Chapter 1 #2
Lynlee presented an unapologetic palm in demand of payment the way some kids demanded snacks—firm and absolutely certain the world would comply.
Sutton dug through her purse, cheeks still burning, and handed over a dollar. Lynlee dropped it into the little glittery coin pouch she carried like a tax collector.
Colter held out his hand.
Sutton stared incredulously. "What?"
"Where's my dollar?" he asked, two double-barreled dimples appearing out of nowhere.
"For what?"
"Calling me a bad name."
"It's only fair," Lynlee said, backing him like a tiny mafia boss.
"What she said." Colter looked at Lynlee’s sparkly dress and gave her a wink. "You must be a princess."
Lynlee straightened, chin up. "I'm a fairy," she corrected him. "But yous can bes a princess if you wants."
Colter placed a hand dramatically over his heart. "What about a prince?"
Lynlee studied him for a long moment, then shook her head with decisiveness. "Yous a court jester."
A laugh burst out of Sutton's chest before she could choke it down. She slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. The sharp sound gave off an unapologetic vibe, and she loved that he heard it.
Colter gave her an amused look. "A court jester?"
"'Cause yous funny."
The tension broke enough for Sutton's shoulders to drop an inch. Her daughter, traitorous little delight that she was, kept working her magic to get her way.
"Can I gets dis?" Lynlee asked, batting those impossible lashes with the precision of a tiny schemer. Then she held out a sticker sheet of fake mustaches.
Sutton pinched the bridge of her nose. She was dangerously aware of Colter beside her, aware of her own racing pulse, and of how quickly this man rattled the ground under her feet. She gave a single nod, because holding the line felt pointless.
Somewhere deep in her chest, something trembled—the beginning of a future she had not prepared for, staring her in the face in the middle of the tampon aisle.
Sutton did some quick mental gymnastics.
Her budget was tighter than a drum, leaving zero wiggle room for extras.
Groceries were already pushing it, and the clinic paycheck would not hit for another week.
She should have said no outright and moved on.
She should have been the responsible, disciplined parent who thought about numbers instead of emotions.
Temporary, she reminded herself—the apartment, the budget, the scrambling. The plan was to survive this year, finish her intern hours, get vet tech licensed, and eventually, when Lynlee was all grown and on her own, go back to med school to become a pediatrician.
Maybe even open a small practice in a rural town, where she knew every patient by name and the waiting room smelled like crayons. She had a whole vision board for it that she'd made at two a.m. after Lynlee's first fever, which was either proof of ambition or sleep deprivation.
And yet, seeing her daughter's hopeful little eyes fixed on a three-dollar toy? That single, earnest look had her heart's resolve melting faster than ice in the Montana sun.
"If you get that, then you have to put back the sugar pops."
She waited as Lynlee weighed her options. Her daughter tilted her head, tongue poking at the corner of her mouth the way she always did when she worked through big decisions. As if cereal versus mustaches ranked right up there with global hunger and world peace.
Lynlee stood on the bottom rack of the shopping cart, stretching on tiptoe as she reached her tiny hand into the basket and plucked out the sugar pops. She placed the box into Sutton's palm with solemn ceremony.
"Good choice," Colter said.
Sutton's pulse hiccupped. God help her, she should not like his voice that much.
"Yous gots to wear one." Lynlee pulled off the French swirly mustache.
Sutton opened her mouth to intervene, but Colter bent at the waist before she could form a protest, letting Lynlee press the sticky mustache above his upper lip.
He wiggled his nose and said “Wee wee, mademoiselle,” in the worst French accent ever made, but Lynlee giggled with her whole body. Sutton’s body? That was quivering and entirely unhelpful.
Maybe she'd been a little hasty in writing him off.
Seeing him kneel down, all careful gestures and soft laughter, talking to her daughter like she was the most important person in the world hit her differently than expected.
Not in the flashy, charming playboy way everyone warned her about.
This was something quieter and real enough to snag her heart and pull.
"What about your nanny?" he asked looking up, and Sutton went stock-still.
Her spine snapped straight, and the temperature in her veins dropped. She had heard that assumption a hundred times, usually accompanied by dismissive smiles or judgmental glances. She was used to correcting strangers. Nanny? Aunt? Babysitter? Surely not the mother.
But with him standing in front of her, that sting burned deeper. There was more at stake this time. Her daughter's entire future was on the line.
Colter straightened and turned toward her. The shift in his expression was immediate. Gone was the easy-going charm and in its place was a flash of recognition, confusion, a tightening around the eyes that looked dangerously close to panic.
"This is Lynlee, my daughter," she said, putting an emphasis on the last two words. She felt the declaration resonate in her rib cage. If he had mistaken her role in Lynlee's life, she would correct it with pride. She was a mother first and foremost.
Sutton watched as Colter looked for the nearest exit, his gaze flickering toward the end of the aisle, feet shifting like he wanted to bolt.
A familiar protectiveness snapped through her like wire pulled taut.
"So, about my number? Still interested?" she asked, with challenge in her voice incase there were any doubts still lingering.
"What? Oh, yeah." He held out his phone.
Her eyebrows lifted in amused disbelief, but she took it anyway. Sutton punched in her digits and handed it back. "Can't wait for that call."
She fixed him with a steady, challenging gaze, daring him to call her bluff. A sharp panic fluttered in her chest. She kept her face carefully neutral anyway. He might not want her number anymore. Even worse, he might vanish before she could learn everything she needed to know about him.
And what about Lynlee?
Would he want to know his daughter? Or would he be one more person in a long line of disappointments for her little girl?