Single All the Way (Single Dads of Dragonfly Lake #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Ben

B eing a single dad of two little girls was not for the weak.

Balancing the single dad gig with a thriving veterinary practice? I’d been trying to do it for several years, and most days all I could do was hold on and get through the day, hoping everyone’s needs were met.

Take today, for example.

This chilly, rainy Sunday morning four days before Thanksgiving had started with an emergency call just before five a.m. from Bill Gibbons, a family friend since my childhood. His mare was in labor and needed help. I’d been waiting for my coffee to brew, preparing for my morning chores, planning to wake up the girls for feeding time as usual—our animals’, not the girls’—when the call had come in.

When a mare experienced dystocia, there was no time to waste—both her and the foal’s lives were in danger.

I’d woken the girls as my mind spun through options for childcare. I didn’t want to call Grandma Berty, because she’d stayed with Evelyn and Ruby last night until nearly midnight while I went to my weekly single dads’ night. At seventy-four, my grandmother needed her sleep.

Normally I’d call one of my techs, but Kat was sick, and Brad was out of town, so I’d had no choice but to grab a box of granola bars and some juice boxes and pile the girls into the truck with me.

“Daddy, I want to get a baby in Freckles’s tummy,” Ruby, my six-year-old, said from the backseat as I drove us home from what thankfully had ended up a successful birth.

My girls had hung out with Alice, Bill’s wife, during the tense birth, but they’d been able to witness the newborn foal standing for its first time just before we left. They’d been happily chattering nonstop ever since, still riding the high of that enchanting miracle.

I couldn’t help but be moved by it myself, even though I’d seen it dozens of times. I’d also experienced tragic results in similar situations, so I was all too aware we’d been lucky today.

“Freckles can’t have babies. He’s a gelding,” Evelyn, nine, told Ruby in her older-sister-knows-all voice.

“Bay Leaf then,” Ruby persisted. “She’s a girl.”

“A mare,” Evelyn corrected.

“A mare is a girl, and she can have baby horses,” Ruby said. “Please, Daddy?”

A laugh burst out of me, but instead of hell no , I said, “No baby horses for us for the foreseeable future, Ruby Tuesday. We’ve got our hands full already.”

“Grandma Berty said we shouldn’ta got the llamas.” Evelyn was wise beyond her years, an old-soul type, but she didn’t hesitate to keep me abreast of all my dear grandmother’s opinions. Which was good and bad.

In this case, the logical part of me acknowledged Grandma Berty could be right, but the animal-loving sucker in me would never give those llamas up. Not even escape artist Esmerelda.

“Betty and Esmerelda are part of the family,” I reassured my girls.

“So their last name is Holloway?” Ruby asked, pulling another grin from me.

“Of course it is,” I confirmed.

“I’m hungry,” Ruby said, flipping mental channels at the speed of a first-grader.

“We’ll get a real breakfast as soon as we feed the animals. How about pancakes?” I watched my younger daughter’s brown eyes light up in the rearview mirror.

“Yes!” Ruby said.

“I bet the chickens are even hungrier,” Evelyn said. The hens—all eight of ours and Emerson’s six—and Gordon, the rooster, were her responsibility, and she took it seriously.

“Maybe after we feed everyone and I get cleaned up, we’ll go to the diner for brunch,” I said, thinking it’d be nice to have Monty’s crew at the Dragonfly Diner cook for us. The birth had been touch and go. Getting the foal into the right position had been a challenge, and the adrenaline had finally receded, leaving me exhausted.

“We can’t go to the diner,” Evelyn said. “Miss Emerson is moving in today.”

“Shit!” I looked at the dash clock.

“You said a bad word, Daddy,” Ruby informed me.

“We’re late,” I muttered, only half-present in the conversation, my mind jumping to Emerson and her kids and how long they’d been waiting for us. “Which doesn’t make bad words okay,” I dutifully said to Ruby.

“We’re almost home,” Evelyn said.

I was, in fact, about to turn into our driveway.

As I pulled in, I noted the clinic parking lot was empty. That wasn’t always the case, even when it was closed, as people brought ill or injured animals in at all hours.

Next, out of habit, my gaze veered to the pasture, where the horses and llamas spent their days, to ensure that Esmerelda hadn’t escaped. Of course, none of them were out of the barn. I hadn’t had a chance to feed them or put them outside. It looked like an indoor day for them anyway due to the incessant cold drizzle.

As soon as I could see past the house to the driveway, I spotted Emerson’s SUV. I could tell it was running, as the windows were steamy, and the back wiper swished across every few seconds.

Damn.

At least they’d waited.

