4. A Rescue Mission
A RESCUE MISSION
WILLOW
“W here did you find Captain Lick?” Quill asks, her eyes alight with curiosity.
When she squealed out her first words, I thought that was it—just one little moment. But dang, it’s like this kid flipped some invisible switch in her voice box, and now it’s question after question. Not that I’m complaining.
“Captain Lick was a puppy when my mom found him at the shelter where she volunteers. He’s been moody since day one. If he wants something, he doesn’t take no for an answer.” I smile as Quill’s tiny hand slips through the opening in the bag to pet Captain Lick’s soft fur.
“He’s so—” She stops when the air around us vibrates with a loud, rumbling sound, like someone decided to trim the clouds with a chainsaw.
My head snaps to the side, searching for the source of the noise. “What the heck?” I mutter, shielding my eyes against the sun.
It’s a freaking helicopter, hovering way too low, almost at eye level. Cherrywood isn’t exactly a hotbed of aerial activity, so this is definitely making tomorrow’s gossip rounds. I can already picture my friend Violet, probably perched on some rooftop right now like Lois Lane, trying to get a scoop.
“Where do you think it’s going?” Quill asks, pointing at the red chopper that seems to be heading straight for us.
“Who knows, but there’s no shortage of rich guys around here trying to show off.” My mind immediately conjures up a particularly aggravating billionaire—Raymond Teager.
Quill nods, like she totally gets what I mean. I freaking love this kid.
I’ve always been clear about two things—no kids, no marriage. I watched my mom put herself through hell in an abusive marriage, all because she thought it would be better for me to have a father around. This lifetime won’t be enough time for me to work through that guilt.
Not all marriages end up being disasters, and not all kids turn out as burdens—I know that. In fact, my best friend Daisy’s pregnant with her first child, and I already know I’ll love that kid like crazy, but as an aunt. No strings, no messy past, no risk.
On rare occasions, I try to imagine myself in Daisy’s shoes, but all I see is my mom’s exhausted face, bruises hidden under layers of makeup. No, thanks. Not happening.
“What in actual hell?” I shove my fingers into my ears as someone’s voice booms over a loudspeaker, fighting to be heard above the chopper’s roar.
What if they’re calling for you? Or worse—what if someone needs your help, Wills?
I drop my hands, annoyed with myself for being so dramatic.
“Dad’s on his way, Bug. Don’t be scared.”
The pit of my stomach twists at the sound of that all too familiar voice—the one that haunts me both while awake and asleep. Raymond Teager. There’s no way…but then Quill tugs on my sleeve, and she goes silent again, slipping back into signing with her fingers.
“That’s my dad,” she signs.
Did I fall asleep on this Ferris wheel and stumble into some kind of surreal dream?
No, this isn’t a dream. Because there, clear as day, is Raymond Teager, wearing a headset over his ears and aviators that mask his typically smug expression. And for once, he doesn’t look like the cocky jerk I’ve come to know. Instead, his forehead creases with worry, and I’ll admit it makes him look…almost human.
This can’t be real, can it? Raymond not aiming his usual brand of sharp-edged arrogance at me? I’d have better odds winning the lottery.
While I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, two men in full rescue gear descend from ropes, hovering right in front of us.
“You both alright, miss?” one of them asks, not waiting for my answer before he adds, “We’re here to bring you down safely.”
“What on earth is going on?” I finally manage, as the blood rushes back to my brain.
“Miss, there’s no time for explanations. Just follow our instructions, please,” he says, all business.
“You’re not from Cherrywood, are you?” I blurt out, still trying to make sense of it all.
The two rescuers exchange a look before shaking their heads. “No, ma’am. We’re from St. Peppers.”
Of course. City guys.
Cherrywood locals would let the Ferris wheel crank itself back to life rather than pull this dramatic stunt.
“Look, the Ferris wheel will be back up soon. There’s no need for this whole rescue mission,” I argue, mentally picturing my face plastered across the Cherrywood Gazette , being airlifted like a damsel in distress with Captain Lick in my arms. I’d never live that down.
