The prick who got out of the driver side and rounded the hood had to have been the ex, and I saw it then, clear as day, he was missing what he’d thrown away, no doubt about it. It was all but chiseled into his face, even as his new bitch sat in the front seat, scowling at Hayden and her girl.
I hated the jackass on sight.
Moving toward the fence, I got my first up-close look at the little girl, and if the hair hadn’t made it obvious who she belonged to, the blue gemstone eyes certainly did. She looked like a mini-Hayden, and I thought she was cute as hell. Especially when I caught a glimpse of her outfit.
Her black long-sleeved tee had a skull and crossbones on the front made out of bright pink sequins. She wore a big, puffy tutu in the exact same pink, and beneath that were black leggings, and shiny combat boots that looked like they were covered in pink glitter. She looked part diva, part princess, part rocker, and all wild with her wavy red hair hanging free, all the way down her back.
“Hey there,” I said once I was within a couple of feet.
“I’m Ivy,” she said, her big bright eyes full of curiosity and happiness. “Who’re you?”
Jesus, this kid. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen one so damn cute before. But still, she needed to be a whole hell of a lot more careful. “I’m Micah. Hasn’t your mom talked to you about stayin’ away from strangers? It’s not safe to go around givin’ your name to just anyone.”
Her little head cocked to the side, and I noticed then that she had a bright pink flower tucked behind her ear. “But you’re not a stranger,” she said, her Rs coming out a bit thick, sounding more like Ws—again, cute. “Auntie Siva said you’re our neighbor, and people should know their neighbors. So I said hi.”
“Fair point. Well then, hi back. Speaking of your aunt . . .” I scanned the area nearby. “She out here keepin’ an eye on you?”
“Yep,” she chirped. “We’re lovin’ the garden. Auntie Siva says dat means I get to tear all the dead stuff outta the ground so all the new, pretty stuff can grow. See?” She held up her hands, showing me they were caked with dirt. Upon closer inspection, so was her tutu. So, she was a rocker/diva/princess/tomboy then. Odd combo, but she seemed to make it work. “You wanna help us love the garden?”
“No thanks, kid. I had a shit day. I’m gonna go inside and crash.”
Her mouth dropped open comically wide, and she sucked in a dramatic gasp. “You said shit,” she stage whispered. “You owe me a dollar!”
My chin jerked back in shock at that. “I’m not givin’ you a fuckin’ dollar,” I declared, the words tumbling out before I could pull them back. Son of a bitch. I wasn’t used to being around kids, hell, I wasn’t even good with kids, so I hadn’t been prepared to keep my language in check.
Her chest puffed and her whole body swayed backward on another gasp. “Dat’s five dollars! ’Cause Mommy says dat’s a really bad word.”
Sylvia joined us at the fence line. “Evenin’, Micah. Glad to see you made it home before the moon came up tonight.”
“Auntie Siva! Mike said alllllll the bad words!”
Sylvia arched a single brow. “Did he now?”
“It’s Micah, not Mike,” I corrected.
“Dat’s what I said.”
Deciding it was best to give up on that particular argument, I looked to Sylvia and saw a look of reproach on her face. “Give me a break,” I grunted. “I’m not used to kids. I fu—I messed up.”
“He owes me six dollars!” the adorable little snitch exclaimed, looking up at her aunt and hopping in place with excitement. “I’m gonna buy ice cream!”
Well shit. She was just so damn enthusiastic about the idea of having six bucks, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her no. Pulling my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans, I flipped it open and fished out six ones, handing it over to the little extortionist.
She actually fanned the bills out and counted, making sure they were all there before tucking them into the waistband of her tutu with a resounding nod.
Had to appreciate the kid’s smarts. She played me with her super cuteness before showing her ruthless side and going in for the kill.
“All right, well I’m gonna go before this little monster cleans me out.”
“Mike, wait!”
I looked down at the kid who looked so much like her mom, thinking, Christ, the men in this town are so fucked when she gets older. “Yeah, Monster?”
“Wanna have dinner with us? Mommy’s makin’ man-a . . . somethin’—”
“Manicotti, sweets,” Sylvia assisted.
“Yeah, dat! And it’s super good! You wanna come over? Please, please, please?”
Something told me she wasn’t used to hearing the word no, especially from men, and I wasn’t a big fan of being the one to burst that bubble. If the circumstances were different, I’d have told her yes in a heartbeat. But I had a feeling her mom wouldn’t be thrilled with me just walking in and sitting down at the dinner table.
“Sorry, kid. Maybe some other time.”
Her whole face fell like I’d just told her Christmas was canceled this year because Santa had gotten into a sleigh crash, Rudolph had died on the scene, and two of the other reindeer were in critical condition.
“Oh,” she whispered, looking down at the ground as she stuffed the toe of her glittery combat boot into the grass. “Okay.”
Shit. I hadn’t technically done anything wrong, but I still felt like the world’s biggest jerk. I needed to get the hell out of there fast before I gave her the rest of the cash in my wallet just to bring the smile back to her face.
“You ladies have a good evenin’, yeah?” I told her and Sylvia. “And enjoy that manicotti.”
I jerked my chin up to Sylvia before quickly turning and hustling toward my house like a goddamn coward.
Hayden
The back door opened as I was filling the manicotti shells with my special cheese mixture. “Hey, guys. Dinner’ll be ready in a little less than an hour. I just need to . . .” My sentence trailed off when I saw the dejected expression on my daughter’s face. “What’s the matter, love bug?” She’d been out in the garden with Sylvia, pulling weeds and pruning the plants, so I couldn’t imagine what could have happened to put that look on her face.
She hung her head, her sadness filling the air all around her little body. “My new friend Mike won’t have dinner with us.”
I looked to Sylvia in confusion. “Mike?”
“Micah,” she clarified. “Our little princess spotted him when he got home from work and took an interest.”
“He gave me six dollars for the swear jar.”
“Wait . . .” I shook my head. “He gave you money? For swearing?”
“Yu-huh. He said a bad word, then a really bad word. So I told him he gots to gimme six dollars, and he did.”
I put down a partially filled manicotti and wiped my hands on the dishtowel I’d hung over my shoulder. “Honey, that swear jar is something for you and me. You don’t tell just anyone they owe you money for saying bad words.”