“Everyone has hair in their nose and their ears, baby girl,” I said.
“No. I went to check. Look up there, Daddy.” She climbed on my lap and tipped her head back, giving me a perfect view inside her nostrils, which made me laugh. “There aren’t any hairs in there. And look in my ears too.”
She gave me a nice shot of her ear next, and I scooped her up and moved to my feet. “Maybe my parents were monkeys,” I said as she laughed some more.
I carried her to her bathroom and set her down on her feet, then handed her toothbrush to her and applied a dab of toothpaste. “Brush. Let me get dressed, and I’ll make you some breakfast.”
“You’re not a monkey, Daddy. You’re just a hairy man,” she called out as I walked back to my bedroom and into my bathroom.
I quickly slipped on some jeans and a hoodie. I needed to get out to two jobsites today for a few hours, just to make sure the weekend crew wasn’t slacking.
The large hotel that I was overseeing for my friend Myles St. James was progressing well. We’d bulldozed the Seaside Inn several months ago, and we were putting up a much larger structure in its place. I also had to get over to Violet Beaumont’s house to make sure they were making progress on the bathroom and kitchen renovation. She was staying in my guesthouse, and the woman was a big thorn in my side, so the sooner I got her back in her home, the better. She’d practically burned the place down a few days ago, and I’d walked in on her in a pair of panties and high heels. The woman was a mess.
A sexy-as-sin mess.
I finished brushing my teeth and rinsed my mouth as I thought about the way she’d had her hands on her hips, ready for battle.
She was feisty and always ready to argue.
A distraction that I didn’t need living in my backyard.
I strode over to the kitchen, and my little girl came out of her bedroom dressed for the jobsite: a white turtleneck, overalls, her cowboy boots, and the pink tool belt I’d gotten her for Christmas. “Saturdays are for pancakes, Daddy.”
“Yes, they are,” I said, grabbing the box and then whipping up some batter quickly.
My girl would eat pancakes every day of the week if I let her. But we saved them for Saturdays, and we either ate them here or went over to the Brown Bear Diner for a nice stack.
I ladled the batter into the pan before grabbing her a glass of milk and pouring myself a cup of coffee. Harper grabbed the maple syrup from the refrigerator, placed it on the table, found two napkins and some utensils, and set us up.
She’d wanted to learn how to do some chores over winter break, and she was a quick study, just like her old man. It was important to me to raise my baby girl to grow up and be self-sufficient, even if I knew that I’d take care of this little angel until I took my last breath.
She was my reason to do better.
To be better.
I plated our food, and we both sat down at the table.
“Napkin in your lap, Daddy. I saw it on a movie. We don’t live on a farm, so we shouldn’t act like animals.”
Did I mention that my daughter is six going on thirty?
She was a bossy little thing and full of fire. And I wouldn’t change a single hair on her head.
I set my paper napkin on my lap and raised a brow. “I suppose that means you should be keeping your desk area clean in your room, if you don’t want to live like an animal.”
She took a long sip of her drink, then set it down and looked up at me with a white milk mustache over her lip. “Those are art supplies on my desk. Artists are messy. Mrs. Wharton even told us so.”
“Is that so?” I waited for her to look up at me. “Would that be the same Mrs. Wharton who talked to me at school yesterday about you missing recess for talking too much?”
She shrugged. “That lady runs a tight ship.”
I tried to cover my smile, because my girl was a witty little thing, but I kept my tone serious. “Harper.”
“Daddy,” she mimicked.
“Listen, you want to grow up and be real smart. You don’t want to have to work as hard as I do out there building things when you can be sitting at a desk in a fancy office. So stop talking and listen to Mrs. Wharton.”
“I was only talking because Cooper was upset. He didn’t understand the directions. No one would help him because they’re all afraid of Mrs. Wharton. But he started crying, and I felt bad.”
