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while.

“What is it?” Daisy frowns at the glossy white statue I’m lifting out of a narrow cardboard box.

It has long, narrow legs and a slender torso, and when I position it on the floor, it’s almost as tall as I am.

“Is it a dog or a deer? Or a horse?” The head is lowered, like it’s sniffing the ground or eating.

“It can’t be a horse. No mane.” She steps around the sculpture in her baggy denim overalls, looking so much like she did when we worked on her aunt’s house. “Maybe it’s a greyhound?”

She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, and I’ve forgotten the question. “Whoever buys it will know.”

“It reminds me of Dimitriov, but he only did human figures.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about. “You’re really smart with all this stuff.”

Her nose wrinkles, and she takes out a small white price tag. “There’s a lot I don’t know. I can ask Spencer. Not everything in the store needs a pedigree to sell.”

I watch as she prices it at $200 and attaches the tag to the ear. “Where do you want it?”

“It’s very dramatic. Maybe in the front window? Since it’s white, we don’t have to worry about it fading in the sun.”

Reaching around the animal’s body, I lift it and carry it over to the gallery window up front. She’s right behind me, carrying the inventory sheet, and it takes a few minutes for me to angle it to her satisfaction.

Our little girl is in preschool today, and I met her equally bossy best friend Coco this morning when they met up to walk to school.

“Chad seems like a good guy.” I follow her back to the tower of boxes we’ve relocated behind the cash register.

“He really is. He’s been popping in here checking on Melody and me since she was a baby.”

“That’s what I heard.” He’s married, but I still feel a twinge of possessiveness. “Is there some reason he does that?”

Daisy’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“It seems pretty quiet around here. Not a lot of traffic, no transients.”

“Oh.” Her expression relaxes. “I think he just likes being a presence, and with all the tourists during the high season, it’s nice to have him around. He’s like an extra set of eyes.”

“I see.” I lift a sheet of bubble wrap out of a box, and Daisy cuts her eyes at me.

“For a minute it sounded like you might be jealous.”

My eyes lift from the old guitar I’ve uncovered to meet hers, and a naughty little sparkle greets me. I drop the plastic on the floor and walk over to where she’s standing by a tall bookshelf.

“So what if I was?” Placing my hands on the ledge beside her, I lean down. “I want to know who’s hanging around my girls.”

“Your girls?” Her chin lifts, and our faces are so close.

We’re caught in a moment of heat and curiosity. I’ve kissed her in the past and it was sexy. I’ve kissed her in the ocean with my hand between her thighs, and it was blazing. Now she’s the mother of my little girl, a little girl who stole my heart and put it in her pocket.

I wonder what it would be like to kiss her again. I’m pretty sure it would be off the charts. Her full bottom lip slides between her teeth, and I’m ready to find out when the bell over the door jangles.

Daisy’s breath exhales on a little sigh I feel below the belt, and she leaves me to greet the older lady who has just entered.

“I heard you had some new help, Daisy. Are you planning to introduce me?” The old woman is stout and fussy, and her short, poufy hair is lavender.

She marches over to where I’m standing, trying to recover from that moment, like a small drill sergeant, and scowls up at me. “What’s your name, young man?”

“I’m Scout Dunne, Melody’s dad.” I hold out my hand, and her eyebrows jump.

“You’re Melody’s dad?” She looks from me to Daisy. “Where have you been?”

She says it in such an accusatory way, I almost laugh.

Daisy rushes over before I can answer. “He was in Los Angeles.” She motions between us. “Scout, this is Betty Pepper. She owns the Pack and Save on the corner. Where André works?”

“It’s Peppers Fine Goods now, Daisy Sales.” She’s a fussy old broad. Good thing I have experience with those.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Pepper. I heard you’re related to Owen. I grew up in Fireside.”

“Why weren’t you here helping to raise your daughter?”

Daisy makes a noise and presses a hand on her forehead. “He didn’t know about her, Ms. Betty. It’s not his fault.”

“Daisy Sales. Why in the world would you keep that information from him?”

“It’s really a long story.” Daisy picks up the inventory list and holds it up. “We’re so busy unpacking and pricing all of this stuff. What can I do for you?”

I get another sideways glance. “Well, you’re here now. That little girl is a handful.”

“I think she’s all right.” My tone is sharp, and I’m not sure where the sudden defensiveness comes from.

Either way, this old lady had better think twice if she’s going to criticize my daughter. It’s true, the quarterback princess is a bossy little handful, but only I can say that. And maybe Daisy.

Betty Pepper nods, giving me an unexpected smile. “You might be okay, Scout Dunne.” She returns to Daisy. “I won’t keep you, but Tabby said that Travis Walker is back in town. I thought you should know.”

That guy. I lean back, crossing my arms. I’d like to see the asshole poking his nose around Daisy’s store. It might get punched.

“I already know.” Daisy pulls the guitar out of the box and carries it to the counter. “He came by the store on Friday.” My arms lower, and Daisy’s brown eyes flicker to my change in posture. She quickly adds. “I told him I wasn’t interested. I don’t think he’ll be back.”

“Either

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