Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Daisy
Laila kicked her feet against the seat. “Why can’t I stay with Daddy?”
“He has to work. You’ll be with him next weekend.” I glanced in the rearview mirror. Her militant little gaze was pinned out the window. “I can’t wait for you to see your new room.”
She frowned like a disparaging governess.
Okay then.
I drove out of town to the house. Instead of driving by, I was turning down the drive. My chest tightened. Alder’s pickup was backed up to the far garage door, which was closed. He’d saved the closest one to the house for me. The mudroom that connected the garage and the kitchen was one of the most worn rooms, but it was functional.
“Who’s here?” Laila asked.
“Alder. Remember? He’s living with us.”
Her scowl wasn’t heartening.
I parked in the garage and gathered my purse and lunch bag while surreptitiously trying to gauge Laila’s reaction. The dubious expression on her face stayed as she scrambled out of the back seat.
I opened the door to the house and let her go inside ahead of me. The first thing that hit me was the savory smell. Yesterday, it had smelled like dust and cleaner. Today? Roasting meat. My stomach rumbled.
The next thing that hit me was the mudroom. A fresh coat of eggshell paint covered the walls, and the old wood on the bench and the board holding the coat hooks shone with fresh polish. The floor had been freshly scrubbed of all the footprints from the movers yesterday. Every time I thought of something that needed to be done, Alder had already done it. I couldn’t identify the emotion swirling inside me, so I stuffed it away.
Alder appeared on the other side of the opening into the kitchen, a dish towel over his shoulder. He was in a loose, red, King Oil hoodie that still couldn’t hide his wide shoulders. His jeans today were even more worn, hugging his thighs like a stripper on a pole. “Hey. How was your day?”
I blinked at him as if he were a sight I’d never seen before. I hadn’t, actually. An Alder cooking in the kitchen wasn’t in my bank of memories. He used to help his mom, and he’d been on a dishes rotation. But an entire meal? “Whatever you made yourself smells delicious.”
“I tossed in a roast for all of us.”
Laila flapped out of her coat and kicked her boots off. “Yuck.”
Alarm passed through Alder’s expression. Damn. He’d made sure to cook what I told him she liked.
“You love roast,” I told her as I helped her hang up her coat.
She was a beefaholic to the point I worried that when she saw her first cow, she’d have an existential crisis. But no. She loved cows, and she loved her protein.
She kicked off her purple winter boots.
“Line those up on the rug, please.”
She stomped her stockinged feet but did as I asked. “I don’t want roast.”
Her Rs still had a slight W sound. “Alder went to a lot of work to make a meal for us.” I lifted my gaze to him. “Thank you.”
His brow was furrowed as he witnessed Laila’s subtle tantrum. “It’s ready when you are.” He stood aside for us.
I herded Laila to the large, solid-wood dining room table. My small folding table was in the garage. Same with the chairs. Three places were set with dishes that weren’t the set I’d kept when we divorced. I still had most of the pieces, but he hadn’t unpacked those. Instead, the plates and flatware were like the table. Sophisticated and quality, but lacking any flair, in a solid slate gray. A wealthy bachelor’s belongings.
One plate was at the head of the table. The other two were on either side. One chair had Laila’s pink plastic booster seat hooked to it. Ready for a happy family.
Dread crawled up my throat, robbing me of my appetite. With Jason’s shift work and overtime, we had only eaten as a family less than a third of the month. I had looked forward to a nice meal then, but this was with Alder, and Laila was not impressed.
He was trying to be nice. Besides, this wasn’t the Alder I had known.
I ushered Laila to her chair. “Here’s your spot.”
She didn’t get into her seat. “I don’t want it.”
“Sit, please.”
My tone prompted her to move. She crawled into her seat. When I turned, Alder was behind the island, watching me, an unreadable expression on his face.
I used to catch him watching me with a distant smile on his face. This wasn’t the same. I folded my arms across my chest. “What’s up?”
“You sounded like Mom.”
I relaxed. “I learned a lot about parenting from watching her.”
“From my mom?” He carried a dish with a small beef roast surrounded by cubed potatoes and carrots to the table.
“The warm and fuzzy stuff. My mom is perfunctory.”
“What’s that mean?” Laila asked, kicking her feet against the chair legs.
“It means there’s a little of both moms raising you,” I said. She talked like a grown woman because of my mom. But she was expressive and open with her feelings because of Magnolia Duke’s influence on me.