I pulled up next to the SUV and turned off the engine. Emerson looked my way, and I mouthed the word sorry , but I wasn’t sure she could see me through the steam and rain.

“Evel—”

“I got the chickens, Dad,” my older daughter said before I could.

“Go in front of Miss Emerson’s car,” I said as she let herself out the back passenger door.

She didn’t answer, so I watched to be sure she did as I said. Without a glance at Emerson or her kids, Evelyn walked to the front of the vehicles, her mind fully on the birds, I would bet, then ran toward the chicken coop to do her morning chores.

“Let’s go, Ruby.”

I got out and opened my daughter’s door so she could climb down. She raced around to the passenger side of Emerson’s vehicle, likely looking for Xavier.

“Around the front, Ruby!” I called out. “We don’t go behind cars, remember?”

“Sorry, Daddy!”

Luckily Emerson wasn’t going anywhere, but I wondered how many times a parent needed to repeat the same thing for a kid to finally hear it and follow it. Three or four thousand was my guess.

I made it to Emerson’s door without her getting out. When I got there, I saw why. Her four-year-old daughter, Skyler, was curled up in Emerson’s lap, her head tucked into Emerson’s shoulder.

I heard the door on the other side open, and Ruby and Xavier, who were thick as thieves whenever they were together, ran toward the house, wrapped up in their conversation. Emerson’s dog, Nugget, raced after them, around them, in between them, tail wagging, excited to be free of the car.

Finally Emerson opened the door and flashed a smile that was not at all real. Her makeup-free green eyes were tired and concerned. She wore her toffee-colored hair in a messy bun on her head.

“Hey, Ben.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here at eight thirty. I got an emergency call on a distressed mare in labor.”

“It’s totally fine. We were late too. Everything okay with the mare?”

I couldn’t help smiling. “She and her foal are doing well. Everything okay with you?”

As Emerson slid down from the driver’s seat, Skyler clung to her like she was never going to let go. Supporting her daughter with one arm, Emerson reached in and picked up a kid-sized backpack.

“Hi, Skyler,” I said to the back of her head. “Welcome.”

Emerson frowned over her daughter’s head. “She’s sad to leave Kizzy’s house. It’s the only home she remembers having.”

“That’s rough,” I said sympathetically. “I think you’ll like staying here, Sky. It’s like living in the middle of a petting zoo.”

She turned her head to look at me, staying glued to Emerson.

“You like animals, right?” I asked.

She nodded, her eyes wide.

“And you get to share a room with Evelyn. It’ll be like a sleepover every night.”

“I wanna sleep with Mommy,” Skyler said and turned her dark-blond head away from me.

Emerson and I exchanged a look as she said, “We’ll see, baby girl.”

“Let’s get in out of the drizzle. I still need to feed the animals, and I promised my girls pancakes after that.”

Skyler flipped her head back to face me.

“Do you like pancakes?” I asked her.

She nodded. “With lots of maple syrup.”

“We’ve got lots of maple syrup.” I made a mental note that food won out over animals with this little one.

I led them to the house. Once inside, we were swarmed by all three dogs. Fortunately our two knew Emerson’s and got along with her. My two cats, Pixie and Jett, however, were untested. I was sure we’d know soon enough how that would go down, but I didn’t have time to search for the felines right now.

“Let’s go upstairs so you can see the room where you’re staying,” I said to Skyler, wanting to do something, anything, to help Emerson out.

Moving was a lot. Moving right before Thanksgiving had to be extra chaotic.

Emerson’s mother-in-law had put her in a difficult spot by moving to Las Vegas unexpectedly then selling her house, where Emerson and her kids had lived for four years, suddenly. I suspected Emerson would’ve bought it from her mother-in-law had it not been in the Heights, which translated to high dollar. I got the impression the military had taken care of Blake’s widow sufficiently but not at a level where she could afford the bougiest neighborhood in town.

Emerson claimed to be fine with it all and happy for Kizzy, who’d eloped with an old friend, but I wondered how the woman could justify displacing her son’s widow and her grandkids like this.

Our arrangement was temporary, just until the end of the year while Emerson searched for a house, so she and her kids would be somewhat unsettled for the next six weeks. That’d be a challenge for anyone, but for a single parent…

“I wanna sleep with Mommy,” Skyler said again.

Emerson closed her eyes for an almost indiscernible moment, just long enough for me to see she wasn’t as cool and unbothered as she seemed on the surface. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go check it out and unpack Waylon. He’ll want to get comfortable, won’t he?” She bent over and slid her daughter to her feet, then handed her the backpack.

Waylon? My brows went up. Was there a critter I hadn’t accounted for? I was a chronic rescuer, but even I could admit we were nearing max occupancy at the Holloway homestead.

