Maddy muttered, “I’m not livestock,” under her breath.
Rena glared. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
Rena sighed dramatically, like motherhood was an exhausting performance. “Goodbye, Maddy. Be good.”
Maddy nodded, but she didn’t look at her mother again.
Rena climbed into her SUV and drove off without a wave.
Maddy watched her go with a small frown she tried to hide. Then she sighed loudly. “She’s in a mood.”
“Seems like it,” I replied, not wanting to speak poorly of her mom, but also not completely impressed with the situation.
“She gets weird every time she drops me off. Like she thinks I’m gonna turn feral the second I get to your ranch.”
I snorted. “Too late, you’re already feral.”
“Facts,” she said with a grin.
We loaded her bag into the truck. When she climbed in, she stuck her feet up on the dash like she owned the place. I got in on my side, water squishing from my jeans.
She studied me for a long second.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Liar.”
I glanced over. She was watching me like she was trying to read the truth off my face.
“What happened?”
“My neighbours stock waterer blew.”
“Those don’t just blow. Not unless it’s winter.”
I tightened my grip on the wheel. “Sometimes they do.”
“Dad.”
The kid was too perceptive for her own good.
“It was just a long morning.”
“Okay.” She didn’t believe me, but she didn’t push—not yet. Instead, she squinted at my face. “You look stressed.”
“I’m fine.”
“Your eyebrow is doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing it does when you’re pretending you’re fine.”
Jesus.
