stop just inside the door, moving to the side to let a couple behind us pass.

The caller ID flashes. It’s Priscilla. Crap.

I swipe my thumb across the screen. “Hey. Everything all right?”

“Where are you?” Pricilla asks.

“BountiDull Foods.” When you live in a town named Dull, the puns are both frequent and terrible. “What’s going on?”

“Uh, so, one of the last renters left a little something behind.”

“What is it?”

“Crabs.”

Ari stares up at me and frowns at my expression. “Momma?”

My brain stalls out for a second. Crabs? “Crabs? Live crabs?”

“You wouldn’t freaking believe it. I opened the fridge and there they were, free-roaming like they owned the place.”

Dull is only an hour from a prime crab-catching area along the Tillamook. We get a lot of renters here for that kind of thing, but no one has ever left their live catch behind before.

“Are you fu—uh, kidding me?”

Thankfully Ari’s not paying attention. She’s waving at someone deeper into the store, toward the apple bins.

I twist around to look.

Priscilla’s gusty sigh echoes across the line. “I need some help getting them out. You know how I feel about spiders.”

“Crabs aren’t spiders.” I move the phone away from my mouth and whisper to Ari, “Who are you waving at?”

“They’re sea spiders,” Priscilla’s voice continues in my ear. “All those legs twitching about gives me the creeps. And they’re larger and scarier.”

Ari’s eyes brighten. “Can I see the crabs?”

“No.”

“What?” Priscilla asks.

“Not you. I’m with Ari. Which unit are you cleaning?” Please don’t be 2E.

“2E.”

I groan and lift a hand to my head. That’s the one right across the street from our home. “It’s booked for three weeks and check-in starts in,” I inspect my watch, “ten minutes.” Which doesn’t mean they will show up right then, but you never know.

“What do you want me to do?”

Ari tugs on my arm. “I want to see the crabs.”

I shake my head and blow out a breath. What is with today?

My period started this morning, I’ve been putting out one fire after another at the rentals, and I had the worst lunch date in the history of the known universe.

“Give me ten minutes. Take care of whatever else needs to be done until then.” I hang up, narrowing my eyes at Ari. “I’ll let you look at the crabs if you let me wash your cape.”

Her head cocks to one side, lips pursing, like we’re bargaining for her soul instead of the state of her personal hygiene. “Okay.”

“Did you want some strawberries?”

“No. Bananas.”

I guide the cart in that direction. “Who were you waving at earlier?”

“Uncle Shane.”

Fucking hell.

I immediately hunch, my eyes darting around us, like there’s a sniper hiding behind the pineapples instead of my ex-boyfriend.

It’s not like I never see him. We run into each other at least once a week.

I hate small towns.

Maybe it’s just this small town. Too many memories.

“Hey, Ryan.”

I spin around.

Shane’s dark hair is slicked back, one hand stuffed into his jeans pocket, the other holding his girlfriend’s hand.

She flicks her blond hair and smirks at me. Samantha. I barely know her, but what I do know is she’s one of those people who wields backhanded compliments like a weapon.

“Hey, Shane. Hey, Sam.”

Her mouth twists. “It’s Samantha.”

“Right, sorry. How are you?”

“We’re doing great, actually.” Samantha rests her left hand on her lower stomach to show off the flashing diamond engagement ring, her smile widening. “We’re expecting.”

My mouth pops open and I snap it shut. “Wow. That’s, that’s great. Congratulations.”

Samantha’s smirk is smug. She didn’t miss my initial reaction, and she probably thinks I’m jealous.

This doesn’t hurt in the way she thinks it does. I’m way over Shane. Even though we were together for years, we’ve been over longer than we were together.

He’s grinning down at her, and it’s just... so weird.

Samantha yaps on and on, about how they are trying to maintain a healthier diet now that she’s eating for two, how they have a doctor’s appointment next week, how they’re already picking out baby names and she likes Darcy for a girl and Toby for a boy.

I nod and tune out.

Shane puts an arm around her shoulders and gazes down at her like she’s the most interesting person alive.

He used to look at me the same way. In public, anyway. Shane puts on this act like he’s this fun-loving, great guy, attentive and sensitive. Every time we see him, he insists Ari call him “uncle” since he “was there when she was born.” While he may have been physically present, he was a complete asshat. He refused to help me with any of Ari’s care, even though we were living together, my only sister had just died, and I was drowning in grief.

Honestly, they’re perfect for each other.

“I’m really happy for both of you. It was so nice to chat. We have to run though. We’re kind of in a hurry.”

“We have crabs,” Ari pipes up.

I laugh awkwardly and shrug as we’re walking away. “Kids say the funniest things.”

