CHAPTER THREE

  Married? That, Cassie couldn’t see. Divorced? That made more sense. Sadly. But truly. After hours of sorting his paid and unpaid invoices, Cassie had shared lunch with Sierra Bradley at the bistro. Jax had missed lunch, so she brought him back a roast beef on white. Seemed like a manly sandwich. He didn’t say anything, but he’d eaten it and gone back to work on some project in the sectioned-off area of his workroom.

  After lunch she’d worked one more hour, and then she split and took the book cabinet—which was amazing—to her client in Chicago. The woman had fallen in such love with it, she’d asked for an identical one for her office. Cassie would put the order in tomorrow morning. Tomorrow, when she might pry a little and get some answers to her endless supply of questions. Like why would a man who called his ex Harlot move to be closer to her? Her only explanation? Jax had procreated. God help them all.

  He never mentioned a kid, though. Wouldn’t a proud dad be thrusting cell phone photos in front of everyone who passed by? That was what Knox did when he didn’t have the live version in his arms. That was what she’d do. That was what Facebook was for. Facebook. She hurried and flipped her laptop open, nearly knocking over her cup of coffee. She searched for Jax Woodall.

  Of course.

  Nada. He wasn’t exactly the social media type.

  What about Lori? Dang. She wouldn’t be Lori Woodall anymore. She was obviously married. She doubted Jax would call his own child a cuss word. Not that parents didn’t, but typically those parents wouldn’t move states away to be close to their kid.

  That was kind of sweet.

  Stomach rumbling, she opened her fridge. Ugh. All she had were the pork chops and she didn’t feel like cooking. But she really didn’t want to spend the money eating out. A single slice and a diet coke would cost about three bucks. She could scrape that out of her truck floor boards. Pizza at Little Italiano it was.

  She grabbed her coat. Brrr. The temperature had really dropped since the sun went down. She sped to the pizza place and rushed inside. Pretty empty for a Monday night. Angie Delgatto waved. “Sit wherever, hon.”

  Hon. Angie Delgatto always rubbed her the wrong way. Cassie scanned the room and groaned. In the corner sat Mr. Man himself. He glanced up, registered who he was staring at, and made a face like he’d sucked a lemon.

  “That’s no way to treat an employee,” she hollered, gaining the attention of the three couples and one family in the establishment. She strode over to the table. “If you’d have stayed over for dinner last night, we could both be eating leftovers.”

  “I like pizza.”

  “I’m shocked you didn’t order yours in.” She leaned down. “You come out, and you have to see and speak to people,” she whispered.

  He glowered.

  She smiled, satisfied she’d pricked his nerves.

  “What can I get ya, Cassie?” Angie asked from behind the counter.

  “Just a cheese slice and a diet Coke. For here.” She slapped Jax on the shoulder. “Enjoy your dinner, boss.” She left him alone in the corner and took a booth by the wall. Digging into her purse, she pulled out her phone and checked her Words With Friends. Nice one, Eden. Za. Who knew that was a word. She studied her selection of letters. A shadow covered her phone and table.

  “This is stupid,” he grumbled and slid into the seat across from her, clinking his beer on the table as he set it down. “If we’re both going to be here…”

  “If you’re disgusted about sitting with me, why are you sitting with me? You don’t see me freaking out.” She went back to her game, ignoring him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Playing a game you’d hate. It involves words.”

  He inhaled half his glass of beer then grunted.

  “See.” She snorted and sent Eden back her forty-two-point word. Maybe this time she’d beat her. She put her phone on the table and stared at Jax. He stared back. Several beats passed. “Well, this is titillating conversation. Titillating. I need to try to see if I can’t fit that into the game.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “The invoice system looks good.”

  “You’re welcome.” She folded her arms on the table. “Do you have a kid?”

  He groaned and slurped the rest of his beer down.

  “Hey, you knew what you were getting into when you sat down. So either answer me or go back over there all hunched over the table brooding in your brewskie.”

  “I have a daughter.”

  “Age?”

  “Eight.”

