Chapter Thirty-Two
Wednesday
The words slammed through T.R. all day while he ran errands. “You haven’t told her about New York and Charity, have you?”
He mulled over the scolding Tyler’d given him yesterday after Charlie had told him about the certified letter when he’d bolted to his cousin’s office to demand what the hell Ty was going to do about it.
“You better be honest with her, man. She needs to know what happened and why. Houses built on a foundation of lies always crumble. I should know.”
T.R. swiped his card at the register of the florist shop, worry hot on his mind. She was starting to trust him. He’d barely kept her agreeing to the Homegrown Awards after being dragged on that social media page.
It’s forfeit anyway if I can’t cough up the entry fee. He eyed his card.
The florist handed him a box. He thudded out and back to his truck, firing it up and riding in silence to the men’s clothiers. Everything he’d earned off that engine fix—
Flower Girl. Incoming call.
Relief slammed through him as he swerved to the side of the road and thrust the stick into neutral, swiping open his phone. After Tyler’s decision to challenge the restraining order dismissal, he’d been crawling out of his skin.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he answered, the August heat breezing through the windows. “Been thinkin’ about you all day. How’d it go?”
Prayed to all that was holy that the appeal had been upheld and the restraining order reinstated.
“So, when Mitchell lifted the restraining order,” Charlie breathed through the phone, obviously walking fast, “he’d said the reason for Jason’s arrest last Sunday was a separate issue.
The vandalism was toward police property.
Not me. And said I couldn’t claim it was needed for mine and Daisy’s safety.
But the appeals court took one look at the evidence, and they didn’t even blink an eye.
They reinstated my restraining order and have opened an inquiry into my grounds for appeal. ”
He could hear relief in her voice. He could feel relief seep into his bones. Someone was listening to her.
“You on your way back? Someone’s gotta doll my date up for tonight.”
Charlie laughed. That easy, beautiful laugh he’d fallen in love with that was so elusive.
“She’s so excited, Thad. You’ll be there, right? You promise?”
And just the question lanced hurt, because a woman shouldn’t have to verify if a man was going to show up for his daughter—
A dad. Already, he was thinking so hard on it, it was becoming real in his head. A dad, who protected, who found his reason to be a better person in rearing his children.
“You tell my wing girl to be waitin’ at the window, ’kay?”
“Okay,” she replied softly. “See you this evening. Love y—” She cleared her throat “Am gonna love getting her dressed up. She calls it her princess dress.”
But his blood rushed at what she’d been about to say.
All the way to the clothier’s shop.
The entire time he tried on jackets, tried on jeans, tried on ties.
The entire afternoon after getting home and hitting his shop for an hour to work a new engine commission for Rex Auto Works.
She’d been about to say love you, as casual as could be, like he’d just been to the store for bread or something.
She needs to know she can always trust you. The longer he let this confession go, it was only going to get harder, and harder, to face what could be lost.
*
Charlie tucked a tendril back into the braided bun she’d woven around Daisy’s crown. She checked the time on her phone.
“Do you think he’ll think I look pretty?”
“Sweet girl, he’s going to be the lucky one escorting you tonight. The question is, do you like the way you look?”
Daisy nodded, grinning, and wiggled her newly painted nails in front of Charlie’s face, then turned back to the living room window to watch the road. Dolling her daughter up like a pageant contestant in a mask of makeup was something Charlie was careful not to do, but sparkle nails were fun.
Charlie laughed and checked the time again. Five twenty-five.
“Then that’s all that matters.” She smoothed the sequins on Daisy’s bodice, pressing them in the same direction.
And with the restraining order reinstated, and no sign from Jason’s attorney that they intended to appeal it to the top, dare she breathe a sigh of relief?
Dare she feel as if she and Daisy were finally safe?
Besides, she’d seen Thad ward off Jason without batting an eye.
There was no safer place than in her T. Rex’s arms.
“Is he still coming? Did he call, Momma?” Daisy bit her lip, fingers pressed to the glass as she peered down the road in her tulle skirt embroidered with butterflies and brown cowboy boots just like T. Rex’s.
Charlie checked her phone. “I’m sure he’ll be here, soon.” She tamped down the niggle that wouldn’t dissipate.
Checked the time again. It was almost five thirty and the dance began at six. He said he’d be here at five thirty. Daisy sitting by the window waiting—
A rumbling sound echoed down the back road as if to remind her of that fact.
“Is it him?” Daisy pressed her cheek against the glass to see who was coming, as Artex bounced up beside her, tail wagging.