Five minutes later, we’ve finished a frenzied race through the store for the basics to last the next few days and then we get in line. We’re behind three people with full carts. Two more quickly fall into place behind us.

Only one register open on a Friday night. Of course.

After interminable minutes standing in line while I try to distract and entertain Ari, it’s finally our turn.

“That will be twenty-three forty-five,” the cashier says, after scanning the last item in our basket.

I reach into my purse and dig around, my fingers encountering my phone, the car keys, a travel-size pack of tissues, Chapstick, a bag of almonds, and hand sanitizer.

Frowning, I tug the bag from my shoulder and peer inside.

My fingers are not deceiving me.

No wallet.

“Shit.”

“That’s a bad word,” Ari tells me.

“Sorry, baby. Um, I think I left my wallet in the car.” I turn to the cashier, a teenager with bright green streaks in her hair. She’s chewing gum and eyeballing the ever-growing line behind me.

“Can I run out real quick and check?” My face is so hot right now it might burst into flames like the head of a struck match.

I can’t believe this is happening.

When did I last use my wallet? Was it earlier when I paid for lunch during my terrible date? Or maybe it fell out when I was answering my phone. Maybe it’s in the car somewhere. What am I going to do if I can’t find it? I’m going to have to take Ari with me while I’m searching everywhere, all while she asks me why a thousand more times, and if I can’t find it?—

“I’ve got this.” A deep voice behind me breaks through my racing thoughts. A tanned and toned forearm reaches across the register and hands a plastic card to the cashier.

The limb pulls back to its owner.

Its extremely attractive owner.

Fuck my life.

He has dark hair pushed back from his head, disheveled like he’s been running his fingers through it, or he just rolled out of bed.

Our eyes meet, his warm and brown, mine stressed, humiliated, and exhausted. My mortification rises as I absorb his striking features: aquiline nose and strong chin accentuated by scruff lining his jaw.

I’m painfully aware of my own plain brown hair, cut short because it’s the easiest and most efficient style, the lack of makeup on my face, and the dirt smudging my shirt. I had to help Priscilla pull some weeds after lunch and I never had a chance to change or clean up or refresh my deodorant.

And now this handsome stranger is paying for my food.

I swallow the shame of it down long enough to speak. “Thank you so much. I’m so sorry. I can pay you back.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Seriously, if you give me your information, I’ll get the money to you as soon as possible.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The corner of his mouth kicks up and every female in a fifty-foot radius sighs.

Except Ari.

“Momma,” she says, tugging on my arm. “I have to poop.”

I sigh. “That about sums up my whole day perfectly.”

Hot Guy barks out a laugh.

I give him a wry smile while dying inside.

Why me?

* * *

The crab problem ends up being the easiest part of my day. We’re able to capture them by opening the fridge just wide enough to hold up a cooler and corral them inside. It only takes ten minutes because eventually, the suckers crawl right in. Priscilla only releases three blood-curdling screams during the whole process.

We avoid having to explain the situation to the renter, because he still hasn’t arrived by the time Ari and I leave with the cooler, taking it out to the nearest river to release the crabs.

Three hours later, I finally get a little peace and quiet.

I sit on the old beige couch in my living room with two packages of fruit snacks and take a deep breath, slumping back against cushions soft from years of use.

Ari is finally asleep. Dinner was chicken strips, fries, and fruit salad because I only had enough bandwidth to open and shut the oven.

Then it was bath time, followed by letting Ari watch a half hour of Bluey before bedtime.

But that’s never the end of it. She got up twice to go to the bathroom and another time to get a drink of water.

The girl is always thirstiest at nine p.m.

But now, finally, the house is silent. I’ve put in a load of laundry, including Ari’s cape, and now it’s time to unwind. My mind circles back, recapping the events of the day.

I can’t believe Samantha is pregnant.

I can’t believe people left live freaking crabs in a rental.

I can’t believe I lost my wallet and some hot guy bought me groceries today.

I can’t believe I went on the worst lunch date ever and that tragic event was the highlight of my day.

Demolishing the first package of fruit snacks, I crumple the wrapper and toss it on the coffee table.

Maybe the highlight of my day was the brief moment with the guy at the store, despite the embarrassment of not being able to pay for our food. He was really hot. And obviously generous. I bet he doesn’t chew with his mouth open like the guy I went to lunch with earlier. Or more likely, he does.

If life has taught me anything, it’s that fantasy is always better than reality. If I got to know him, I would probably find out he’s a liar, player, bigot, sociopath, or some combination of all four, like every other guy I’ve attempted to date in the past six years... which to be fair is like, two, but whatever.

I take a deep breath and blow it out. I love this time of night. It’s the only time I have to relax.

