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“R enard, isn’t it your day off?” Saxon walked into the kitchen with a baby in his arms.

His new baby daughter.

The kid was a cutie and Renard felt a tug in the place that should have held his heart. There wasn’t one there, of course. And he wasn’t going to fall for this baby and her cute button nose and those big, blue eyes.

Nope.

Not happening.

It helped that she was crying. What was he going to do with a crying baby? She would just upset all of the customers.

“What are you doing with her in here?” he grumbled, walking over to Saxon.

“I’m trying to settle her,” Saxon replied as he started gently bouncing the baby. “My wife is exhausted.”

“It’s too loud in here for her. Too stimulating.”

“She’s fine,” Saxon told him. “It’s just gas, I think.”

“Oh for goodness’ sake.” He couldn’t take the noise anymore. How was a man supposed to think?

Reaching out, he grabbed her, holding her against his chest.

A soft burp escaped the baby and she instantly started to settle.

“How do you do that? Every time she’s upset and you touch her, she settles,” Saxon said with exasperation.

“She just knows I mean business. You’re too wishy-washy.”

Poor guy just wasn’t as good as him and it was time he figured that out.

“I am not wishy-washy. Now, give her back,” Saxon demanded.

“No. You had your chance. She’s mine now.” Renard turned away. “Jones! Cut those carrots smaller. And how is the gratin coming along?”

“Renard, you cannot keep my baby,” Saxon told him.

“Sure I can.”

“You just told me that it was too loud and stimulating in here,” Saxon said with exasperation.

“She doesn’t seem to know that. She’s fast asleep. She was probably just upset because she doesn’t have a name yet.”

“Lord give me strength.”

Renard didn’t know what he was asking for strength for. Probably to help him be less wishy-washy.

“When are you going to name her?” he demanded.

“When Aspen can decide on a name.”

“Why don’t you name her?” Renard asked.

“Because this should be a joint decision and right now Aspen is in a . . . she’s just not ready.”

He was not going to ask.

Wasn’t any of his business, but still . . .

“She got that depression women get after a baby?” he asked as he moved into the pantry.

“I don’t know,” Saxon said, looking pensive. “Maybe? I need to get her to Jenna, but she doesn’t want to leave the bed.”

“So get Jenna to come to her. Problem solved.”

“I think I will.”

“Well?” Renard demanded.

“Well what?” Saxon asked.

“Go do it now. What are you waiting for?”

“It’s Saturday. Jenna doesn’t work on a Saturday.”

“She’ll come if you ask her.”

Saxon nodded. It wasn’t like him to be so indecisive but he looked tired. “I’ll call her. Once you give me my daughter.”

“She’s happy here. Go do your shit and then come back to get her.”

“Are you sure?” Saxon asked.

“Go away.”

“Where is Malina?”

Saxon had hired a second chef so that Renard could take time off. Who the fuck had said he needed time off?

Not him.

Time off just meant time to think which was not something he wanted.

“Car broke down and she’s waiting for someone to give her a ride. Told her that it was a piece of shit.”

Saxon ran his hand over his face. “Is she quitting? She’s going to quit, isn’t she?”

“How the fuck do I know?” Renard retorted, walking back into the kitchen.

Shit. Evan was fucking everything up.

“Don’t swear in front of my daughter.”

Renard scoffed. “She’s two weeks old. She doesn’t know the word fuck.”

“And I don’t want her knowing it,” Saxon said firmly. “I do not want her first word to be fuck.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not going to be.”

“Because you’re going to stop swearing?” Saxon asked.

“Because her first word is gonna be ‘Renard.’ Now, go away and leave me to work and take care of your baby.”

Saxon shook his head but turned to leave. “I’ll come back for her in an hour.”

“You better!”

He waited until the other man was gone to whisper to the little one. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll find you a good name.”

* * *

Opal groaned. Rolling out of bed, she stumbled to the door.

Who the hell was knocking on her door at this time of morning? Were they mad? It was only . . . ten.

Fine. Okay. Maybe it wasn’t that early. But still, it was Saturday morning, people!

She opened the door and glared with one eye shut. The sun blasted her other retina making her regret not grabbing her sunglasses.

“What is it?” she snarled at the small woman standing on her porch.

“Well, I never! That is not acceptable attire to wear while answering the door!”

Great.

Mrs. Grackle stood there, scowling at her.

Her name wasn’t really Mrs. Grackle, it was Gingers. However, Opal thought she acted like a darn grackle. Always squawking about everything. She was the most annoying neighbor and there was nothing she loved more than to look down her nose at people.

Well, at Opal.

She’d made it very clear that she did not approve of Opal moving into the house across the road from hers.

Opal was used to people giving her weird looks. She knew she wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea and that was fine with her.

But it would be great if people could refrain from knocking on her door at ten on a Saturday morning just to look at her rudely.

Hmm. Could the Grackle have had something to do with her broken security light?

Nah. She was a pain in the butt, but she wouldn’t break other people’s stuff.

Although that reminded Opal that she needed to check the light today.

“Listen, lady, you knocked on my door and woke me up. Want me to be fully dressed? Come at a decent hour.” She glanced down at her silky pajama set. It was an oatmeal color with lace at her chest and on the sides of her thighs.

She thought she looked damn hot.

“It’s ten in the morning and some of us have been up for hours,” the older woman huffed.

“Yes, but some of us didn’t go to bed before the sun set.”

“No, I am well aware of that,” Mrs. Grackle replied, grasping her faux-leather brown handbag to her chest. She was wearing a brown blazer and brown skirt that finished part way down her calves.

She kind of looked like a giant poo.

But Opal was too classy to tell her that.