Please let it be him.
And sure enough, a mint-green classic truck slowed and pulled into the driveway, two minutes early. Freshly washed. Relief lifted off Charlie’s shoulders.
“It’s him. It’s him!”
Daisy jumped, dress and tendrils bouncing.
His door creaked open. A polished, black boot stepped out.
And Thaddeus Rex McClintock, like a cowgirl’s fantasy in the setting sun, pushed shut the door and straightened his turquoise and silver bollo tie over his fitted black dress shirt, black pressed jeans, and tailored sport coat that only accentuated his physique and powerful shoulders.
Hot damn. Trouble. And she was falling for him.
Sunrays glinted off his styled straw-blond hair, tousled like he fixed it for shows as he sank a black Stetson down over it.
His face was clean-shaven. And as he buttoned his coat like an Armani model, flashing a wristwatch peeking out from his sleeve, her heart stuttered at this man who kept coming around, who confronted angry exes and refused to be paid for fixing her car.
Who calculated complicated equations and didn’t drink spirits and bought her animal-crazed girl a horse and built chicken mansions.
Thad reached back into his cab for something, then shut the door, a little white box in his hand and a … plant in the other?
But as he got closer, the swirly design on the box told her it was a florist’s box. Oh, beautiful man. He’d bought her little girl a corsage.
He walked up the path, waving at Daisy in the window and flashing that divot at Charlie. Daisy blazed out of the living room in a blur of lavender to the front door, just as the porch steps creaked and a knock thumped.
Daisy opened the door and pushed out the screen.
“You came,” she whispered bounced on her toes, her smile uncontainable.
He chuckled and bent down on one knee, the scent of his cologne—teak and mint—fresh and strong on the air. “’Course I came, girlie. I promised my wing girl I’d take her dancin’.” He winked up at Charlie who bit her lip.
Then he opened up the little box.
A corsage of little daisies, similar to the ones Charlie was growing, and sprigs of baby’s breath.
“What’s it for?” Daisy asked, peering in the box excitedly.
“A little birdie told me she named her favorite person in the world after her favorite flower.” Her heart squeezed as T.R. looked up at her again.
He wanted her reaction. Wanted her to know he remembered.
“Now everyone in Nacogdoches will knows my wing girl has a date.”
Charlie blinked harder. Cleared her throat as he stretched the elastic over Daisy’s wrist, barely remembering to capture the moment with a picture.
Leaning over it, she fingered the sweetheart design. “Oh, Daisy May, it’s so pretty.”
“I got a confession to make, darlin’,” Thad said to Daisy. “I ain’t ever been to a school dance.”
He’d never been to a school dance? Surely he’d had a string of girls to choose from … except he’d dropped out of school. She hadn’t thought about what life might have been like as a teen alone on the streets but … yeah. No homecomings. No senior prom. He’d missed out on it all.
And yet, he grinned at Daisy, as if that past didn’t matter anymore when she could suddenly see, it did. It had shaped him into a man so empathetic, if not a touch bashful in the way he averted his eyes.
“Really?” Daisy’s eyes widened.
“You’re my first date.” He brushed back a curled tendril framing Daisy’s face. “And you sure do look pretty, wing girl.” He pushed to standing. “Let me give your momma something right quick before we hit the road.”
He handed Charlie the plant. She knew the leaf type perfectly and fingered them one at a time, lost for words. No man had ever brought her flowers.
“Du’nt look like much right now, but it’ll bloom when it’s ready,” he said.
She opened the card wedged into the soil in plain type face. I got you. Trouble.
His jaw was tight as she took in his meaningful stare. He’d been worried about the hearing today. She’d heard the relief in his voice when she’d called him from court.
“Leucanthemum of some sort,” she said, still feeling the leaves, tamping down the emotion and fingering the plant.
“The lady said Shasta daisies,” he replied. “And maybe I’m hopin’ there’s room in my girl’s heart for me to be one of her favorites, too.”
She was nodding as she opened her arms and wrapped them around his neck, as his arms came around her waist, as she pressed her cheek into his scent and the soft weave of his black sport coat.
“Thank you for being so wonderful,” she breathed against him, trying and failing to swallow the lump in her throat. “Thanks for letting me play with your band. Thank you for being someone we can trust.”
Silence.
As easily as he’d sagged into her, his posture went rigid.
Then his throat bobbed, and when he didn’t say anything, she cleared her throat and pulled away. “Pictures. Over here, by the lilacs.”