Page 92 of Every Little Kiss
CHAPTER 18
“Sit still,” Emma said a few days later, waving a metallic-pink hair-chalk pen in Ford’s direction. “One more color and then I’ll put it back to normal.”
And because normal sounded like something Ford could get behind, and his heels were killing his feet, he shifted his leopard-print tutu and took a seat. His butt squeezed into the tot-size barber chair, Ford looked in the mirror at his metallic-purple-and-pink-streaked tips and cringed. “Are you sure this will wash out?”
“Uh-huh. And it turns the bathwater sparkly pink,” Emma said, as if that was an added bonus to letting a six-year-old color your hair.
“All right, just don’t get it in my eyes this time.”
“I won’t!” Emma said, giving not one but three more strokes of the hair chalk. “Daddy, Ford’s almost ready for his family picture with Bullseye. He just needs his lips glossed.”
Bullseye had gotten off light, as far as Ford was concerned. Dressed in a pink tutu with a matching bow behind his ear, he was sound asleep by the couch.
“I’ve got my camera ready to go,” Harris said, grinning at Ford from the safety of the couch. He lifted a beer, then gave a two-fingered salute, just in case Ford wasn’t aware of just who was the village idiot.
Ford had a salute of his own, but since it only required one finger and there were kids present, he said, “One photo makes it around the office and I will tell everyone about the time you thought Bullseye was the barfly from the night before.”
“What’s a barfly, Daddy?”
“Kind of like a horsefly, only harder to get rid of,” Harris said, shooting Ford a look. Ford just smiled. “Hey, pumpkin, why don’t you go and get that red lipstick upstairs.”
Emma’s eyes went owl-like. “The one that comed with my Barbie and you said I can’t use in the house?”
“That’s the one.” This time Harris grinned. “I think it would go great with Ford’s hair color.”
With a squeal of delight, Emma took off, her feet sounding like a stampede as she raced up the stairs.
“You’re an asshole,” Ford said when she was out of range.
“Says the guy who’s trying to dump his responsibilities on me.” Harris leaned back into the couch, taking way too much pleasure in Ford’s current situation.
It had been four days since Liv had escorted him out of her house, and still no word. She hadn’t returned his calls, his texts, and was even a no-show for a meeting about Wagon Days.
“I’m not dumping. I’m just trying to make this easier for everyone involved,” Ford said. “I’m still doing all the work—I just won’t be here for the event.”
It had taken Ford a whole ten minutes to realize that staying in town would only make it harder on Liv. Even less time to figure out he’d blown any shot he’d had at a relationship with her. He’d known that the second he saw the anguish on her face. So he’d called his boss and asked if he could move the certification up a few weeks and return to Reno early.
“Because you’ll be licking your wounds in the mountains while Liv is down here facing everything head-on,” Harris said.
Yeah, that too. He’d hurt her. Badly. She’d finally opened herself up to the idea of more, and Ford had given her more of the same.
“Or you could stay, help her,” Harris offered.
Ford had shown up at Harris’s house to talk to him about the early transfer back to Reno. He was surprised Harris hadn’t grilled him about his reasons for leaving. Or his situation with Liv. He’d just said that if Ford played dress-up with Emma, then he’d sign off on the transfer. Ford figured either Liv hadn’t told anyone what had gone down, or Harris finally wanted him gone. Only Harris loved to ride Ford’s ass—especially when he’d screwed the pooch. So when Harris sat forward, his expression dialed to Dirty Harry, Ford knew he’d just been waiting.
“Last time I helped her she ended up slamming the door in my face and crying herself to sleep.” He shrugged, but even that hurt. “Plus, I live in Reno. She lives here.”
“Thanks for that nice geography lesson. With logic like that, you couldn’t think yourself out of a fucking paper bag,” Harris said.
“She asked me to leave. I’m leaving. End of story.” Ford rubbed his hand over his chest, trying to ease the raw ache that had been gnawing at him. It didn’t help.
“And when exactly did she ask you to leave? Before you told her you loved her or after?” Harris snapped his fingers. “Oh, wait, I remember. It was when you decided to ignore the single-mom code and sweet-talk your way into her panties instead of straight-talk your way into her circle of trust.”
“Again, these pep talks are always a highlight,” Ford said in a tone that would have a smart man shutting up.
Harris was not a smart man. In fact, he was as stupid as they came, because he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and said, “Well then, let me be the one to point out the big fucking fact that you seem to be missing. You don’t want it to be the end.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want!” Ford stood. Arguing while sitting in a tiny chair with pink tips felt as ridiculous as the idea of Liv settling for weekends and rotating holidays. She’d done that before, and he didn’t want to put her through that again. “She deserves more.”