“Getting home at all hours, making lots of noise. This neighborhood used to be a quiet, respectable one.”

“That’s not what I heard,” she said. “I heard that Mrs. Easton liked to put on a good party.”

“Agnes was very social,” she said in a strange voice.

For a moment, Opal thought she appeared sad. Did she miss Mrs. Easton? Was that why she was being so rude to Opal? But why not just go visit her? Why torture Opal with early morning wakeups?

“Is there something you wanted, Mrs. Gingers?”

“Yes, to ask that you please be quieter at night. You woke me and Barney up and it took us forever to get to sleep again.”

Barney was her nephew who often visited her on the weekends. Why, Opal had no idea. Staying with the Grackle couldn’t be that much fun.

“Look, I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll try to be quieter.” Although she really didn’t think she’d been that loud in the first place. She shut the door and turned away.

Grumbling to herself, she headed toward her coffee pot to switch it on. She hadn’t gotten to sleep until around four a.m. Her brain had been too busy.

Opal wasn’t a great sleeper.

Mostly because she kept getting woken by fucking nightmares. And partially, because she always felt like she was on guard, waiting for something to happen.

So when a nightmare woke her at around three this morning, she’d decided to try removing some of the carpet in the spare bedroom instead of trying to get back to sleep.

Which had meant moving all the bedroom furniture out. Something that had seemed like a good idea at the time, but she was now regretting it as her body screamed in pain.

That bed had been really heavy and she hoped she hadn’t kept any of her other neighbors up. Not that Mrs. Grackle could have heard her from across the road.

Alec had told her that she could make whatever improvements she liked. Although he’d likely been thinking about painting walls, not that she’d rip out carpets.

You probably should have asked him first . . .

She walked into the spare bedroom and stared down at the mustard and burgundy colored carpet. She couldn’t deal with it any longer.

Maybe she’d take a shower and check the security light, then take a trip into town to see if she could get some equipment to help remove the carpet.

* * *

Well.

Fuck.

Opal stared up at the security light with a frown. The entire thing was smashed and there were plastic bits in the flowerbed and on the footpath.

How did that happen?

Maybe it was a child with a ball or a slingshot. Or maybe a bird.

But that feeling of dread in her gut told her that that wasn’t the case.

“Opal!”

She held in her groan. Just wonderful. Her day kept getting better and better.

She plastered on a smile and turned to wave at Barney.

Who the hell would name their kid Barney?

Someone who hated their kid, that was who.

Poor Barney had never had a chance, had he? He was born to parents who didn’t like him, gave him a terrible name, and he had an aunt like Mrs. Grackle.

But he was harmless and sweet so she tried to be patient and polite.

“Hi, Barney.”

He was here every weekend now, which is much more often than when she’d first moved in. She had a sneaking suspicion that Barney might have a small crush on her.

Opal was trying her best to deter him without being a bitch, but when he was here, he seemed to always be around, watching her, talking to her.

“I got here last night,” Barney replied, rubbing his hand through his thinning hair. She didn’t know his age, but he looked to be in his early-to-mid-thirties. “Aunt Grace needs some help with her washing machine.”

Hmm.

“You’re so nice to come help her.”

Barney shrugged. “It’s the least I could do. She helped raise me as a kid. I was sorry that I couldn’t make your set last night at Dirty Delights.”

Unease filled her. “How did you know I was singing at Dirty Delights last night?”

She didn’t let Devon advertise when she was going to be there. Although it was pretty much every Friday night.

“Oh, Aunt Grace told me that she saw you leave after dinnertime and I just figured that was what you were doing. Sorry if I had that wrong.”

Shoot.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just a bit touchy this morning. Your aunt woke me up.”

Barney grimaced. “Yeah, she told me. Sorry about that.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.”

He said nothing. Just stood there, staring at her.

Sooo.

This was awkward.

Opal cleared her throat.

Was he even breathing? His face seemed to be going purple.

“Barney? Are you all right?” she asked with concern.

“Do you need help with anything?” Barney finally asked, his breath coming out in a whoosh. He pulled out a piece of cloth and patted his forehead.

Great. Now he was sweating.

“Oh no, I’m fi?—”

“Barney!” Mrs. Grackle yelled. “I need your help.”

“I’ll be in there soon! I’m talking to Opal!” he yelled back.

She winced. The Grackle wouldn’t appreciate him putting her off so he could fraternize with the enemy.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Opal told him as Mrs. Grackle started down the path from her front door.

Barney scowled before wiping that look off his face. “I can do what I like when I like.”

There was a sullen note to his voice that was really not attractive. Then Mrs. Grackle was on the footpath next to him.

“Barney! What are you doing out here talking to this . . . to this . . .”

“To this what, Mrs. G?” she asked seriously.

“Do not call me that. It’s disrespectful and rude.” She sniffed. “Of course, I don’t know why I expected anything different from you.”

Wow.

The nastiness just didn’t stop with this woman.

“Aunt Grace! Don’t speak to Opal like that.”

That was surprising. She’d never seen Barney stick up for himself and she hadn’t expected that he’d do it for her. It made her like him far more than she’d expected to.

“Do not tell me how to speak to her,” his aunt countered. “I’ll speak to her how I like. And I won’t have either of you disrespect me. After all I’ve done for you, Barney!”

His shoulders slumped and Opal found herself feeling kind of sorry for him.

He’d tried his best to stick up for her, but his aunt was a formidable woman and Barney crumpled more easily than a chocolate chip cookie.

Turning, he followed his aunt back inside. But he briefly glanced over his shoulder at Opal. She waved at him and he grinned.

God.

Her morning had started off bad and really hadn’t gotten any better. Surely it could only go up from here?