But my words are completely ignored as one of the men yells into his headset, “The lady’s refusing, Mr. Teager.”
After a pause, he turns back to me. “It’s your call, miss, but we’re still under orders to take the kid down. Her dad is…insistent.”
Quill tightens her grip on my hand as she shakes her head.
Great, so my choices have officially hit rock bottom. Either I accept help from Raymond Teager—the last person I want to owe a favor to—or break Quill’s little heart.
I take a deep breath and try not to grit my teeth. “Can you please tell Mr. Teager that I’m only coming down because of his daughter and not because I need his help?”
It feels strange saying Raymond’s name alongside the word daughter , but here we are.
When they don’t immediately reply, I add, “Or we could stay here and wait for the ride to fix itself.”
Their exasperated looks tell me they’re not thrilled with my answer. But finally, one of them relays my message into his headset. “She’ll come down, but only because your daughter refuses to leave without her, sir.”
“What did he say?” I ask, crossing my arms as if that can shield me from whatever comeback Raymond has waiting.
The rescue guy’s face breaks into a smirk. “Can you cover the kid’s ears for a second?”
I place my hands over Quill’s ears.
“Yes, Mr. Teager, your daughter can no longer hear us,” he confirms. His expression turns smug as he relays Raymond’s response. “It’s his absolute honor to get your ass safely back on the ground, Miss Pershing. Mr. Teager is eternally grateful for the opportunity.”
I bite down on a smile that threatens to break free. He can only dream about getting anywhere near my ass.
And that’s how I find myself minutes later, clutching Captain Lick’s bag tightly on my lap, stealing glances at the odd scene playing out around me.
Raymond pulls Quill closer, double-checking her harness for what has to be the hundredth time. Once he’s finally satisfied, his expression shifts from worry to a full-on scowl—directed entirely at me, like I’m the one who stuck his daughter on the Ferris wheel and hit the stop button.
“I’d like a word with you,” he grits out, his stare so intense it feels like daggers.
“No, thank you,” I shoot back, folding my arms.
The icy tension between us could freeze the entire chopper into an igloo.
But then, Quill shakes—a soundless, sweet giggle she tries to hide behind her tiny hands. It cracks the ice for a split second. I forget the war zone between her father and me. My lips almost betray me with a smile. And then I make the mistake of looking at Raymond, expecting him to still be seething.
I thought I’d seen every expression he was capable of, both in person and from a few too many hours Googling his name. But this soft smile on his face? It’s like it belongs to someone else entirely, transforming him in a way that’s…almost unfairly handsome.
“What’s so funny, Bug?” he asks, glancing down at his daughter with a warmth that’s—ugh, kind of endearing.
“Willow doesn’t like you, Dad,” Quill signs, beaming up at him like she just shared a big secret.
“You’d be absolutely correct, Quill,” I add, unable to resist.
Ray’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He clearly didn’t expect me to know sign language. His gaze is so intense it’s as if he’s trying to extract national secrets from me. But the moment breaks when Quill tugs on his jacket.
“Can I go on the Ferris wheel again, Daddy?”
I snicker quietly. Poor girl. Her dad isn’t letting her back on that ride anytime soon. But Raymond surprises me, saying, “You may, but not alone, and never without my permission.”
“Never?” I arch a brow, though I probably should stay out of their father-daughter moment.
A shadow crosses Raymond’s face, and he responds in a low, pointed tone, directing his answer at me even as he speaks to Quill. “Not until you’re old enough to make your own decisions.”
Completely unaware of the subtle sparring match happening between her dad and me, Quill signs, “I wasn’t alone, Daddy. I was with Willow and Captain Lick. You could see the whole town from up there.” She looks up at him, proud of herself for discovering something he didn’t know.
There’s a tiny bit of satisfaction in watching anyone, even his own kid, knock Raymond down a peg. But then Quill continues, proving she’s not exactly on Team Willow, either.