  “Name?” Dang, it was like pulling wisdom teeth. Impacted wisdom teeth. Except those had to be cut out. It was like cutting out impacted wisdom teeth.

  “Daisy Ray.”

  Cassie’s heart pitter-pattered. “Oh, that is the cutest. What a sweet, little southern belle name. You have a hand in that?”

  “My middle name is Ray.”

  Jaxon Ray. It fit. “I bet she’s as cute as a daisy, too. You got a picture?”

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t make a move to show his daughter off. Cassie’s heart sank. Didn’t he want to show her off? With a name like that? Even without a name like that. “How come I haven’t seen her around town?”

  “Because she doesn’t stay with me. I go see her.”

  Why? Was he not allowed to see her without supervision?

  “Don’t go making that face.”

  “What face?”

  “The one that puts me in the deadbeat dad category.” He signaled to Angie for another drink. “It’s complicated and no, I’m not going into it.”

  “You don’t plan on getting sloshed do you?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I don’t get sloshed.”

  “That’s what fifty percent of the people drinking say. I know; I used to tend bar. And I was in that fifty percentile. Half the time.”

  He laughed. It sent a wave of tingles across her middle. “The other half of the time you knew you were gonna get sloshed.”

  “Exactly. But I don’t drink anymore. Teetotaler.”

  “Alcoholic?”

  “Abstaining from all the things that aided in my wild living days. I’m a Christian.”

  Angie sat his beer down. He lifted it. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “Ha ha.” Was he a Christian? “What about you?”

  “Not a teetotaler. I thought the beer gave it away.” He sipped it and sat back as Angie brought one large, deep-dish pizza with double pepperoni.

  Cassie eyed the huge pizza. “You gonna eat all that?”

  “No. I figure you’re gonna help.”

  Angie set her cheese slice down.

  “Seeing as you have no boundaries. I assume it crosses over into food, too.” He grabbed a slice and took a hefty bite.

  “You figured right.” She grabbed a piece herself and matched his bite. “So you moved here…” she chewed until she could get a clearer sentence out, “to be close to Daisy Ray?”

  “Yes.”

  “Expounding is not a bad word, you know.” She grabbed the parmesan cheese and doused her slice.

  “Yes, Cassidy, I did.” He chuckled and finished off his first piece.

  She rolled her eyes and worked on her piece, then took over inhaling her cheese slice. “Do you like it here?”

  “I like being near my kid.”

  “Wait till winter. The snow is wonderful. So pretty.”

  “So cold.” He wrinkled his nose.

  They ate in comfortable silence, enough for Jax to down three more slices and order a water.

  Angie brought the tickets to the table. Jax grabbed Cassie’s before she could.

  “I can pay for mine.”

  “I know.” Playfulness danced in his eyes. “Save your money for your dream home.”

  “Well thanks. I will.” She stood. “See ya tomorrow.”

  “I got that screen. I’ll come by and put it in on Saturday.”

  “I can put a screen in a window.” She belted her jacket.

  “I’ll be by Saturday.”

  She sighed. “Okay. Whatever.”

  “Drive safe.”

  She cocked her head. “See you at nine.” Jax Woodall. Possibly being nice. What was this?

  ***

  Jax hadn’t hated the other night at Little Italiano. He’d finally figured out the secret to keeping Cassidy quiet. Lots of food. Maybe he’d buy a mini fridge and stock it with her favorite things. If he knew her favorite things. She’d worked for him almost a week, and all he’d seen her with was coffee and pop tarts—gross. But the truth was, he actually kind of liked her yammering. Of course he’d never, ever tell her that. She’d never stop, and Jax liked silence too.

  He stood back and eyed his finished work. With a princess crown for a headboard, he’d done a bang-up job on Daisy Ray’s furniture. Hopefully, she would love it. See it like he saw her. A princess. He’d been the best dad he knew how. He’d never been around babies, so diaper changing and swaddling hadn’t come easy. But Jax had tried. And Lori had reminded him he never got it right. Never spent enough time with Daisy Ray or with her. Someone had to put food on the table. He hadn’t owned his own business in the early days. He’d worked for a lumber company. Paid decent but he had to work his way up for that. Then when he did decide to do some woodworking on the side for extra cash, Lori complained about that.