Alder set the roast on the table and glanced between me and Laila.
“I don’t want to be by him.” Laila rolled her eyes toward Alder and adopted a mutinous glare.
Crap. “Laila?—”
“I don’t want?—”
“It’s all right.” Alder picked up his plate and utensils. He smiled tightly. “There are more chairs.”
Laila pointed to the other end of the table, the farthest from her, like a tiny dictator.
I bit the inside of my cheek before I giggled. Things had always been easy for Alder. People liked him. He bounced back from our divorce way better than me as the multitude of expensive suits attested to. Violet said he’d been head-hunted at the refinery because he’d left an impression on them when he’d worked there after high school. But he was not winning over a four-year-old girl.
He sat at the opposite end of us. I took some roast and cut it into small pieces for Laila. She poked at her potatoes and carrots.
“How was work?” Alder asked.
My knife was poised over my food. He was making small talk, but the idea crawled over my skin. Catching up about the day around an evening meal. It was what families did.
“Fine.” I stuffed a carrot into my mouth.
Alder hesitated before he took a bite. We ate in silence. Laila finally ate some of her roast, and I coaxed her into eating a carrot. When I was done and Laila was finishing up, I rose to clear my plate. I carried it around the island and loaded it in the empty dishwasher.
“There’s dessert,” Alder said.
Laila snapped her head up and looked at me. If Alder thought he could buy her affection with sweets, he was correct.
“I’m sure there was plenty of dessert at your dad’s,” I told her. I never worried about Jason cheating. I worried about him eating the last piece of my birthday cake or chewing through Halloween candy by the end of the week.
The false innocence on her face made me hope that she’d be a terrible liar at least through her teenage years.
“We should skip tonight,” I said. It wasn’t about the sweets, although Laila got an upset stomach if she ate too many of Jason’s mini candy bars. It was all of this. The set table. Dinner ready when we walked through the door. Dessert.
His gaze dropped like he knew exactly why I’d said no.
“Okay,” she said mournfully and dropped her fork. She wiggled out of her booster still chewing her last bite of food.
“Ready for a bath?” I pointed to her place settings.
“I had one at Daddy’s.” When she grabbed her plate, it clattered to the floor. The dish busted into three large pieces and who knew how many shards. Juice from the roast, carrots, and potatoes scattered over the table and onto the floor.
She jumped back. “Sorry!”
I skimmed around the island. “Just stay where you are.”
Alder was already on his feet. He plucked her out of the middle of the mess, spun, and set her on her feet by the table.
She ran around his chair toward me. “Mommy!” She rammed into my hip and wrapped her arms around me.
I rubbed her shoulders. “It’s okay.”
“Sorry!” Alder had his hands in the air. “Sorry, I should’ve asked. I was terrified she’d take a step and get glass in her foot.”
I nodded, grateful for his quick reflexes. “Thank you. She’s scared about it all.”
He waved off the mess. “I’ll get it. Don’t worry. I’ll clean everything up.”
Since Laila was still clutching me, I’d take her out and calm her down. “Let’s go take a bath. I think you’ll like the new bathtub. There are no cracks in this one.”
The crush of her arms eased. Laila liked her marathon baths. I gave Alder a small, grateful smile. The concern etched around his eyes only made him more handsome. So damn caring. So responsible.
This is the man I had thought I married the first time. Too bad he hadn’t become that guy until the second time we’d married—when it was too late.
Alder
The broken shards were cleaned up, the table wiped off, and the dishwasher was going. I’d even gone outside to see if Daisy needed more stuff carried in, but there’d only been a backpack. Laila must have stuff at her dad’s place. I left the cookies in the tray in the cupboard.
Daisy’s dismay when I’d said there was dessert… Had I thought it’d show her what a good guy I was?
Maybe. I thought she’d be appreciative. She’d probably had a long day, and I had only wanted to help. Mom used to say cookies made everything better. Daisy used to agree with her.
But what did I know of Daisy these days? What did I know of her daughter?
I rubbed the sudden ache behind my sternum. Daisy and I had talked about how many kids we’d have—two like her parents or six like mine? She’d agreed to start with two, but she had to be done with college first.
We’d gotten divorced before she’d graduated.
I checked my watch. The bath had been going for forty-five minutes. Had Laila turned into a prune by now?
I paced through the living area into the kitchen. My furniture had been purchased for a new-build house in Billings. The hard lines and shades of gray didn’t fit the hominess of my childhood home. I had rarely crashed on the couch, but I could picture Daisy and Laila cuddling against the cushy armrest.
