CHAPTER 1 #2
"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 gave Lynlee a wink. He looked at her sparkly dress. "You must be a princess."
Lynlee straightened, chin up. "I'm a fairy," she corrected him. "But I can bes a princess if you want."
Colter placed a hand dramatically over his heart. "What does that make me? 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 sound was pure and sharp, and she loved that he heard it.
Colter gave her an amused look through lashes that had no business being that thick. "A court jester?"
"'Cause yous funny." Lynlee nodded, fully confident in her assessment.
The tension broke enough for Sutton's shoulders to drop an inch. Her daughter, traitorous little delight that she was, kept working.
"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 exhaled and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was dangerously aware of Colter beside her, of her own racing pulse, 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. She should have redirected.
She should have been the responsible, disciplined parent who thought about numbers instead of emotions.
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, muscles tensed around restraint, 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 politics and world peace.
Lynlee stood on the bottom rack of the shopping cart, stretching on tiptoe as she reached her small 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. Lynlee giggled. Sutton's lungs stuttered.
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?
It hit her differently. Not the flashy, charming playboy everyone warned her about.
This was something quieter. Something steady.
Something real enough to snag her heartbeat and pull.
"What about your nanny?" he asked, and Sutton went stock still.
Her spine snapped straight. 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 at stake.
He 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. Always.
She watched as Colter looked for the nearest exit. His gaze flicked toward the end of the aisle, shoulders tensing like he wanted to bolt.
A familiar protectiveness snapped through her like wire pulled taut.
"So, about my number? Still interested?" she asked, the challenge landing flat and clear.
"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. Panic fluttered in her chest, thin and sharp. He might not want her number anymore. He might think twice now. He might vanish before she could learn anything she needed to know about him.
But what about Lynlee?
Would he want to know his daughter, or would he be one more person to let her little girl down?