Chapter 18 Shit. Damn. Fuck #2
What the fuck? “That’s when you tell her no! Or at least call me and ask. That’s how kids get kidnapped.”
“There hasn’t been a single kidnapping in Mount Holly since the town was founded.”
“And I don’t want my daughter to be the first. It’s the principle of it. You just don’t send someone else’s kid off to a stranger’s house.”
She rolls her eyes. “We used to send you off all the time as a kid. Half the time we didn’t even know where you were, but you always came home as soon as it got dark.
You were just fine. Mount Holly isn’t like a big city.
I don’t think you’ve been gone that long.
Anyway, dinner will be ready in about ten minutes, if you’re hungry. ”
My stomach growls, but I ignore it. “No thanks. I’m getting my daughter.”
“Be nice!” my mom yells as I storm out.
Nice? Right. My teeth grind together. What the hell was she thinking?
Leaving Josie alone with Brie. You don’t dump someone’s kid with someone else.
Who does that? My mom apparently. Once outside, I hurdle the snowbank separating the two driveways and jog up the pathway to the front door.
I jab the doorbell, taking my anger out on the button.
Several seconds pass before the door opens.
Mrs. McKenna greets me with a warm smile. She has the same dark hair as Brie, but it’s laced with silver. “Logan! Come in. Josie’s in the kitchen.”
I don’t waste time. I stride past her, following the sound of giggles. And then I stop dead in my tracks.
Brie stands at the counter, her ponytail swinging while her red sweater is dusted in flour.
A smear streaks across her cheek, and all I want is to wipe it away with my thumb.
Feel her soft skin under mine. Next to her, Josie’s perched on a chair in an apron so big it nearly swallows her.
Flour also covers her cheeks along with a wide grin.
The sight punches me in the throat. Josie used to do this with Brooke. And now she can’t. Instead it’s Brie.
I clear my throat. “Josie. Time to go.”
“But Dad,” Josie protests, “the cookies are still baking.”
“I’m sure Brie can finish them.” My tone is sharper than intended.
Brie shoots me a glare hotter than the oven behind her. Then, with the kind of composure I clearly lack, she tells Josie, “I’ll pack up some of the ones we already made for you.”
“Okay, thank you.” Josie jumps off the chair and tugs off the apron. “Thanks for inviting me over to bake cookies. I had so much fun.”
“Josie. Put on your coat and boots,” I say, my eyes locked on Brie.
As soon as Josie’s out of the room, I lower my voice. “What the hell are you doing?”
Brie rears her head back. “Excuse me?”
“Do you think you can take charge and do whatever you want with my daughter?”
“I’m sorry for crossing any boundaries. Your mom was with us but had to leave. Josie wanted to stay. What was I supposed to do? Break her heart and tell her no?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what you do.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“If you want to deny your daughter an afternoon of fun, go for it. But I think you are directing your anger at the wrong person right now.” Her voice sharpens, matching mine. We’re locked in a stare-down, two gunslingers at high noon. And damn it, she doesn’t flinch.
“Dad, I’m ready.” Josie comes back into the kitchen with her winter gear on.
Brie stacks several cookies into a container and passes it to Josie. “Thanks for helping me bake today,” she says, her tone soft as if she wasn’t annoyed with me a second earlier.
“I hope we can do it again,” Josie replies.
I tear my gaze from Brie and take Josie’s hand, leading her out of the house and back to my parents’ driveway without another word.
At the truck, I help Josie in before rounding the front. Once in the driver’s seat, I slam the door, my head pounding.
“I had so much fun today. I wish I didn’t have to leave.” Josie kicks her feet as she stares down at the container of decorated cookies in her lap like it’s treasure.
Fuck. Josie always loved baking cookies. I’m a shit baker, so it’s something I never did with her. And Brie—damn her—gave Josie one of the best afternoons she’s had in years, and I ruined it.
“I’m glad you had a good day.” I flash her a small smile.
“You seemed a little mad.” Her voice cuts through me like a knife.
“No, Peanut. It’s just been a long day.”
“I made a cookie especially for you.” Opening the lid of the container, she reveals a sugar cookie decorated with red and green icing that spells out Best Dad.
My chest squeezes. “That’s almost too pretty to eat.”
She giggles. “But you have to eat it. It’s a cookie.”
“Alright, when we get home, we’ll share it.”
“We were going to make chocolate chip cookies, but I told Brie your favorite was English toffee, so we switched to those.”
Best damn cookie ever invented. Brooke’s recipe always held the number one spot.
Soft but slightly crisp from the toffee.
“Let me try one of those.” She digs out one of the English toffee cookies, and I take a bite—and nearly moan.
Instantly, I’m hit with an overload of delicious buttery caramelized flavor.
The cookie is soft and chewy in the center but chocked full of sweet and salty toffee bits.
Did my dick just twitch from a cookie? Quite possibly.
Once I’m done chewing the first bite, I stuff my mouth with the second half.
“Do you like it?” Josie asks.
I nod. “This might be the best cookie ever created.”
Josie giggles. “Even better than moms?”
“Your mom’s toffee cookies are hard to beat, but these are good. Really good.”
“I thought so too.” She kicks her feet as her smile fades to the window.
Guilt gnaws at me. Brie didn’t deserve my fury. She gave Josie a piece of her mom back. And me? I stormed in like the Grinch, hell-bent on stealing it. I don’t deserve Best Dad. Asshole Dad is more like it.