Page 7

“Yummy!” Sev yells with no volume control, and her eyes glued to my phone where she’s watchingHocus Pocusfor the third time this week. Which explains the laughing. “I love getti!”
I eye Camdyn in the mirror, a warning to shut the fuck up and not start a fight with her baby sister. Instead, she sighs and rolls down the window, letting in a blast of cold air into the truck. “Roll that up.”
“It’s cold!” Sev whines.
“It’s too hot in here.” As a lover of the cold, Camdyn refuses, dancing her stuffed bear along the edge of the window. I can see from the side mirror it's dangerously close to falling out the window.
“You drop that out the window, and I’m not going back to get it this time,” I warn.
Just as I say that, the wind blows it right out of her hand and into the field we’re passing. Our eyes meet. “Get that words out of your head,” she snaps, eyebrows bunched together in pissed-off five-year-old attitude.
I fight off laughter, knowing it will only spark a wildfire in her. “What words?”
“I told you so,” she mocks, scrunching her nose.
I may have said that a time or two.
Shaking my head, I blow out a breath. “I told you if you hung it out the window again, I wasn’t going back to get it.”
She scowls at me the rest of the drive to her school and refuses to get out of the truck.
I drop my eyes to my busted-up knuckles as I grip the wheel, trying not to lose my cool. Turning to face her, I blink slowly, waiting for her to unbuckle.
Sev kicks the back of my seat. “I’m hungry.”
Sev is an endless pit when it comes to eating. She’s tiny as all get out but eats constantly. I grab her foot. “Stop kicking the seat.” I look to Camdyn. “You got a problem, little girl?”
“I do.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s you. I’m not little. I’m five.”
“You’re still little, girl.” I raise an eyebrow, my jaw working back and forth. Sighing, I adjusted my hat and shake my head. “I told you not to put that damn bear out the window. How is it my fault?”
“You didn’t turn back.” Tears well up in her eyes, and I have to look away. “I won’t be happy until you get it back,” she adds, arms crossed over her chest. This kid, she’s the grudge holder. I think I explained that, but she’s going to be pissed at me all day, no matter what I do.
“No. I’m not going back.” I motion toward the door, trying to get Sev to stop kicking me in the process. “Sevyn Rae Grady, you better knock that shit off.”
Her eyes widen. I used her full name, and she knows I mean business. At least she stops kicking me.
“Now, get out of the truck, Camdyn. You’re late.” I reach for the door handle, a blast of frigid air smacking me in the face the instant it’s open. My eyes water, a chill working through me. Around the front, I make my way over to the side of the truck where Camdyn is on. Yanking it open, she’s there, still pouting.
I laugh. She’s too cute when she does this. Hell, even Sev is looking at her like she needs to get over it.
“Stop laughing at me,” Camdyn snaps, finally unbuckling herself and reaching for her coat and backpack. “I’m angry.”
Twisting the handle on the door, I roll up her window. “I can see that.” I pick her up and help her out of the truck.
Squirming, she wiggles her way out of my arms and stomps toward her preschool. Standing at the front of the truck, I wave to Edie, her teacher, who meets her at the door. It’s a house, not technically a school, but out in the country, it’s what we have.
With her coat slung over her shoulder and her backpack dragging behind her, Camdyn doesn’t look back at me, won’t say goodbye, and if she could flip me off, I bet she would.
“Sissy so mad at you, Daddy,” Sev notes when I start the truck up again.
Blowing into my hands, I rub them together. “She’s always mad at me.” Camdyn, she’s a lot like Tara. Nothing I do makes her happy. I fear that kid becoming a teenager.
Sev kicks my seat again. “I’m hungry.” She has no patience. I have no idea where she gets that from.
“You keep kicking my seat and you’re going to be more than hungry,” I warn. I’ve yet to spank the girls, but it’s threatened daily.
After we drop Camdyn off, I head to the shop but stop by the bar to get coffee. My aunt Tenille, or Tilly as we call her, owns a bar near the ranch. Another family-owned place that she took over when my grandparents passed away.