“Well, happy belated, Ellie. My birthday isnextmonth. So you could say I’m an old twenty-four.”
She giggles. “Dallas says he’s just old.”
I laugh from the pit of my stomach. “He sounds funny.” I stand and meet Rose at the stove and raise a brow.
“She hasn’t started calling him .?.?. anything else yet,” she whispers.
“I got that. Maybe someone should tell her what you call men who gave you life,” I mumble.
She shushes me. “And what are you callingyour‘man who gave you life’ these days?”
“Not the point,” I grit. I glance back at Ellie. “I’m notherapist, but in my opinion, the longer he lets this first-name basis go on, the longer she’ll believe he’s fine with it.”
“He obviously isn’t,” Rose argues.
“Obvious to who?”
“OK, you need more coffee, lady. And food, sit down.”
I huff and take a seat across from Ellie. “So what do you do for fun around here?”
“Rose and I went apple-picking yesterday. And Grandpa Connor takes me on pony rides after school sometimes. On weekends, Wesley takes me to the kitchen and we bake cookies.”
I narrow my eyes but don’t call out the obvious. Instead, I rest my chin in my hands, elbows propped on the table. “And what doyoulike to do?”
She shrugs. “I like soccer, unicorns and princesses, making bracelets, and I’m on book four ofThe Magical Woods. Oh, and I like to sing.”
I sit up. “Now you’re talkin’ my language. I love to sing. I play piano too.”
Ellie’s eyes light up. “You do? My grandma plays too.” Her smile fades at the thought of her grandmother, who I know from Rose’s stories is ill. “She said she’d teach me one day.” Her head drops. “I don’t think she will.”
Uh-oh.
I look for my best friend to step in with all her early-development education and help me out here.
But Rose is pre-occupied like she received terrible news on her phone.
“What is it?”
She blinks, setting her phone on the counter. “Oh, nothing. I, um, hey, Ellie, let’s go grab your backpack and put your shoes on. I’ll take you to school in the golf cart.”
“OK.” She jumps up.
I perk a brow. “Is thisthegolf cart?”
“The one and only. Wanna ride with us?”
“Sure.” I grimace after another sip of the dreadful coffee. Pushing off my seat I dump the rest of the it in the sink. “You got a Starbucks around here?”
“Wilder’s not big on coffee. That French press over there is Dallas’s, but between him and me, we finished all the good stuff. We can grab a better brew at The Shack, that’s the ranch bar and kitchen.”
“Good enough for me. I’ll just clean up and catch up with you two outside.”
The second they’re gone, I pick up Rose’s phone. I wouldn’t put it past my ex to start harassing my best friend, trying to get to me.
But it’s not Eric that’s got her upset. It’s a text from Wilder.
Wilder:Hey Blue, just checked in with Ginger and we’re fully booked on guest cabins until next Friday, then closing for the season.
