Page 2 of Sweetheart and the Grouch
“What on earth are you two doin’?” a deep grumbly voice demands.
Oh. Shit.
AJAX
For the vast majority of my thirty-five years on this earth, I’ve lived on the family land in the mountains surrounding Whisper Valley. And not once have I ever come across a woman lying in themiddle of the damn road,giggling while a little kid stands over her.
She must be high.
When I first spotted them as I was driving, I thought maybe the one on the ground was having a fit, so I slowed down to offer help. But when I got close enough to hear the laughter, I knew I was dealing with some sort of an unstable person. No one normal would ever be this stupid.
I lean out the window and frown. “What on earth are you two doin’?” I demand, causing the little girl to jump back and the crazy one to whip her head around as she rocks from side to side on top of a too-big-for-her hiking pack.
“She got stuck like a turtle,” the girl says, smiling just enough to show me she’s got crooked front teeth.
“I’m fine,” the one on the ground, who most definitelyisn’tfine, says. “I just overbalanced and tripped. All I have to do is…” She pauses and rocks her shoulders from side to side, getting absolutely nowhere.
“See?” the girl says. “A turtle.”
Releasing a slight grumble at this ridiculousness, I cut the engine and get out of my truck. “What are you even doing up here on foot, anyway?” I ask, walking over to the woman and grabbing hold of the straps around her shoulders. I use them like a handle to haul her up, and she shrieks at first, but then she seems to relax when I plant her back onto her feet and pull the bag from her back.
“Thanks. That thing is crazy heavy.” She rubs her neck and shoulders as she lets out a heavy breath, and I find my gaze lingering on her smooth skin. With her dark hair pulled into a haphazard style on the top of her head, a few dozen whisps of curls have fallen free to frame her ruddy, freckled face. The look conjures images of a Greek goddess on a warm day, and I feel my insides respond. But she seems young. Too young for the likes of me. I’m quick to shut that shit down and look away.
“You haven’t answered my question,” I say, tearing my eyes from her and looking to the girl instead. She’s as blonde as blonde can be. Her straight hair secured with mismatched hair ties on either side of her head. Hugging a threadbare stuffed animal against her neck, you’d think she was a kindergartener, but even though she’s small like one, there’s something about her features that tells me she’s a lot older. Maybe nine or ten? The older of the two seems around twenty at most.
“What question?” the woman asks innocently.
“What are a couple of kids doin’ sitting on a mountain road? And where’s your car?”
The oldest of the two juts her chin in the air. “We don’t have a car, and I’mnota kid.”
“That’sexactlywhat a kid would say,” I return with a smirk, laughing internally as she rolls her eyes. “And that still doesn’t tell me what you’re doin’ all the way up here alone.”
“Listen, mister. I’m thankful to you for helping me up and all, but I don’t owe you an explanation as to why I’m here or what I’m doing. I’m a grown-ass woman who can do as she pleases. So, if you don’t mind, my si—” She stops abruptly and presses her lips together before continuing, “Mydaughterand I have somewhere to be.”
“Yeah,” the little one says. “Ainsley is my mom.”
“You just call me Mom,” the one I now know as Ainsley hisses at the younger one.
“Daughter, huh?” I say, looking between the two. Besides the fact they bare zero family resemblance, the older one would have been a kid herself when this one was born. I’m not buying it.
“Yes. Mydaughter,” she insists. “I’m her mom.” The curvy brunette must see the disbelief in my expression because she pulls the little one closer to her side. I’m older than I look, you know. I’m twenty-five.”
“Twenty-five?” the girl stage whispers behind her hand.
“Sure you are… Ainsley was it?” I pull my cell from my pocket and shake my head. “I’ll just give the local sheriff a call and see what he thinks of all this.”
Her eyes go wide immediately. “What? No! You can’t call the cops. We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“For starters you’re trespassin’ on my family’s land.” She shakes her head at that. “And I don’t believe for a second that this kid belongs to you. You arenottwenty-five, and I didn’t miss the fact you almost called her your sister a moment ago.” Now she’s taking a step backward. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what the heck you two are really doing all the way up here alone, but I’m not the kind of man to walk away and leave two girls who are obviously in some sort of trouble on their own.”
“Fine!” she yells, throwing her hands out to the side before I hit the call button. “You’re right. She’s my sister, OK?”
“Where are your parents?”
“I’m an adult. I don’t need parents.”
“Barely,” I say. “What are you? Eighteen?”