“Do you know Willow doesn’t have a dad? Like me, she only has one awesome parent.” She delivers this tidbit with the innocence of a child who doesn’t realize she’s opened up my life to the last person I’d ever choose to know about it.
I look away, out the window, anything to escape the exposure. But when I glance back, I catch Raymond blinking, almost like it’s the first time his daughter’s told him he’s doing a good job as a parent.
As much as I despise the businessman in him, I can’t deny the way he looks at Quill—like there’s nothing in the world he wouldn’t do for her happiness. The businessman might be ruthless, but the dad is pure, unfiltered devotion. For a girl like me, who didn’t have a good father figure in my early days—and then when Gramps was slowly filling that void, dementia ripped us apart—this is all too much to even make sense of.
Raymond runs a hand over his perfectly combed hair, re-centering himself. “I’m glad you had a good time, Bug. But I nearly had a heart attack seeing you up there.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Quill signs, then rests her head against his chest.
I never thought I’d consider the words Raymond and cute in the same sentence, but right now, the two of them look like the absolute definition of it.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I just need to know you’re safe all the time.”
“Does that mean I can go again with Willow and Captain Lick someday?”
Somehow, this girl has roped the Ferris wheel, me, and my dog into a package deal.
Raymond’s jaw tightens, but he simply says, “Let’s get you on the ground first, and we’ll talk about your next adventure later.”
Thankfully, in the next few minutes, we touch down. I’m ready to make a break for it, but Quill places a hand on Captain Lick’s bag. “Do you think he’d like to come out?”
And just like that, my exit strategy goes up in smoke. I end up in the elevator with Raymond and Quill, who’s now crouched low, petting my dog as he sprawls out on his back, legs in the air, loving every bit of her attention. I can’t even blame him. Captain Lick’s a total attention sponge, and Quill is giving him her undivided adoration.
A throat clears, yanking me back to reality. My smile drops, replaced by a scowl.
“I’d like to have a word, Miss Pershing,” Raymond says, slipping right back into businessman mode.
Before I can tell him I’d rather eat every candy in existence until I’m so heavy I could crush him just by sitting on him, Quill tugs on his pants.
“Her name is Willow, Dad,” she signs, as the elevator doors open.
Raymond nods, clearly unimpressed but still agreeing for his daughter. “Alright, Quill. You wait with Grandpa Will while I talk to…Miss Willow.” He levels me with a look that screams, No running away this time.
“Miss?” I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes. What am I, his schoolteacher?
But my irritated thoughts evaporate when I spot who’s waiting—a dead ringer for Gandalf, dressed to the nines in a tailored three-piece suit, complete with a silver beard and white hair. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is the “Grandpa Will” Raymond mentioned. It’s not that he looks obnoxious like Raymond, just that he has that polished, wealthy vibe.
Quill bounces out and immediately starts signing excitedly, recounting the Ferris wheel adventure to him, still without a single word. It’s enough to melt my irritation…until I see Captain Lick rubbing himself all over Raymond’s expensive suit pants like he’s marking his territory.
“Cap, come on, buddy.” I tug the leash. Predictably, my traitor of a dog ignores me.
Raymond stands there, amused, like he’s the most interesting tree in the park planted just for Captain Lick’s enjoyment. And while the rebellious part of me would find it hilarious if my dog went the extra mile and, say, marked Raymond’s thousand-dollar shoes by watering him, I don’t think Mr. Stone-Cold Teager would let that slide without retribution.
Another tug on the leash, and nothing. At this moment, I regret every bleary-eyed, early morning training session with Captain Lick, because all my hard work is apparently out the window.
“Dogs are great judges of character, you know,” Raymond finally comments, leaning down to offer his hand for a sniff before rubbing Captain Lick’s side in a way that makes my dog melt.
“Mine’s the exception,” I reply, crossing my arms. “I wouldn’t take his opinion of you.”
Raymond chuckles, a rich, lazy sound that somehow leaves a shiver trailing up my spine. “Go on, buddy,” he says to Captain Lick. “Only one of us needs to be scorched by her glare today.”
