Daddy’s Wild Girl (Montana Daddies #16)

Chapter 20

20

G od. Her smile.

She looked so happy. Had he ever seen her look that happy before?

And over a damn cocktail. It was a ridiculous-looking cocktail. Way too much sugar. More than he’d ever let her have if she was his . . .

But she’s not.

So chill.

And besides, if it brought that smile to her face . . . well, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to make her happy.

Fuck.

He was really falling for this girl.

But could it ever work between them?

“How often do you need to come here to cheer up?” he murmured.

“Only about once a week now. Used to be every night for a while there. It was the only thing that got me through the day. That and therapy.”

Jesus.

Talk about a punch to the stomach.

He couldn’t breathe, thinking about what sort of pain she had to be in that she needed to come here to have a ridiculous drink that made her smile.

He wanted to ask her more, but this wasn’t the place. It was loud, but that didn’t mean that people couldn’t listen in on their conversation. He felt the old guy a few stools away lean in.

So, asking her about that would have to happen another day.

“I’m going to scope out the place,” Hayes said. “You got her?”

“Yep. Got her.” Corbin gave the man a nod before he slid away into the crowd. “There’s a lot of people here for a pub that doesn’t advertise.”

“Well, not every bar grants wishes,” she replied, turning with her drink in her hand. She moved her mouth to take a bite of Cool Whip. When she glanced back up at him, she had a white mustache.

He couldn’t stop himself. Didn’t want to stop himself. Reaching out, he wiped it off her lip and then brought his finger to his mouth, sucking it clean.

Her eyes widened, her lips parting as she stared up at him. And he knew then that he was going to lean in and kiss her.

It was inevitable.

It was fate.

Until someone jostled into him from behind. He turned with a snarl, and the guy behind him quickly held up his hands.

“Sorry, mate,” he said with an accent. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Hey, there, Bebe. You all right, love?”

“I’m good, thanks, Hopper. You?” Bebe replied.

“Yeah, nah, I’m good.” He waved cheerfully and kept moving through the crowd.

“Yeah, nah?” Corbin asked.

“He’s a Kiwi. It’s a strange saying they have. I still haven’t worked out exactly why they say it like that. And sometimes it seems to mean yes and sometimes it seems to mean no.” She shook her head, smiling at him as she took another sip of her drink.

Fuck. Why did that look so sexy?

Why did everything she did seem sexy?

And how could he get her out of here and somewhere private where he could . . . whoa, client!

Remember, she’s a client.

Corbin sucked in a breath, then spotted something strange over her shoulder.

“What’s that? Why is there a tree in a pub?”

“Um, because it’s the wishing tree, silly.”

“Right. Uh-huh. Of course it is. Because every basement pub on the bad side of town with employees called Shakespeare and Churchill needs a wishing tree.”

“They do when it grant wishes. Come see.” She slid off her chair and nearly fell onto her bottom, her foot catching against the leg of the stool next to her.

He caught her against him, her drink sloshing onto his shirt.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” she cried. “I’m so stupid and clumsy! I can get that stain out. Really, I can. What an idiot!”

Whoa.

Where had all of that come from?

Was she trembling? It spun his head how fast she could go from confident and sassy to scared and unsure.

And it made him wonder why. Who was the real Bluebelle? This reckless, wild girl? The scared, uncertain girl? Or something in the middle?

“Look at me. Look at me, Bebe,” he said sternly, needing her attention.

Her gaze rose from where it had fixated on the stain to meet his eyes. He hated how watery those gorgeous blue eyes of hers were. They should only ever be filled with joy and happiness.

Taking her half-empty glass, he set it aside for her.

“It’s just a stain. It’s not the end of the world. I’ll wash it out or I won’t. No big deal. What is important is you.”

“Me?”

Why the hell did she look so shocked by that?

Urgh.

She made him want to interrogate her until she told him every awful thing that had ever happened in her life. Every person who had hurt her.

And then he was going to hunt them down and make them pay.

“Yes, you,” he said firmly. “You are what is important. Not a damn shirt. Did you hurt yourself?”