Several minutes later, the bathroom door opened, and I stepped out of the way. Laila wasn’t comfortable around me, and I couldn’t blame her. I was a strange man, and now I was living with her and her mother when her dad wasn’t. The breakup had to be hard to comprehend for someone so young. Throw in a non-relationship and no wonder she’d wanted me at the far end of the table.
I pushed a hand through my hair.
“You painted the whole room?” Daisy’s stunned voice carried down the hall.
I jumped to the doorway. Laila was swaddled from head to toe in a green towel that had a frog hood that went over her head. Only her little toes were sticking out.
They’d come into the house, and we’d eaten right away. Daisy must’ve herded her into the bathroom first without veering into the bedroom.
“Yeah. I just did the standard off-white for now. But if you decide what you want?—”
“I’ll do it.” Daisy’s gaze jerked around the room. She wasn’t looking at me.
Shit.
“Laila and I will decide what she wants in her room, and I’ll paint. If she wants me to.”
Laila had the towel hugged around her, but she flipped the frog head back and gave me a plaintive stare.
Point taken. I gestured to the small unicorn backpack at the base of the bed. “I brought that back for you.”
“Thank you.” Daisy still wasn’t looking at me. “Can you shut the door, please?”
“Sure.” I was once again alone outside of the room she and Laila were in. I wandered toward the living room. All evening, I’d felt like I had stepped to the left when I should’ve been going right.
I could get started on the projects I’d planned for tomorrow, but I stood staring out the front windows. The yard light lit the driveway. Snow blanketed the ground and covered the bushes. In a month, it’d be Christmas.
I glanced around the living room. The walls were bare. Would Daisy decorate? She wasn’t—hadn’t been—a big decorator, but she’d always put a tree up.
Minutes ticked by before the door clicked open. It shut softly, and Daisy’s stocking feet whispered across the hardwood.
I turned to take her in. She had her hands buried in the sleeves of her sweater, her fingertips gripping the end to keep it from pulling up. “About today…”
“I really thought I was helping. I had all the painting supplies out and?—”
“Did you paint my room too?”
Her tone wasn’t hopeful. Or appreciative. “You hate purple.”
She finally met my gaze and sighed. “You can’t keep doing this.”
“I’m just trying?—”
“We’re roommates. You don’t need to cook for us, and you don’t need to remodel our rooms.”
“It was just a quick paint job. I’m going to paint the whole house anyway.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I get that, but sitting for a meal? All of us?”
“Laila’s not ready?”
A furrow formed in her brow. “Why should she be ready?”
The hint of challenge in her tone utterly deflated me. I thought she’d feel taken care of. I thought she’d feel less alone through all this. I thought she’d like seeing me be productive. Did she think I moved her and Laila in to have a ready-made family? That we’d start up where we left off?
Damn, it might look that way, but she was helping me. Maybe I wanted to prove I wasn’t a lazy, selfish asshole anymore. While I might be hung up on why she’d left, she’d lived a whole life. Didn’t mean I wanted to sit by while she had her hands full. “I’m not trying to overstep, Daze.”
“Then what are you doing? Dinner and dessert?”
“You’re doing me a favor. Your daughter is getting dragged along with it. I was trying to make the first night we’re all under the same roof a pleasant one.”
Regret flashed in her eyes, but her stance remained rigid. “I can’t do this.”
I waited for her to elaborate. The air between us thickened.
“This is too much like…” Her expression wavered, and utter sadness shone through her blue eyes.
“What we had,” I finished quietly, wishing I could reach for her, pull her into my arms.
“I can’t pretend we’re a happy family. I haven’t been single that long. Laila’s getting used to not having her dad around. And you and I?” The crease in her brow deepened. “We divorced and went our separate ways. We haven’t even been friends for almost fifteen years.”
She had moved to Bismarck to finish her school and work, and I had moved to Williston so I didn’t have to commute to the oil fields. Then I’d quit and went to school. Now I was in charge of a goddamn oil refinery and still as fucking alone as I had been after I signed the divorce papers.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. This arrangement wasn’t supposed to stress her out, make her sad, or upset Laila. My mind spun for a solution. I was a CEO, dammit. I could figure this out.
Define the problem. “Okay, so, you don’t want any semblance of family. We need to figure out what that means.” Yes. That was it. Daisy liked cut-and-dried. “Mind sitting at the table? I’ll find a pen and paper.”
