Chapter 3
“Thanks so much, Cecelia. One of these days I’ll get my shit together and not have to lean on y’all so heavily.”
“Nonsense, that’s what family’s for.” Mrs. Andersen (or Cecelia as she insists I call her, having long given up on getting me to call her mom) graciously agreed to watch my daughter for the day. Again.
I love my daughter more than even I can comprehend, but never did I think I’d knock up a casual fling and then have the woman leave me with the child.
Now that I know Harper’s taken care of for the day, I better go check on Reid to see if he needs help with the morning chores.
Cecelia won’t let me pay her for her time, but lightening the load at the ranch is the least I can do. It’s a short trek from the main house over to the main stables, where I’m sure to find the boss man.
“About time you showed up, you lazy piece of shit,” Reid jokes, waving a filled pitchfork at me, mucking stalls first thing this morning.
“Shut the fuck up. You want help or not?”
“Get on with it,” Reid says, bemused.
I grab a pitchfork and go a stall down from him to muck it out. Together, we move down the row of stalls, getting them clean for the day.
“Harper with Mom?”
“Yea. I hate asking her for so much help. Who knew finding a competent fucking nanny would be this hard.”
It’s been damn near a year since I had reliable childcare. At this point, it seems like I’ve interviewed every Swiftwater resident over the age of eighteen for the job. Not one’s worked out.
“You had it made with Ms. Junie, that’s for sure.” I grunt in agreement.
Ms. Junie was a retired teacher from my days in school.
The town gossip-mill spread that Vanessa had bolted, and she showed up at the hardware store ready to help.
She swept baby Harper from the bassinet I had behind the counter, snagged my house keys from the till, and carried her like a precious treasure to the apartment above the store.
She and Harper were thick as thieves until she passed away last summer.
Harper was devastated. Ms. Junie was the closest to a mother figure she’d ever had.
So on top of my little girl grieving her nanny, she’s been shuffled around between everyone in the family for childcare and school drop-offs and pick-ups for a fucking year.
“Don’t bite my head off, but remind me why Meredith’s not an option?” he asks, damn well knowing why.
I don’t bother answering.
I lost both of my parents when Dad died.
My mother, Meredith, fell into a deep depression after Dad’s accident.
That depression quickly morphed into complete and utter disdain for me—his doppelg?nger.
She couldn’t bear even the sight of me, let alone my dedication to the store, which she blamed for everything wrong with her life.
Thank god my grandparents had the foresight to make the necessary arrangements to protect the store and keep it in their bloodline. The day I turned eighteen, I had full rights and control of Clark’s Hardware.
I was eleven when Dad died. I took care of myself after that. Meredith remarried a year after she was widowed and started a brand-new family. Olivia’s birth was one of the best days of my life. My little sister became my world, despite Meredith and her new husband pretending I didn’t exist.
Why the hell would I let the woman who abandoned me at eleven, have a relationship with my innocent daughter? Fuck that. She’s begged me over the years for a chance at being a grandmother. I’m not a forgiving person.
“Alright, alright. Damn, you don’t have to burn a hole through the side of my head,” Reid huffs, moving to the next stall.
James and I grew up thick as thieves, causing trouble all over town. Reid wasn’t far behind in age and tagged along 90 percent of the time. We got into so much fucking trouble.
The Andersens ranch became my second home after Dad died. I’d already spent a ton of time here growing up, but they went above and beyond for a snot-nosed grieving pre-teen.
Soon as we were old enough, Walter had us tacking up on our own and taking over regular ranch chores. He taught me alongside his three sons and didn’t treat me any different. I’ll never be able to pay them back for everything they did for me.
If they noticed my pants were ready for a flood, there’d be a stack of jeans waiting for me to take home.
I never complained. I kept my head down and worked hard, grateful to be part of the ranch, but sometimes in weak moments I’d wince when my feet were killing me because I’d outgrown my boots again.
A new pair of boots would be waiting for me before I ever would’ve dared to ask.