  All she did was moan and groan and ride his case.

  All he did was work harder, put a roof over their heads, fix her car, fix the appliances, build her a deck, lawn furniture, whatever she asked for. And it was never enough. The money was never enough. The house was never enough.

  He was never enough.

  So she’d found someone who was. Now she was married to him. Some fancy computer bigwig who’d relocated to Chicago and without so much as a “What do you think, Jax?” she up and moved Daisy Ray over eight hours away.

  Jax hadn’t bucked her. Because what was he supposed to do? He didn’t have custody. Not even joint. Regret ached in his chest. He’d had no clue what to do with a baby girl. A little girl. But he could do this. He’d been working on a whole room of princess furniture. Just for her. When she laid her head down at night, she’d know exactly what her daddy thought about her even if he didn’t get the words right. Even when her mama might tell her differently. When she opened a drawer, looked in her mirror, opened up a hope chest to get a warmer blanket, she’d think of him. It was all he had.

  He stirred the cotton candy colored paint.

  “Whacha doin’ there, boss man?” Cassidy breezed into his work space, coffee in one hand. Snug jeans without looking like a street-walker, a soft, thin sweater the same color as her eyes with a big fat collar that hung bunched around her neck. Tall green boots to match.

  “What’s it look like?” Admiring a woman he had no time for. A woman who would drive him crazy with her babble and get tired of him eventually.

  She twisted her lips, stroked her chin, and eyed the headboard. “I don’t know…” She held out the last word and cocked her head. She was full of sass. He’d kind of like to kiss it out of her.

  “I’m painting a headboard for Daisy Ray. Gonna give her this for her birthday. She’ll be nine on the thirtieth.”

  “Almost a Halloween baby. Cool. She like pink?”

  He frowned. “She’s an eight-year-old girl.”

  “Thank you. I didn’t realize that eight came before nine. Not what I asked.” She sipped her coffee and closed the distance between them. “It’s really pretty, Jax. She’ll love it. If she loves pink.”

  Didn’t all little girls like pink? Pink was a girlie color. “Like I said—”

  “Like I said. Have you seen her room? Is it pink?”

  He hadn’t seen her room. Never been past the front stoop. Never wanted to go inside.

  “What if she likes purple? Or blue? Baby blue. Navy blue. Turquoise. What if she likes green? My favorite color. In fact, I never liked pink. Pink is cliché. I don’t do cliché.”

  She didn’t do quiet either. “Have you ever played 1-2-3 Quiet Mouse?”

  “Have you ever played the game where you hold your breath until you pass out? I’d like to play that one with you and I hope you win.” She winked and swigged her coffee. “Decaf. You proud?”

  “You got work to do?”

  “Yes. I’m doing it right now. That’s so beautiful. I’d hate to see you ruin it with a color she hates. I mean it’s a princess headboard, so she likes the girlie stuff, right?”

  He grunted.

  She groaned. “Jax, what does Daisy Ray like?”

  He scratched his head.

  Cassidy blew a frustrated sigh and gave him the eye. The disapproving one. He hated that look. “She plays piano. Really well. She’s in a fancy music school.”

  “Ah! How long has she been playing?”

  There went the gooey-girlie face again. This time it wasn’t so bad. It was focused on Daisy Ray and he was so proud of her. “Since she was three. Didn’t even take a lesson at first. Just started picking things out and Lori realized it was an actual tune. ABCs. Put her in lessons after that.”

  “What do you do when you see her?”

  Jax’s stomach churned and his head thumped. “We’ve done museums. Navy Pier. Pizza. Games. I don’t know. Stuff where she can run around.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m gonna man the counter.” She strode from the room, a tick in her cheek.