“Why?” she asked slowly.
“We’re going to draft a roommate agreement.”
She blinked several times. “A roommate agreement?”
I lifted my chin toward the kitchen and followed her in. I kept my gaze glued to between her shoulder blades. Roommates didn’t ogle the other’s ass.
I liked how hers had gotten fuller.
No staring!
I dug out a notepad and pen that I had unpacked last night. Daisy sat at the spot she’d eaten in. To be safe, I took the end of the table Laila had banished me to.
“No family meals.” I scribbled it down. “What about if I throw something in the oven or crockpot for all of us and you two just eat when it’s convenient for you?”
She pursed her lips. One of the moves I’d seen her daughter do. “What about if the same time is convenient for all of us?”
“I can eat in the living room. Speaking of which, if you’re watching something, should I stay away?” Please say no . I didn’t watch TV, but I didn’t want to be banished from any room they were in. I didn’t want her to think I wanted an instant family, but I wanted…her. I wanted to get to know the new Daisy…and her daughter. When the year was over? I had to know whether there was anything I could’ve done or if splitting had been our destiny anyway.
She ran her teeth over her lower lip. “I mean, I like to watch my murder shows after Laila goes to bed.”
“Murder shows?”
She let out a long breath. “If it’s a documentary about a serial killer, I’m watching it. If people are talking about how or why they killed someone, I’m binging it. If a husband murdered his bride, I’m in.”
That was new. “Why do you like those?”
“They keep my mind busy, and I can cross-stitch without missing a lot of plot.”
“You cross-stitch?” The divide between us was growing, only I felt like I was on a small patch of ice floating away from the mainland. If I scrambled to get back to shore, I’d drown—or get taken out by a sea lion.
“It’s not like I have homework anymore.” She wrinkled her nose. “I guess if we’re sitting on the same couch or love seat, it should be fine.”
She couldn’t sound confident. I noted it, but made an asterisk next to the sentence Same room okay to remind myself that she had reservations.
A bath and three bedrooms were upstairs. I could make one into a sitting room with my own TV, but I didn’t offer that up as an option. I’d have no excuse to be around her.
“Do we do a ‘first come, first served’ rule with the TV?” she asked. “If you’re gaming?—”
“I don’t game.”
She recoiled. I hadn’t snapped at her, but I’d been resolute.
“I was staying up late.” Drinking and partying and gaming. “I was late for work one too many times.” Napped on shift one too many times. “It was behave or get fired.” Before she could question why I’d change for a job and not her, I had a question I needed to ask. “Thanksgiving is next week. Christmas is coming. Holidays?”
She slumped in her seat, her eyes dark with thought. “Jason and I talked about this year already. Laila’s having Thanksgiving with me and Mom, and then he wants to take her to his parents’ place in Minot. He’s going to take a week off so he doesn’t have to rush.”
“Did he ever take that much time off when it was just you three?”
“No, he didn’t—” She scowled. “No personal questions. Write that down, Duke.”
Instead of being hurt, I bit back a smile. There was baggage around the holidays with Jason. Didn’t she care to spend that much time with his family, or hadn’t he made the holidays special? Daisy didn’t wear her heart on her sleeve, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t having fun or looking forward to having fun. Sometimes, she’d even say it.
If Daisy said “I’m looking forward to Christmas,” that meant she wanted it like a movie. Wake up to a mountain of presents, have a relaxed breakfast and lounge in pajamas, then meet with family and laugh and play card games all day. She’d gotten that experience with my family. With hers, the day was quiet, the presents subdued. The afternoons were trying to stay awake while idly chatting. I had tried to make it up the next day by arranging a gathering at my parents’ place.
She hadn’t answered about what she’d do for Christmas without Laila. I’d keep that in mind.
“If I invite Mom and Dad over, is that okay? Violet and Evander? Lily and Eliot? The others?”
Daisy’s expression grew more troubled with each one. “You still entertain?”
“My parents and siblings,” I reassured her. No single dudes who camped among empty beer cans and gaming controls.
She lifted a brow. “That all?”
“If I had C-suite parties at King Oil, it’d still be me and Dad.”
“Dates?”
Not if I could help it. I tapped the pen on point three. “No personal questions.”
Chagrined, she looked away. “What about dates now?”
“I’m married.” That felt too good to say.
She snorted. “Like that’s going to stop anyone.”