“Hurt myself?”

“Yes, Bebe. Try to stay with me here, sweetheart. Did you hurt yourself?”

“When?” she asked, looking bewildered.

“When you tripped just now.”

“Oh. Ohhh. No, that was just me being clumsy. And maybe the jellybean sparkle went to my head.” She gave him a small smile that did little to convince him she was all right.

“All right. Just be careful, I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“Um. Yeah. Sure. Come. Come see the wishing tree.”

To his shock, she grabbed hold of his hand and led him over to the tree on the other side of the room. It really was fake, of course. But it looked amazing lifelike. People were crowded around it and there was an opening in the bark.

“Has anyone ever tried to climb into it?” he asked as they pressed close and he took in the size of the hole.

“Um, I’ve thought about it. But I don’t want the Duke to take my membership, so I decided it probably wasn’t a smart idea.”

Right.

That was the best reason she had for not climbing down a narrow, fake tree.

This is why she needed him. To keep her safe. Not just from outside dangers but from herself.

“This is what you do. You grab a piece of paper.” She picked up a piece of yellow paper and a pen that were on the table next to the tree. “Then you write down your name and your address and your wish.”

“You have to put your name and address?” he asked. “What? The tree doesn’t just magically know those things?”

“No, silly, it doesn’t. What would you wish for?” she asked, staring up at him.

You.

But that wasn’t something he could say. Not without scaring her. So he cleared his throat.

“I don’t know. Maybe . . . maybe one more day with my dad.” It was odd. Most of the time, he thought he was good. That he had gotten past the raw pain of his father’s death. But then, something happened to bring the past back. Something would remind him of his dad and he would feel the pain flood him again.

Suddenly, he found himself with a bundle of Bebe in his arms, holding onto him tight with her face pressed against his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, squeezing him tighter.

“Hey, what’s this?” he murmured. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry that your dad died. He was a wonderful dad to you and he’s gone too early . . . it’s just not right, and I wish there was something I could do to get him back for you.”

Oh.

Ohh. That was really very sweet. He tightened his hold on her, spotting Hayes across the room. The other man pointed up. Was he going upstairs to look around? How would he get up there?

Actually, it didn’t matter.

He was grateful that Hayes was giving them time alone.

Drawing her back, he placed a finger under her chin. “Thank you for that, baby. My dad dying was a horribly painful thing to go through for my whole family. But I was lucky to have him and I didn’t say that to make you sad.”

“It’s just . . . the wishing tree can’t bring people back from the dead.”

She said it so earnestly. As though she thought it could really do other things . . . like grant actual wishes.

“It’s all right, Bebe. I know it can’t. When I said that about my father . . . well, I wasn’t really thinking. It just came out. I know that nothing can bring him back. Not even a magic wishing tree.”

She gave him a small smile. “I know you’re just humoring me, but it really does grant wishes. Is there anything else you want? You can write it down and throw it in.”

“No, uh, nothing I can think of.”

She nodded.

“What about you? Have you ever made a wish?” he asked.

“Yeah, I did when I was feeling at my lowest. That’s when the real wishes are created. And granted.”

Did she really believe all of this? Surely, she couldn’t.

“And was your wish granted?” he asked.

She gave him a strange look. “Not yet. It’s being worked on.”

Okay, that didn’t make a lot of sense. But he got the feeling he shouldn’t ask what her wish was.

An older woman stepped up to the tree and started writing on a piece of paper. Then she sent it into the hole.

She was thin and hunched, as though life was weighing her down. Her dark hair was streaked with gray, and it was flat and lifeless.

“What wish did you make?” Bebe asked quietly, surprising him.

“Wait, should she tell you that?” he asked.

Bebe grinned at him. “It’s okay. It’s not like birthday wishes. You can tell people what you wish for. If you’re comfortable with it, that is.”

The woman let out a deep sigh. “I got sick last year and my husband took a lot of time off to take care of me. He lost his job, not that I blame his employer or anything. But now, we’ve got three kids to feed and medical bills to pay, and I’m not yet well enough to work and he can’t find any.”

