Page 59 of Violent Little Thing

The only reason I’d allowed it was because Court’s place was fully furnished.

Every single room in his house was decorated like a personal decorator had stopped by and thrown up her Pinterest boards in every room.

My dad helped me lift all the heavy things, and by midday, we had everything moved into Court’s ranch house.

I had boxes and boxes of stuff piled into his living room, and Dad was staring around the property like he was about to buy it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I walked up to stand beside him.

He threw his heavy arm around my shoulders and tugged me close to him.

I’d never grown up.

At five foot even—four foot eleven if you asked my doctor or looked at the molding in my parents’ kitchen—I would always be his little girl.

“He lives on the second biggest ranch in the county,” Dad mused as he looked around. “And has no animals to show for it.”

I snorted out a laugh, loving how my dad had made this observation after only being on the property for fifteen minutes—most of that time spent unloading box after box. “Which is a good thing because you can’t have animals and be out of town as much as he is.”

“Lot of upkeep,” Dad continued to survey the land.

“A lot,” I agreed. “But all of it is done. I wonder who does it?”

“I do.”

I blinked and whirled, finding a sixteen-year-old there waving at me.

He had a goofy smile on his face that had my lips kicking up at the edges.

“Oh.” I placed my hand over my heart. “You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m responsible for cleaning up the main yard.” He gestured around the house. “And mowing that field there. The rest of it Court’s renting out to Denver.”

“That makes more sense,” Dad added, offering the teen his hand. “What’s your name, kid?”

The kid looked bashful as he took it. “Don’t tell my mother that I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Frey.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Frey,” Dad said. “You’re light on your feet.”

An expression came over his face that looked a whole lot like horror.

“Dad wasn’t the greatest dad when I was growing up. Learned to be quiet,” he admitted.

He didn’t say anything more, but he didn’t have to.

It was obvious what he was saying without actually saying it.

Dad’s eyes went alert. “What’s your last name?”

Ahh, I loved my dad.

“Duke.” His lips quirked up, showing off a really cute front gap in his teeth. “And don’t worry. We’re not anywhere near them anymore.”

It was an hour later, as I was staring at the boxes and wondering if I should unpack in a random room since Court still hadn’t answered my texts on which one I was taking over, that he finally called me back, and I got some answers on Frey.

“Sorry.” Court sounded exhausted. “We had that press conference.”

I winced.