Page 38 of Milk & Cookie

“At least I’m not seventy-something, like Paul was,” I argue. “I don’t have a comeback for the size thing. Your ratio seems pretty accurate. I am big. I can’t help that. But if Frederica’s not bothered by it, I don’t see why it should matter to you. It can be quite helpful in certain situations.” I nudge the huge urn with my foot as proof of what I can do that others cannot.

“I know all about situations in which brute strength is essential.” She tilts her head toward the light and traces a faded scar along her jaw — her crooked jaw.

Careful not to let my anger at her injury curl my hands into fists, I intentionally stretch and wiggle my fingers. “I’m sorry for your experience. I would never?—”

“That’s what they always say.” Gail squints at me, her eyes beady and sharp. “There’s no way we’ll ever trust you.”

“I’ll earn it. And I will keep you all safe.”

“From yourself?”

“You aren’t in any danger from me,” I assure her — not that my assurances seem to be making any difference. “How can I prove to you that I’m harmless, if you remain unconvinced of it, despite all absence of harm?”

She nods. “Exactly. You’re a little dim, but you’re getting it now. I’ll say it again for you, more slowly. We will never trust another man.”

“Then that’s the first thing I’ll have to remedy.” And I have no idea how to do that. “May I please have all the remaining garlic twists, two cream buns, and two of the larger cookies?” She looks at me as if I’m asking for half the store, and I sort of am, I guess. “Food helps me think,” I say with a shrug, as I put a fifty-dollar bill on the counter.

Gail glares at the money, and then at me. “You think you can buy my approval?”

On the verge of exasperation, I do my best not to roll my eyes. “No, Gail. I just eat a lot, and Fred’s a damned fine baker. I can’t get enough, and when I get a chance, I’m going to marry her.”

She snorts and her follow-up laugh is cold. Almost cruel. “She doesn’t believe in marriage, you big fool.”

“She doesn’t?” I hate how surprised and pathetically heartbroken I sound. I also hate that Gail seems emboldened by it.

She stands taller and steps closer, like a clear victor coming to deliver the final blow. “You obviously don’t know her well enough, Vincent. But I do. I know exactly how wonderful and magnetic that girl is. She draws male gazes like nobody else and they always desire to master her free spirit. I’ve protected her from every kind of man you can imagine for longer than you’d care to think about. Don’t take it personally that I despise intimidatingly large men, wanting to hang around and fuck my daughter. Just know that she isn’t for you, and you aren’t welcome in our family. We have a male-less system that works, so go swing your big dick in another direction.”

My mind sorts through her words at lightning speed. Protecting Freddie from men? For longer than…?

“I need a list.” I didn’t mean to growl the words. I’m really going to have to work on that, because Gail looks far less fierce than she did a second ago.

She holds a hand to her chest and looks almost fragile. “Excuse me?”

“A list,” I say more softly and with greater attention to my tone. “Every man who ever thought to harm or touch either of you against your wishes. I want them all, but I’ll prioritize the worst. Is her father as much of a risk of coming after you both as your fear this morning implied?”

She looks me over, easing away. “Why?”

“Because I specialize in tracking perpetrators of crimes against vulnerable people — particularly women and children — and I would like to pursue said predators and ensure that all risk is nullified and adequate justice is delivered. It’s my job. As an investigator, and as the man in love with you daughter.”

Her hands tremble a little, and she takes another step back. “Please stay away from my daughter.”

I drag my hands down my face and nod. “Gail, I understand your wariness. I’m male. I’m big. I’m a stranger in town. These are scary things for anyone, let alone someone with your traumatic experiences. You love your daughter, and you want what’s best for her and her family.” I hold my hand over my heart. “I want that too. If I’m ever not the best thing for Fred, I promise you, I will walk away. But I don’t see how it wouldn’t be in her best interest to have someone who loves and adores her dedicate his life to protecting her and providing her with everything she could hope to dream of, so I don’t like your chances of me disappearing anytime soon.”

Gale’s expression turns thoughtful. “Well, you’ll be absent for quite some time, if you dedicate as much time to tracking down predators and delivering justice as you do to seducing my child.” She pulls a pen and notepad out from under the counter and rips the grocery list off the top. “It’s a long list. It’ll keep you busy for a while. We’ve moved around a lot, so these men are scattered across the country. I’ll give you the states they’re most likely in, but they’ve undoubtedly moved along. Skipping town is all the rage for criminals, as you must know. Good luck on your travels, Mr. Monaghan. I doubt you’ll have time to return here, but we’ll sleep easier, knowing you’ve dedicated your life to protecting Frederica, as you so desire.”

She tears off the notepaper and hands it to me.

I stare at the many outlandish or overly-common names she’s written. “I’m assuming most, if not all, of these names are bogus, and you’re seeking to keep me occupied elsewhere?”

“Oh no.” She gives me a flat stare. “They’re all very real names. You’ll find them in a number of phone directories. This man here is very nasty and has evaded justice so many times you wouldn’t believe.” She reaches across, to tap the tip of her pen at the name John Smith. “A real Houdini, that one. Good luck with your research. Frederica tells me you’re good at it — another reason I’m disconcerted by your presence. It doesn’t seem right to investigate the woman you claim to love. It’s a form of stalking, if you ask me. A glaring sign of clear and present danger. Good day.”

I meet her challenging stare, and then give up with a sigh. There’s no point in trying to sway her further today. I’ll have to chalk it up to a work in progress and do more research — which I’m sure will be used against me again at some stage. I bend my knees and pick up the big urn. “I wasn’t stalking her. I only wanted a better idea of her situation, so I wouldn’t get my heart broken.”

“And luckily for you, your research has finally proved you have no chance with her, so if you leave now, you should avoid any heartbreak,” she says, waving me out.

She locks the door after I exit, and waits on the other side of the window with her arms folded until I walk away.

I do so. Slowly and awkwardly.

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