“So you asked for money?” Corbin asked.

The woman frowned. “You don’t ask the wishing tree for money.”

Bebe shook her head. “That’s not the way it works. You don’t ask for money or things. You ask for . . . help.”

“Right. That’s all we want is a bit of help. I was a baker. A really good one before I got sick and my husband used to help me. We’re thinking of something small. A stall in a market. Nothing too big. We’ll build it up from there if we can. We just need help to get started.” The woman gave them a sad smile before walking away.

Anger rushed through him. “Isn’t this giving people false hope?”

“What?”

“It’s giving false hope to people down on their luck.”

“Well, isn’t that what a wishing tree or making a birthday wish or wishing on a star does?”

“Yeah, but this place lures people in with false promises. Into a place where they sell alcohol. So basically, isn’t it like a gimmick to get people into a pub to buy alcohol?”

Bebe shook her head sadly. “It isn’t like that at all. Remember, you can’t get in here unless you’re a member or a member brings you. The Duke doesn’t need more people in here. Look around. It’s all right if you don’t believe it. But try not to say anything bad about the Duke in here. People around here won’t like it.”

Hell. He didn’t know what to think.

And now he really wanted to know what her wish had been.

“Come on, I need another drink,” she told him.

The TV screens around the pub flicked onto advertisements during half-time. Corbin wasn’t a sports guy, but he knew Hayes would appreciate being able to watch the game.

“What the hell?” she whispered, coming to a stop in the middle of the room.

“Bebe? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“She . . . she wouldn’t.” Bluebelle spun around, taking in another TV screen. “What does she think she’s doing?” Her head started shaking back and forth.

Corbin finally stopped and looked at the TV.

What. The. Fuck.

“You had no idea about this?” he asked her, unable to believe what he was seeing.

They were filming The Benner Life again? It was coming back on in two months’ time?

How? Why?

Neither Barb nor Benton had told them that. Although it did make Barb’s quip about them being on camera more understandable. And why she’d had them sign NDAs.

Then the announcer’s voice came over and a shot went to Bebe. It was a clip of that episode where she listened to Ericc the dick, explaining that he didn’t love her, that he was using her. The screen panned to her expression.

God, it hurt him.

It really did.

“She’s back,” the voiceover said. “Your favorite girl you love to love and love to hate. It wouldn’t be The Benner Life without the youngest Benner. Bluebelle!”

“No, no, no,” she cried. “This can’t be happening.”

“I don’t understand. Have you been filming more episodes of The Benner Life ?” he asked, confused.

She glanced over at him, looking pale and ill. “No. No, I haven’t agreed to more filming. Why would I? I left that world. I don’t . . . what is she doing? There are no new episodes with me. And there never will be. She’s trying . . . she’s trying to control my life. Control me. I can’t . . . I can’t do this again. I just can’t!”

“Bebe, Bebe, listen to me.” He tried to grab her shoulders, but she slipped away from him, stepping back and shaking her head.

He could see the panic overtaking her. And he had to get through to her somehow.

“I won’t do this. I just can’t,” she said, her voice shaking. Her breathing was growing more erratic by the second, and she was rubbing at her chest as though she wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

“Bebe, I need you to stay calm,” he said in a low voice. Around them, people continued their conversations, but it wouldn’t take long before someone started to notice what was happening. “Just take slow, deep breaths for me. Everything will be all right, but panicking won’t help.”

“No, no! You don’t understand. I can’t! Not again. I can’t!”

Suddenly, she turned and took off through the crowd. Fuck! What was she doing? Where was she going?

If she wanted to leave, she was supposed to fucking wait for them, not just run off in a cloud of perfume and fear.

He moved after her, looking around for Hayes.

Fuck! He was on his own.

Bounding up the stairs, he yelled her name. “Bebe, wait! Stop! You can’t run off on your own!”

“Sh-she will always c-control me! Always!” she screamed back before he heard a door slam above.

Fuck!