“It’ll stop me,” I growled.
Curiosity entered her expression. “Has it always?” She shook her head and pressed her palms against her cheeks. “Oh god. Forget I asked. I didn’t mean to dredge up the?—”
“Of course it always stopped me.” A punch of anger at myself hit me between the eyes. I’d make an exception for this. She’d lost a lot of trust in me after the way I’d behaved as a young adult with intoxicating freedom and enough money to be stupid. I’d been reckless, but not in that way. “I might’ve crashed at a friend’s place, but I didn’t land inside anyone. I didn’t touch them, and I wouldn’t let them touch me.”
She shook her head like it didn’t matter.
I leaned across the table. “ Never , Daisy. I never strayed. And the first date I went on after the divorce made me sick to my stomach.”
She blanched, her gaze glued to the tabletop. “It was hard, wasn’t it?”
None of the dates had gotten better after the first. “I had no idea what to do, and I had felt like a cheater even though we’d been done for two years.”
She snapped her head up. “Two years?”
“Yep.” Part of me had thought she’d ask for me back. I’d had a game plan in mind. First, I’d play hard to get. Then I’d grudgingly say yes, and from there, it’d be back to normal. Only she had moved, and after she had graduated college, she had gotten a job even farther away from Coal Haven.
“My experience was about the same. Worst decision I ever made.” Anger flashed across her face, but after she ran a hand over her face, it was gone, her features neutral. “So we have four points right now?”
“I’m not even writing ‘no dating’ down.”
She crossed one leg under her. “Um, discretion. I know there’s an upstairs bathroom, but if you could remain fully clothed while on this level? Laila shouldn’t be seeing”—she fluttered her fingers toward me—“that.” Pink dusted her cheeks.
I swallowed my grin. Her embarrassment ignited a long-dormant playful side of me. “No going shirtless?”
“Don’t go around in just boxers.”
“I still wear boxer briefs.” Her blush darkened, and the struggle not to grin was getting harder. “What about just shorts, or is a shirt required one hundred percent of the time?”
“Yes.”
“And when Laila’s gone? Still no shirtless Saturdays?”
She sputtered, and laughter broke out of me.
Her flush spread to her neck. “Write it down.”
“Bare feet?”
“Jesus, Alder.”
I kept chuckling. “Just trying to be clear.” I made the note but only about me. Daisy could walk around in a thong, and I wouldn’t fucking complain.
“I’ll pitch in for two-thirds of the groceries.”
I shook my head. “Your little birdie isn’t going to eat that much.”
“Still.”
I didn’t write it down.
“Laila needs structure and that includes her food,” Daisy said. “The dessert was a nice gesture, but it’s a free-for-all at her dad’s, and I’ve learned her moods don’t free-for-all.”
I nodded, jotting down Food routine .
“She goes to bed at seven. I know it’s early, but I have to wake her at six to get us both dressed and fed and get her to daycare.”
“I’ll defer to you for anything Laila.”
“Thank you.” She picked at a loose string on the hem of her sweater. “She’ll warm up to you. It’s been a lot of change.”
Touched she encouraged Laila not to hate me, I gave her a small smile. “I have to be honest, I didn’t think it’d be so hard to win a four-year-old over. Lily’s oldest lets me bribe her to be her favorite uncle.”
Daisy smiled. “How does Jasper take it?”
“I strongly suspect he’s also been told he’s the favorite uncle. Now she has all of Eliot’s brothers, and we’re both screwed.”
A bark of laughter left her, and I could only stare. Her eyes were radiant and her grin was wide. This easiness between us had been all but lost, yet here it was.
All I had to do was denigrate my uncle abilities. “The real reason I took the job was so I could be closer and bribe Lily’s kids, and get a jumpstart on Violet and Evander’s babies. Jasper has those little carvings that win them over. The refinery likes to claim they’re a family-centered company, and I’m going to hold them to that.”
She stifled a yawn. “I think I have to head to bed. I’m tired, but I also think Laila is going to find her way to my room in the middle of the night. She’s scared about her new bedroom.”
“If you need any help decorating it for her, let me know. I have a new cordless drill and I’m dangerous.”
Her gaze softened. “Thank you, Alder.” She got up and pushed her chair in. She hesitated, her hands on the seatback. “That dessert still available?”
“Monster cookies from the grocery store.” Which I knew full well she loved. The same family had owned the grocery store for fifty years. I’d make sure that cookie corner in the cupboard was always full.