Page 36 of Homebound

Dakota props a hand on her hip. “Oh, you mean you drove me five miles down the road from The General? Thanks. You’re definitely owed sex for that act of chivalry.”

I turn my laugh into a cough. They both glance in my direction, so I cough again to sell the whole act. I’m not sure what Dakota’s motive is for kicking him out, but she’s been doing what she wants when she wants since the day she was born.

“Fine,” the guy scoffs, tossing up his keys. “I’ll go. You’re really living up to that Cowboy Killer reputation, girl.”

“Good,” she retorts.

He stalks out of the barn, slamming the door on his way out, hard enough to rattle the cedar walls. That sets my baby girl off.

“You didn’t have to send him home because of me!” I yell, raising my voice over Vi’s screams.

“Yeah, I did!” she shouts back. “He was being a dick to you, and frankly, the date was terrible. He smelled like dildo!”

Dildo?

“What?!” It’s impossible to have a conversation with my girl screaming.

“Dil-do!” she repeats.

“Why would he smell like a dildo?” I yell, bouncing Vi in my arms. Her face is a scrunched-up tomato for all the crying.

“MILDEW!” she clarifies. “He smelled like mildew!”

“Ah, got it. Sorry, she’s loud, but it’s nice to know you aren’t sniffing dildos in your spare time.”

She side-eyes me. “That you know of.”

Vi lets out another wail, and Dakota gestures to her with wiggly fingers. “Here. You look like you could use some help. Give me the little devil. I’ll hold her while you build the crib.” She opens her arms, ready to take my tiny bundle of chaos.

I clutch my girl tighter to my chest. “Thanks for the offer, but she’s in a mood tonight. Doesn’t want anyone but her daddy holding her.”

Dakota rolls her lips between her teeth, contemplating something. After a moment, she picks up one of the pieces of the crib, tossing it in her hand. “Then how about you hold her while I build the crib?”

I stiffen, surprised that she’s even offering, but then a pang of guilt shoots through me for having the thought. She’s a pescatarian bull rider who avoids stepping on bugs, so her generosity always runs deep.

Hell, she’s the one who convinced my parents to make the farm a bird sanctuary for their agriculture exemption, and now they’ve saved a few endangered species, thanks to her. Not that she ever sees the good parts of herself. She only focuses on the bad things.

“You’ll really help me build the crib?” I ask.

The honey in her eyes seems to warm as her gaze lingers on Vi, a thoughtful tilt to her head. Her focus drifts from my hands wrapped around my girl’s tiny body to the shadows I know are under my eyes, and the lines of her face seem to soften.

“Yeah. You look like you could use a break, and I want to help.”

She’s right. I’m exhausted, but I don’t want her pity. What I want is for her to want me, like a woman wants a man, but I doubt she will when I smell like a mix of baby powder and wet wipes.

“I'm a single parent. I’m always tired,” I attempt to joke.

Her lips curve into a half-grin, amusement playing across her face. It’s not nearly close enough to the smile I want to see. “Then let me help you build a crib. Now, where are those instructions?”

I nod to a pamphlet on the living room floor, and she gets to work. While she pieces together the crib, she doesn’t talk to me, but we’ve always been comfortable in each other’s silence, and I don’t have the energy to force a conversation with Vienna wailing, so I watch her work, gratitude thrumming through me like a heartbeat until my girl starts to calm.

My eyelids droop, but I fight to stay awake so I can watch Dakota. The way her dark-brown hair brushes her forearms as she moves. How her tongue pokes out when she tries to drill a piece into the crib. Vi’s eyes close, and mine start to flutter.

Drifting. Dreaming, imagining my girl giggling in my woman’s arms.

Someone shakes me. “Patterson.”

“Hm.”