Ah, shit. Wasn’t he the big asshole?
He peered down at the girl, noting the way she clung to Audrey’s leg like she was about to be dragged off for surgery. But instead of prying Piper away, Audrey embraced her, cupping one hand over the girl’s head and the other running in circles over her back. They were good together, the two of them. Cameron suspected they needed each other, possibly filling a void that nothing else could reach.
“The football team’s having a pancake breakfast on Saturday,” he blurted out. First he hadn’t wanted Piper in his life, and now he was inviting them to team functions? “It’s a fund-raiser,” he added.
Cameron waited for a reply, kicking himself for tossing it out so casually. Then Audrey smirked, and he got the impression she was laughing at him. “Are you asking if we’d like to come?”
Yeah, Cameron, are you?
“It would be a good way for Piper to see what I do,” he answered, because that sounded way more reasonable, as though the initial invitation had more to do with helping Piper’s transition. Which was strange, because he still wasn’t sure he wanted the girl here.
Audrey looked down at Piper. “What d’you think? Want to go have some pancakes on Saturday?”
Piper looked up at Audrey, then switched her gaze to Cameron. “Can they make them into a Mickey Mouse shape?”
Cameron held back a grin, thinking about the reaction he’d get by asking tough seventeen-year-olds to put Mickey Mouse ears on pancakes. “I’m sure we can make that happen.”
Piper offered a shy smile, cutting through the brash exterior he’d been throwing out since meeting them. How could one girl make him question his own solitary existence? And how had his life changed so much in twenty-four hours?
“I don’t want these anymore.”
Audrey paused in the act of dialing a number on her cell phone and glanced at Piper. For lunch she’d asked for chicken nuggets, so Audrey had hastily thrown a handful on a plate while she’d been on the phone with the elementary school. Piper was supposed to start kindergarten this year, and school had been in session for almost a month already. Instinctively she knew inquiring about school was something Cameron would overlook, so she’d taken the initiative.
Audrey set the cell phone on the kitchen counter. “But that’s what you asked for.”
Piper glanced at the plate and spun back and forth on the barstool. “I don’t like them anymore.”
Audrey bit back a groan and reminded herself that Piper was a fickle six-year-old who constantly changed her mind. But ever since Dianna passed away, Piper’s indecisiveness had worsened, especially when it came to food. She’d ask for a corn dog, take one bite, then ask for something else. It had been a learning process for Audrey, one that was rife with frustration and lots of designer label counting.
“So what would you like?” she asked the girl.
Piper thought for a moment. “Popsicles,” she announced.
In the two days they’d been there, Audrey had unpacked everything and run to the store for necessities. Unfortunately, Popsicles weren’t a necessity.
“We don’t have any Popsicles,” she told the girl.
Piper dragged Jellybean off the bar top and hugged it close. “Do we have any ice cream?”
They did, but she wasn’t about to tell her that. “You can’t have ice cream for lunch.”
“What can I have?” Piper asked with a blink of her big green eyes.
Audrey pointed to the plate of food. “You can have the nuggets you asked for.”
Piper stuck out her bottom lip and pushed the nuggets around the plate.
“You just had nuggets a few nights ago,” Audrey reminded her. “What happened?”
“I just don’t like ’em anymore.”
Audrey picked up her cell again and rounded the bar top. She dropped a kiss on Piper’s clean, blond hair. “Well, that’s what we have so if you’re hungry enough you’ll eat them.”
Piper bounced in her seat. “Jellybean’s gonna eat them instead.”
Whatever. Usually what Jellybean ate, Piper ended up eating too, so Audrey wasn’t going to argue. She left the girl to her food and walked toward the front door. When she’d gotten up that morning, she’d propped the door open to let in the early-morning cool breeze. The brisk wind had felt good on her face, reminding her of how much she loved Colorado. The sky was clear and the mountain peaks soared around them. She’d reveled in the quiet of the day with a cup of coffee in her hand and the birds chirping around her. With Piper still asleep, she’d taken advantage and sat on the porch steps, making sure to avoid the bottom one since it had a broken board.
But when she’d sat, she’d noticed a yellow piece of paper stuck to the wood, flapping in the breeze. Audrey had set her mug down and glanced at the Post-it note.
Fixed the porch step this morning. C.
Just looking at Cameron’s handwriting had brought all sorts of tingles along her spine. Even now, hours after finding his note, Audrey stole a glance at his house. She knew he wasn’t home, but that didn’t stop her from taking in every detail of his property. The craftstman-syle log home was beautiful with a manicured lawn full of trees and flowers. The guesthouse sat behind the home, giving her a perfect view of the back porch, kitchen window, and sliding glass door. She and Piper hadn’t seen that much of Cameron since they’d arrived two days ago. He’d been gone all day yesterday and hadn’t arrived home until almost seven. Then he’d been up and out the door by the time she’d gotten out of bed.
But not before fixing the broken step.
It was such a minor thing, repairing a piece of wood, but Audrey felt a tiny flutter in her belly. He could have left the step the way it was.
