Page 12 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

Sorry – Justin Bieber

Nash

T he queue for the pickup line was the stuff of nightmares.

It stretched endlessly, packed with people who thought the rules didn’t apply to them just because they had an “important meeting” or had to make their nail appointment at Belinda’s Beauty Shop.

All it did was prolong the agony of sitting in a hot truck, thinking about the ranch work I could be doing.

At least it gave me time to catch up on Dougie’s emails about the lavender farm.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t included in the ranch deed, which meant Dad couldn’t sell it.

Dougie still had a few more things to check, but I trusted him.

He knew my father fought dirty. We needed everything locked down tight.

I’d die before I let Dad sell off Mom’s pride and joy.

A horn blared, jolting me. I jerked forward, realizing the line had moved. Muttering a curse, I eased up a few feet.

At another standstill, I scrolled through a few more boring emails, the one about the increase in cattle auction fees being the most mind-numbing.

When it was finally my turn at the front, some idiot honked again, scaring the hell out of me.

My phone shot out of my hand and landed somewhere under the pedals.

“Shit.” I bent down, fumbling around with one hand, my seatbelt strangling me.

The passenger door swung open.

"Hey, Daddy!" Bertie chirped.

"Hey, Munchkin." I straightened up, tossing my phone onto the console, and shoved the truck into drive.

"Did you see her?" she asked, bouncing in her seat. "Did you? Did you see her?"

"Who?" I glanced sideways, dodging a group of kids darting into a minivan.

"Miss. Gray! My new teacher! She was waiting with us in the line!" Bertie huffed out an exasperated breath. "I can't believe you missed her. She's so pretty, Daddy. She wore the cutest pink blouse and even her lipstick matched."

Smirking, I turned onto the main road. "You like her, then?"

"I love her. She's so nice and cool and pretty!"

I listened to her chatter about her new teacher, a warm feeling creeping through me. Bertie loved hard and fast, at full speed and every day she reminded me I wasn't completely screwing up this whole single dad thing. I wanted her to stay fearless, to love wildly, to be exactly who she was.

"You think maybe this Miss. Gray might get you to concentrate a little more in class?" I teased.

She slapped my arm with a little growl. "She's good, Daddy, but she's not that good."

I laughed loud enough to scare the birds off the fence posts.

And then, of course, she had to ruin it.

"Did you make the cupcakes for tomorrow?"

My stomach dropped.

"Not yet," I admitted, clearing my throat. "We need to hit the grocery store first and?—"

She flopped back in her seat, crossing her arms dramatically. "You don't even know what goes into cupcakes, do you?"

The betrayal in her voice killed me.

Pulling over onto the gravel shoulder, I grabbed my phone from the console.

"What are you doing?" she asked, twisting around like something out of The Exorcist.

"I'm Googling recipes. Then we're going to the store. And then I'm going to make you the best damn cupcakes Silver Peaks Elementary has ever seen."

She gave me a skeptical stare. "Oh dear. We are so doomed."

"Ta-da!" I stepped back from the kitchen counter and waved my hands grandly.

Thirty cupcakes sat there, half with chocolate sprinkles, half with rainbow. They weren’t Pinterest-worthy, but they were homemade. And I’d taste-tested one. It didn’t kill me. That counted as a win.

"I saved one for you to try," I told Bertie, nudging a sprinkle-covered one toward her.

She narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously. "You didn’t go buy them while I was out with Uncle Gunner, did you?"

"Bertie," I said, hand over my heart. "As if I would do such a thing."

"You would if you could."

She wasn't wrong.

"Just eat the cupcake."

She sniffed it like a little bloodhound, then, finally, took a bite. Two, actually and then it was gone.

"They'll do," she said loftily, before holding her arms out for me to lift her down from the counter.

I picked her up, savoring the weight of her against me, the way her arms wrapped tight around my neck and her legs dangled against my sides. She wasn’t a baby anymore, but for now, she still needed me. I breathed her in, holding onto that moment like a lifeline.

"I love you, Bertie," I whispered against her messy hair.

"Love you, too, Daddy," she said fiercely, squeezing me until her little body trembled with the effort. "Sorry I doubted you."

I shook my head. "It's okay, sweetheart. I doubted myself too."

She patted my chest like she was reassuring me. "You did good."

Setting her down, I ruffled her hair. "Go on. Go plan your outfit for tomorrow."

She patted my stomach as she went. "And you pick something nice to wear, Daddy. Miss. Gray’s really pretty. Uncle Wilder says your fun sacks will dry up if you don't have a playdate soon."

And then, humming "When You’re In Love," she skipped out of the kitchen.

I stood there for a moment, blinking, before turning back to the cupcakes.

Maybe coffee first.

I was pouring a cup when the door banged open and Gunner and Wilder stomped in.

"Fuck," Gunner groaned. "That was one long-ass day."

I checked the clock. "It’s five thirty. Hardly the Oregon Trail."

"Says the man who finished at three to…" Gunner peered over my shoulder. "Bake cupcakes?"

Wilder tried to swipe one off the counter, but I swatted his hand away.

"Hands off," I growled. "They're for Get To Know You Day."

“Are they still doing that?” Wider asked with a shudder. “I hated it, seeing as Dad never turned up.”

“Same.” Gunner’s exhale was full of sorrow and memories of empty promises. “He used to send me with packets of shop bought biscuits.”

Gunner dropped into a chair, smirking. "Shit, we're gonna have a lawsuit when you poison a class full of third graders."

"They're not that bad," I muttered, pouring mugs of coffee for all of us.

"And anyway, I was up at five, while you two were still dreaming about beer and boobs."

"I know," Wilder said with a grimace. "Bertie woke me up at six when she jumped on my nuts asking for cereal."

I laughed so hard I nearly spilled coffee.

"Maybe next time," I said, "you’ll remember to lock your door."

We passed around mugs and settled at the table, the easy rhythm of brotherhood falling over us.

Then Gunner dropped the bomb.

"Speaking of nuts, when's the last time you got laid, Nash?"

I nearly choked on my coffee.

"Don't tell me you don’t have time," Wilder added. "Bertie’s asleep by eight most nights. You could sneak out."

I glared at both of them. "I'm fine."

"You’re living like a damn monk."

I shrugged. "Maybe I’ve had my fill."

The truth, that no woman had measured up to Lily in ten long years, stayed locked in my chest.

I flicked Wilder’s chair leg, knocking it back onto four legs just as he was about to tip over.

"Fucker," he yelped, clutching the table.

"Serves you right," I said with a smirk. "Balance like a grown-up."

"You need to get laid," Gunner insisted. "Even I get more action than you and that’s saying something."

"Christ," I muttered, rubbing my jaw. "If I wanted this much judgment, I'd call Dad."

Bertie appeared then, hairbrush and band in hand, her serious little face determined.

"Daddy," she said, "you need to pick your outfit for tomorrow. And I need my hair braided."

I smiled and waved her over. "Come here, Munchkin."

She climbed into my lap, and while I smoothed her hair and braided it into a single, sleek plait, my brothers started snickering again.

"You know doing hair doesn’t get you out of tomorrow’s fashion crisis," Gunner teased.

"Yeah," Wilder added. "Gotta impress Miss. Gray."

I rolled my eyes.

Bertie beamed up at me. "Miss. Gray is so pretty, Daddy."

Wilder leaned in, grinning. "Oh yeah? What's she like?"

"She’s beautiful. And kind. And she's gonna love Daddy. And maybe," Bertie finished sweetly, "then he can have a playdate, and his fun sacks won't dry up."

I dropped my forehead onto the table.

God help me.