The doorbell rings, and I jump to my feet.

I pass the hall to the bedrooms on my way to the front door, ears straining for the patter of Ari’s feet. Once she’s out, she’s a deep sleeper, but still. This better not be one of the tenants. It shouldn’t be. Our address isn’t listed on anything, only my number for emergencies before nine. After nine, it rings to Priscilla since I can’t leave Ari.

I stretch up on my toes to peer through the peephole. Surprise knocks me back on my heels. What the hell is he doing here?

Pulling the door open, I step out on the porch and shut the door behind me.

“Ryan. You’re home.” Rob’s eyes flick up and down my body and my skin crawls.

I threw on sweats and a tank top when Ari and I were doing our bedtime routine. It is not a sexy look, so why is he checking me out like that? I cross my arms over my chest.

Why is my terrible lunch date here? How did he get my address?

“What are you doing here?” Behind him, an unfamiliar gray sedan is parked in front of my house. That must be his car.

Across the street, in front of the newly dubbed “crab shack,” a single light is on in the front window and an old green pickup rests dark and silent against the curb. The renter made it.

The rest of the cul-de-sac is dark and empty.

He holds up a square black object. “You left this at the restaurant.”

My wallet. Relief surges through me. “Oh thank god.” I pluck it from his fingers and flip it open, checking everything inside is intact.

Rob leans in and lifts a hand, pressing his palm flat against the doorframe near my head. “What? You think I would steal from you?”

“Oh, no, of course not. I just wanted to make sure nothing fell out, or I didn’t leave my card in the billfold at the restaurant. I’ve done that before.”

“I didn’t even look in there. Well, except to get the address so I could find you.” He leans closer, his breath fanning my face.

Ugh. He stinks like stale beer.

The chicken strips from dinner curdle in my stomach.

He’s not bad looking. He’s thirty, single, blond, and blue eyed, and he has a good job. He just started working with my best friend’s brother at his contracting company building houses. He’s some kind of engineer, so he’s smart. On paper, he’s great.

In reality? Not so much.

During our date, he talked about himself nonstop, forgot his wallet, chewed with his mouth open, and checked his phone every time I opened my mouth to contribute to the conversation.

Not to mention that while he did bring me my wallet and didn’t steal from me, he also hasn’t offered to pay me back for his half of lunch. And why did he wait until nine o’clock at night to bring me my wallet?

He leans in closer. “Are you going to invite me in?”

Ah ha. That’s why. He thought I might fall to my knees in gratitude. Literally. Ick. “No.”

“No?” He blinks, as if baffled by the word.

“It’s not a good time.” Not that I need to explain myself. No is a complete sentence, after all.

His brow wrinkles and his gaze slides to the door behind me, like he can see through the wood. “Do you have someone else here?”

“No.”

As if to immediately contradict my words, a thump sounds behind me, and the handle turns.

“Momma?”

I flip around, attempting to block her view. I don’t introduce men I date to Ari. Not that there have been many of them, but I wouldn’t even think about it until I’ve vetted them thoroughly and I know it might go somewhere. I only do one-off lunch dates when she’s in school or camp and not around to see it.

“Stay inside, baby. I’ll be right in.”

She frowns but is too groggy to argue with me or ask who’s here or why, thankfully.

I shut the door.

Rob is sneering at me, his lip curling in disdain. “You have a kid?”

“Yes. I have a kid.” My eyes flick to the scooter resting against the porch railing, then the Barbie Mermaid pool in the corner and the container of sidewalk chalk next to it.

This guy is a moron.

I straighten, squaring my shoulders. “It’s time for you to leave.”

“Whatever.” He waves a hand behind him, already stomping down the porch steps. “I can’t believe Austin thought I would be into used goods,” he mutters as he’s walking away.

I roll my eyes and grit my teeth, taking a deep breath before slipping back inside, locking the door behind me, and hitting the porch light off with a little more force than necessary.

“Who was that, Momma?” Ari peers at me from the hallway.

“No one. No one at all.” I pick her up, her head dropping to my shoulder as her sleepy warmth wraps around me.

“The talking woke me up,” she mutters into my neck.

“It’s okay. No more talking.”

I carry her back to her room and tuck her in, her eyes remaining shut the whole time. I sit on the edge of her bed and watch her for a minute. A soft blue glow from her Elsa night light shines over her face, her long eyelashes casting crescent shadows on her cheeks.

I wouldn’t give up my life, as challenging as it can be, for anything. Definitely not for some douchebag who doesn’t even know how to chew food properly.

Anyone who sees a child as baggage and not as a gift isn’t worth my time or energy.

I suppose it’s a good thing that the trash takes itself out, every single time.