Soon enough, when Cecelia shopped for clothes for the boys, I was included equally.
I got new school clothes, ranch gear, sports equipment, hell, school supplies just like James, Reid, and Sam.
The whole family jokes I’m the fourth Andersen brother.
The youngest, Sam, was the best of all of us.
The reminder of his untimely passing stabs at my gut.
Cecelia and Walter saved me. The ranch saved me. I owe this family everything.
“You know we don’t mind pitching in to watch Harper. She’s family.”
Being the “fourth” Andersen brother made Harper an honorary Andersen as well. She has amazing pseudo-grandparents, two uncles, James and Reid, and two aunts, Olivia, and Reid’s wife, Izzy.
“I know, and I appreciate y’all. But the instability’s taking a toll on Harper. Not knowing who’s picking her up or taking her home’s uncomfortable for her, even if she’ll never admit it. She needs consistency. She’s coming up on her tenth birthday, she needs stability,” I explain.
I stab my pitchfork into the pile of soiled shavings and wipe my brow with the sleeve of my T-shirt.
“You just want to limit James’s access to sniffing around Liv,” Reid says. I growl in reply.
“Fuck off with that. He knows I keep my pistol loaded. I’ll kill him if he touches my sister.”
James might be a jokester, but he’s my best friend. He’d never actually make a move on Olivia, especially being thirteen years older than her.
Reid’s making a show of not looking at me. I don’t have capacity for this shit right now.
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know, man. Hope the universe drops a suitable nanny into my lap? I’m out of options.” I sit on a bale of hay, head in my hands. “The agency won’t send me any more candidates.”
Reid chuckles. “You’ve fired or scared off every nanny they’ve sent. Are you surprised that’s their stance?”
No. I’m not surprised. Irritated as shit is more like it.
“I already told you, I just need lucky number seven.” The stubble of my unshaven face rasps against my palms.
“A seventh nanny in a year is insane, Grey. You have to know that.” Of course I know that, asshole. “At this point you’d have an easier time hiring a manager for the hardware store and watching Harper after school yourself.”
There’s a select few I trust to watch my kid, and fewer to have access to my store.
That sounds fucked up, trusting more people with my kid than my store, but it’s not my livelihood I’m worried about.
It’s the favors, the files, the shit that doesn’t show up on the inventory list or tax returns.
Things that need to be guarded by a Clark, from the… other business dealings.
“If you’re not gonna help, get the hell out of here. You’re in my way,” Reid says, lacking any bite.
He’s right, I’m useless right now. Might as well head to the store and get my head on straight.
“You and Izzy gonna be able to get things set up this morning without me? Where is she anyway?” Usually, his wife’s out here with us bright and early; if not helping, then supervising with a hot drink.
“She ran to town for her dirty chai. Who knows what mischief she’s getting into.” The warmth in his voice grates on my nerves. All these loved up fools make me sick to my stomach.
“Alright. I’ll be back to pick up Harper before dinner.”
“You know that’s not going to fly. Mom’s going to hold Harper hostage and force you to stay for dinner.”
His raised eyebrow is more pronounced with his hair pushed out of his face.
I see him so often, the scars that mar his skin don’t register anymore.
But sometimes when he makes certain facial expressions, I notice how the right side of his mouth doesn’t raise as high, or his right eye droops slightly.
A dirt bike accident left Reid heavily scarred on the outside, and even deeper on the inside. He lost himself after the accident, becoming more reclusive as the years passed. After Sam died, we nearly lost Reid too.
Not sure I’ve ever, or would ever tell her, but I’m grateful to Izzy for bringing Reid back from the brink. Love’s not total bullshit, it just isn’t made for men like me.
“We’ll see.” I leave the barn without waiting for Reid’s response.
My truck fires up and I roll the windows down immediately, the summer morning already uncomfortably warm. A silent drive with fresh mountain air as my sole companion should clear my head.
