Page 9 of When We Met

Ah, yes. Alexus. The chick my aunt set me up with a couple months back. “She tied me to a goddamn chair and left my ass, that’s why.” I don’t like to remember that night and actively try to push it out of my memory. Unfortunately for me, when your friend comes into the shop and finds you tied to a chair, half-naked, you remember it.

“She said she had an emergency.”

“Uh-huh. Not buying it.” I step toward the doors of the bar, lifting my coffee in one hand and holding Sev with the other. “Do me a favor. Stop setting me up. I don’t want to date.”

“You’re twenty-four, with two kids, you should date.”

I nod toward Sev. “The two kids part is why I don’t date.”

“Barron….”

“Tilly,” I mock. My aunt means well, but she gossips too fucking much. Do not tell her anything unless you want everyone from your vet to your dentist knowing by noon. “See you at dinner on Sunday.”

“Oh, I know. You should ask out Serenity.”

I make a face. I’m sure it’s a disgusted one. “She’s seventeen.”

“Oh, well, she’ll be eighteen soon.”

I roll my eyes. “She’s unfuckably nice.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you don’t know, I’m not explaining it. I’m late.”

Story of my life. I have two little girls. I’m late to everything, all the time.

“Bye, Sev!” Tilly yells as I walk toward the door.

Sev waves to her, more concerned with the dog. “Bye, Lucifer.”

If you hadn’t guessed, the black lab that’s a permanent fixture at the bar, Sev renamed him.

Inside my truck again, I start it after buckling Sev in her seat. Holding my steamy coffee in hand, I think about wishing I could go back to bed, and Morgan. Why would he have left with Lillian? He’s fucking married. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s cheating. You get married, you made a vow, for better or worse. Morgan believes that shit, too, so why? Why would he have done that?

Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he drove her home and that was it. Maybe… I don’t care.

Unfortunately for me, Lillian works at the shop. Bishop Repair is my dad’s business he gave to me when he realized the ranch was too much to handle doing both. I’ve been working there since I was fourteen and love turning wrenches.

What I don’t love is drama, and it always seems to find me.

“Play dat song I like!” Sev yells, motioning to my phone center console.

“What song?”

“Dat one I likes.”

I smile. She loves “Tennessee Whiskey” by Chris Stapleton. Don’t know why because she thinks Marilyn Manson is the greatest singer in the world, but I’ll take anything over “Beautiful People” played so loud my ears ring later.

It’s five miles back to the shop, and for those fifteen minutes it takes us, I sing to my little girl.

Sev sways in her seat. “You’d the best singer, Daddy.”

I wink at her in the mirror. I can carry a tune, but I wouldn’t say I could have made a living out of it. Okay, I might have been able to be a country singer, but my life is on a ranch with two little girls who call me daddy and make me chase monsters for them. “I love you, darlin’.”

Her smile widens, my name for her and her sister always evoking that cheeky smile and the reason why this country town will always keep me here, regardless of the small-town rumors.

At the shop, Sev takes off into the office where she hangs out during the day. I don’t have a babysitter for them, and honestly, I like having them where I know what they’re doing.

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