9. Talon
9
TALON
“ W ould you mind if I take Navy to lunch?” I ask my sister as casually as I can. She looks up from the spreadsheet in front of her, tilting her head to the side and not bothering to hide her smirk. The woman is brilliant and, for some strange reason, loves numbers. I’m good if I have to figure something out in the garage, but I’d rather have a root canal than stare at accounting all day.
“Any place in particular?” she asks coyly, and I roll my eyes.
“I thought it would be nice to take her to the Taste of Magnolia.”
“Too scared to go by yourself?” Bristol teases, and I shrug a shoulder because there’s some truth to that.
“I’d like to think Cora won’t bite my head off with Navy there.”
“You’re using my daughter as a buffer?”
“Yes.”
Bristol snickers and sits back in her chair. “Why are you tryin’ to rile her up if y’all hate each other so much?”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I look anywhere but at my sister. “I don’t hate her.” Bristol raises a brow. “Yeah, okay, I was pissed about what she said about the garage, but the rest is ancient history, mostly, and I think if I can just get her alone for a minute I could explain.”
“And apologize,” my sister says pointedly, and I nod.
“And apologize. But there’s no doubt it’s going to take some finesse.”
“I love that you’re using my daughter for this little adventure.”
“First of all,” I say defensively, “I’ll take her anywhere. It just doesn’t hurt that women love a guy who’s wrapped around his niece’s finger.”
“Uh-huh. And if you took Chip with you, that’d be like a double whammy.”
“I can’t look like I’m trying too hard.”
My sister chuckles and throws her pen at me. It hits me in the chest and bounces to the floor. “You’re ridiculous.”
“What? I was a stupid kid back then and?—”
“Don’t say stupid,” Navy says seriously, her little hands on her hips. “That’s a bad word, right, Mama?”
“That’s right, Navy Baby.”
My niece preens at her mother and then turns a scowl on me. Booping her nose, I don an equally serious expression as I squat down in front of her. “I’m sorry. I was not very nice to a girl when I was a little older than you.”
“That’s a bad choice.” She nods solemnly, so much older than her almost four years.
“It was a bad choice, and even though it’s been a long time, I want her to be my friend again.”
Bristol snorts but I ignore her. No doubt she can see right through my expressed desire to just be Cora’s friend.
But that is a problem for later.
So much later.
No doubt a whole lot of groveling would be involved, and damn if I wouldn’t love every second of showing Cora Delaney just how sorry I am. And maybe give me time to figure out what’s different about her besides the fact that she’s a badass businesswoman and stubborn as hell.
“Is she nice?” Navy asks, her little brows knitting together.
“She is.”
“She like cookies?” Navy asks hopefully, eyeing the ones on the counter that she and I had sliced from a tube and placed on the sheet to bake. They were a far cry from what Cora was no doubt serving.
“I’m sure she does. She owns the Taste of Magnolia and?—”
Navy squeals and grabs my face and squeezes it between her little palms. “The big fwowers! I like the smoothies .” She elongates the double o in smoothies, her smile stretched wide across her adorable face.
It doesn’t escape my notice that my niece knows exactly who Cora is or that my sister is suddenly really interested in the work in front of her.
Traitor.
“So is that a yes to helping me win back my…friend?”
“Yes!” Navy jumps up and down, her curls bouncing right along with her.
“All right, go grab your shoes.” She takes off down the hall, and I turn to look at my sister. “What can I bring you back?”
“Oh, hmm,” she says, pretending to mull it over. “I’m not sure what they have there.” Picking up the forgotten pen from the floor, I throw it back at her and she laughs. “The fish tacos with the pineapple salsa, and get a pint of the watermelon sorbet.”
“I can’t believe you.”
“What?” She points the pen at me. “You didn’t complain about the sorbet when I brought it home last week.”
I open my mouth and then close it as Navy comes bounding down the hall, her little purse secured across her body and her princess sunglasses on her face.
My chest squeezes at the sight, and I can’t help but scoop her up into my arms and press a kiss to the top of her head. This little girl is absolutely everything right in my world.
“Ready?” I croak out.
Navy nods and Bristol waves as I carry my favorite girl out the door and into the sunshine.