  What did he say? What did he do? Same crap with Lori. He rarely understood why she’d been mad. Whatever. He dipped the brush in the paint and eyed the headboard. What if Daisy Ray didn’t like pink? He growled a curse and hammered the lid back onto the paint can. Next time he saw her, he’d ask. Why hadn’t he thought to ask?

  In fact, he knew very little about his daughter. School. Piano. Piano. Piano. Maybe he should have made a piano headboard. No. No, he was sold on the princess one. But he could make something into a piano. He’d chew on that idea.

  The day stretched out and he kept himself busy in the back room while Cassidy handled orders, calls, and whatever she was doing.

  At about two, she hollered she was gone, and she’d see him Monday.

  But he was putting a screen in for her on Saturday. He ought to go ahead and let her do it herself. Except he wanted to do it for her. Even if she was mad at him for some unknown reason. Women were always mad about something. Known or unknown.

  Still…he didn’t like it. He didn’t like feeling as though he’d messed up.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Between Cassie working for her clients and at Jax’s, the week had whizzed by. It shouldn’t have mattered so much that Jax didn’t know a thing about his daughter. But she was eight. She had a personality. A brain. He seemed to just pull out a tour guide map and tote her around Chicago seeing things she’d probably already seen. What was her favorite color? Jax didn’t know. Cassie’s dad had never known hers either. Never even tried to know in the few times he’d come back through town to take her to eat or drop off an impersonal gift. Just doing his duty, and then he stopped doing that when she was eleven. Jax was clueless. He was making her a bedroom set and that was sweet. But what did that really mean? Not a lot. Not to a little girl who wanted her daddy’s time and attention over gifts and going places.

  She’d noticed he’d refrained from painting it. Good.

  He’d come by her house Saturday morning and put the screen in. She only knew because she saw it after she woke up around nine.

  “Do we have anything pressing?” He waltzed into the show room. He’d been working away on an armoire and kitchen table since yesterday. His jeans were stained and his black T-shirt wrinkled, but he wore wrinkled well.

  “Why?”

  “I’m ahead of the game, and I need to close up early.”

  “Why?”

  He rubbed his brow bone. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

  “It’s the two questions and the answer is easy. I wanna know.” She gave him a sweet smile and he shook his head.

  She waited.

  “I need to see Daisy Ray’s room.”

  She held her laughter in. “Why?”

  “Oh. My. Good. Freakin’. Night.” He raked his hands through his hair and turned, heading down the hall and up the back stairs to his place. Cassie followed. She couldn’t help herself.

  She climbed the stairs that he must have taken two at a time. She opened his door and blew right in.

  “What are you doing?” he barked.

  “What’s it look like?”

  “Invading my privacy?”

  “You broke into my home.”

  “You plannin’ on fixin’ somethin’?”

  She scanned the open floor plan. Boxes stacked against the dining area. Leather couch and matching recliner. The coffee and end tables were to die for. He’d made them. It was his style. A monster flat screen hung on the wall opposite the couch. Audrey may have taken the cats with her, but the smell lingered. She curled up her nose.

  “It’s cat.” He scrunched his nose up, too.

  Cassie laughed and nodded. “You need some candles.”

  “I need to rip up this carpet and lay down hardwood or something.”

  No pictures on the walls. She glanced into the kitchen. Equally sparse. No wonder his daughter never visited. This was a total bachelor pad. Plus, now that she thought about it, it only had one bedroom. “I can fix something.”

  “I don’t want pork chops.”

  She tossed him a flat look. “This place is a…well, it’s not kid-friendly. It’s barely woman-friendly.”

  “I don’t have women over. Case closed.”

  “I’m over.” She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

  “Uninvited.” He matched her defiant glare and crossed arms. “I have to shower. So that’s your cue. I’m verbally giving it.”

  “Well, at least you’re verbalizing something.”

  “Out.” He turned and tromped down the tiny hall to the bathroom.

  She followed him. His towering frame spun on her. At the awareness of how close he was, the smell of sawdust and pine, she lost her breath.

  “You getting in with me?” he asked, his tone husky.