The hardware store is my domain, the one place I have complete control—and I’m in need of a day with no surprises.
“Truck keys, please.” Izzy’s leaning on the front counter at the hardware store, hand outstretched like it’s a given I’m going to do whatever she says.
I stare blankly at her and go back to my paperwork.
“Truck keys, or house keys, Greyson. Your choice,” she sing-songs.
“What are you on about?”
“I need the car seat out of your truck, or the spare I know you keep upstairs.”
Harper and I live in the apartment above the store. The small space works just fine for the two of us, and the commute to her school is unbeatable; except for when I have to drive her to and from Lucky Spurs Ranch every day since I don’t have a goddamn nanny.
“Why? You and Reid have a kid I don’t know about?”
“You’re infuriating, you know that? Why do you have to be so difficult?” Izzy huffs. “Did you leave one with Cecelia if she wants to take Harper anywhere?”
Shit. No, I didn’t. I completely forgot this morning. She must’ve asked Izzy to come pick it up while she was in town.
I dig my keys from my front pocket and toss them in the air, which Izzy scrambles to catch.
“Thank you!” she sings, heading straight through the store to the back stairs like she owns the place.
She returns moments later with Harper’s old car seat; it’s a bit small for her, but it does in a pinch. The keys come flying at my face, and I snatch them midair and shove them back in my jeans.
“Bye, crabby pants!”
I bite my tongue because Reid will have my ass if I’m any more of a dick to his wife.
The store is slow during the weekdays, giving me ample opportunity for Clark’s other business ventures.
My laptop travels between three hidden biometric safes: home, work, and truck.
I get situated behind the counter and settle into the desk chair.
The computer turns on with my fingerprint, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the privacy screen.
If I move so much as fifteen-degrees off center, the screen contents blur enough to be unreadable from any distance.
Checking the time, I have plenty of time to fulfill some requested favors.
“Daddy! There’s a girl here! She’s my new best friend. Please can I come back tomorrow and the next day, please?” Harper jabbers so quickly her words run together.
“Woah, Harp. What are you on about?”
She takes an exaggerated deep breath and puts her hands on her hips, giving me a flash forward to her teen years.
“Daddy, just come meet my new friend.” Hands still on her hips, she turns and walks away from me deeper into the main house at the ranch.
I follow her through the family room, the kitchen, out onto the back patio.
Sure as shit, Harper’s lost in a fantastical imaginary world with a little girl who looks to be four or five. Her tumbleweed of chocolate brown hair directly contrasts Harper’s board-straight, glossy black hair.
My daughter is beautiful. Might be the only gift Vanessa bestowed upon her. I’m fucked when she gets to high school. May have to cash in some banked favors to get rid of the local boys who pay her too much attention.
Cecelia sits on the patio with a glass of iced tea, legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles.
“Who’s the munchkin?” I ask, sitting next to her on the weathered deck.
“That’s Everly. She spent the day with us gals.”
“Haven’t seen her around.” I’m mildly irritated she didn’t call or text to let me know another kid would be here. I don’t expose Harper to anyone I haven’t thoroughly vetted.
“Hmm.” Is all I get in reply. I suck my teeth, holding back from arguing.
The girls play, carefree as the wind. It’s nice to see Harper happy, without the tiny lines of stress that’ve been etched into her forehead lately.
Soft footsteps pad from behind us. I don’t bother turning around. From the sound of it, Izzy or Delilah’s coming to join us. Olivia walks faster on heavier feet.
“How was your nap, dear?” Cecelia asks, looking over her shoulder with a soft smile.
“Really nice,” an unfamiliar tinkling voice replies, sending goosebumps down my arms despite the August heat. I whip around to get eyes on the stranger.
Standing mere feet away is an apparition, an angel sent straight from the heavens. The most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen drops her head and cowers from my gaze. That doesn’t sit right with me. Not because I’m offended, but because someone put that fear in her.
I barely hear Cecelia through the ringing in my ears.
“Greyson, meet Mia.”