Captain Lick obeys, trotting toward me with the kind of obedience I can’t get when I actually need it. Traitor. I’m ready to bolt, but Raymond’s voice cuts through my plan.
“As I said, I’d like a word, Miss Pershing.”
Everything freezes. My mind goes blank as his hand presses gently against the small of my back, grounding me—and igniting an unexpected warmth that lingers even after he removes his hand. I take a steadying breath, trying to shove away the bizarre reaction he’s stirring.
“No, thanks,” I say briskly, summoning every ounce of calm I can muster. “I’ve reached my Raymond Teager tolerance limit for the week.”
A faint smirk curls his lips—the one that always appears when he thinks he’s winning, which, unfortunately, makes me feel like he is. Sadistic jerk.
“As much as I enjoy your tantrums, Miss Pershing, this isn’t up for debate.”
“Listen, Mr. Teager—” I put my hands up in protest, but he catches one of them, threading his fingers through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
His hand is rough, warm—not what I’d expect from someone who spends his life barking orders from behind a desk. It’s the hand of someone who’s put in the work, someone who’s earned those calluses.
And that little surprise undoes me a bit.
“It’s important.” His voice softens. There’s a weight in his tone that I’ve never heard before, a hint of something almost…vulnerable.
Raymond shuts the door behind him, and we’re standing in what looks like an empty event hall as I wait for him to say whatever he’s deemed important and private. But instead of getting straight to the point as usual, he runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up. He starts to say something, then stops, his brow furrowing like he’s trying to find the right words but seems unsure of himself, and it’s not like the man I’ve come to know—this hesitance, this awkwardness. I hate to admit it, but it’s kind of charming that he’s suddenly so unpolished for a change.
He clears his throat, his voice low and unsteady when he finally speaks. “What…what did she say?”
“Who?” I ask, playing dumb, though the look on his face tells me he’s talking about Quill. But he stares, so I ask, “You mean Quill?”
He nods, looking, for once, like a regular, flawed human being instead of an intimidating businessman. And for reasons I can’t explain, I feel my usual sharp edges soften. Just a little.
“She’s quite the chatterbox,” I say, aiming for lighthearted, but his face doesn’t relax. Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders tense. This man, who’s usually so confident, so composed, suddenly looks like he’s holding it together with frayed thread. “Um, we didn’t talk about much besides what she already told you.”
“She spoke to you,” he mutters, almost to himself.
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway, finally realizing what he’s really asking.
Quill’s never verbally spoken to him!
“H-how?” He’s tripping over his words, and it strangely affects me, like there’s something uncomfortable trapped in my chest. I don’t know what to make of it.
“She didn’t speak right away,” I say softly. His eyes snap to mine, widening a bit. “Your daughter has a beautiful voice, by the way.”
“Thanks.” His voice is thick. “I just…I wish I’d been there.”
Something knots up in my throat, and even though I don’t know the first thing about parenting, I can feel the raw ache in his words, the frustration.
“She said you’re an awesome dad, if that helps.” I tuck a stray curl behind my ear, fingers catching awkwardly in my earring.
“Thanks,” he says again, softer this time, his gaze shifting from my face to my tangled hair. His lips quirk slightly, and despite myself, an unwelcome prickling sensation runs down my spine.
“I think this might be the most amicable we’ve ever been,” he says, a smirk forming. “Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Pershing?”
And just like that, whatever weird sympathetic feelings I was having for him go right down the drain at his use of my last name. I can’t help but smile as we settle back into our usual dynamic. That’s much better than the momentary heartburn.
“Considering your DNA, it’s a miracle your daughter turned out to be so incredible,” I shoot back.
His smug expression drops for a microsecond before he chuckles. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was.” I cross my arms, eyes glinting as I tug on Captain Lick’s leash. “For Quill, obviously. And next time, I’ll see you in court, Mr. Teager.”
This time when I say the words, I don’t feel the same vengeance toward the man as I felt the last time.