“Her plush elephant,” Emerson explained, grinning. “He doesn’t eat much.”

I let out my breath and smiled back at her. “Plush elephants we can handle. So…laundry’s in that bathroom.” I pointed into the room off the kitchen. “Use it whenever you want.”

Emerson had been to my house before. She and her kids had lived in town since Blake’s death. We sometimes watched each other’s kids, but she hadn’t spent a lot of time here. I wanted her and Skyler and Xavier to feel completely at home. Blake and I had been friends since we were three, and it was a no-brainer for me to help Emerson out whenever she needed me—or my house.

From the kitchen, we went into the dining room to access the stairs. Skyler walked over to my bedroom doorway.

“That’s my room,” I told her. “Everyone else’s is upstairs.”

“It’s off the dining room?” Emerson asked.

“Welcome to the early 1900s,” I said. “The layout is awkward. My efforts went into building the clinic first. I was hoping to tackle house updates before now, but I haven’t had time to think about it.”

“I get that. Life is…a lot. This place has a certain charm the way it is though.”

“There’s lots of room upstairs. Come on up.”

We went upstairs, where I could hear Ruby and Xavier in her room. All three dogs followed us up and joined us on our three-minute tour.

“I’ve got you in here,” I told Emerson. I opened the door and let her precede me into the small but cozy room with a ceiling that angled in on both sides.

“This is adorable.” Emerson tilted her head at me. “Did you do it up just for me?”

“I’ve been meaning to make it into a guest room anyway,” I said, which was the truth.

“It’s very feminine. Do you have a lot of female guests?” she teased.

“Just one.”

Her smile disappeared, which made mine grow.

“Her name is Grandma Berty. She doesn’t normally sleep here though. She drives home even on nights like last night, when I don’t get back till midnight. I don’t like her out that late. So eventually, this will be hers when she needs it.”

I showed them the bathroom, Ruby’s room, where Xavier was making himself at home, having lugged in his suitcase from the car, and finally Evelyn and Skyler’s room.

“You two get the biggest room,” I told Skyler.

Emerson went in and sat on the floor, pulling her daughter to her lap and making a production of unpacking Waylon.

“Sorry to desert you, but I’ve got hungry horses and llamas,” I said, noticing it was nearly ten a.m.

“Go. We’re fine.”

“Evelyn will be done with the chickens in a few minutes. She can show you around in more detail.”

“We’ll grab our suitcases in a few.” Emerson checked her watch. “I have to meet the movers at noon.”

I headed downstairs with Nugget following me. Pixie, our gray former runt who now weighed seventeen pounds, was at the foot of the stairs, probably wondering what all the commotion was. When she saw that the dog wasn’t one of our approved family members, she went into a defensive stance and hissed.

The dog, who’d probably not met a cat before, went right up to Pixie and sniffed, which got her a swipe across the nose before the cat hightailed it into my bedroom.

I patted the dog, who looked up at me in confusion, wondering why she couldn’t be friends with every living thing. Then I closed my bedroom door, hoping both cats were in there and that they wouldn’t need the litter box for the next hour.

When I stepped outside, the cold rain had intensified, but I didn’t care. I walked out into it and breathed in the relative silence. I loved my daughters more than anything in the world, but life with them—and all our animals—was loud. Sometimes I craved quiet more than a Meat-astic Pizza from Humble’s.

The light in the chicken house was on, telling me Evelyn was still doing her chores. With full confidence she was okay, I entered the barn and inhaled the smell, a mix of animal, wood, humidity, and yes, manure, and my shoulders loosened. The barn was my sanctuary, feeding the horses and llamas my meditation. The aroma had the power to lower my stress level instantly.

“Hey, Smoky.” I rubbed the black quarter horse’s sleek neck. “I know you’re hungry, boy. I’m on it.”

Freckles and Bay Leaf, in the next stalls, were also impatient for their breakfast, so I made quick work of getting all three of them fed and watered. Next I took care of Betty and Esmerelda, making sure everyone had enough feed and water for the day.

My friends gave me shit for adopting so many animals, calling me a sucker and saying one more adoption would put me over the edge. I had a lot on my plate for sure, and I could cop to having a tried-and-true soft spot for creatures in need of a home, but I never took in someone on a whim.

At least I hadn’t until I’d invited Emerson and her kids to stay with us.

We’d been at the grand opening for Earthly Charm when she’d taken the call from Kizzy and learned Kizzy had an incredible preemptive, time-sensitive offer on her home in the Heights. Emerson had graciously, in my opinion, told her mother-in-law to accept. When she’d ended the call, I’d seen reality start to settle in as she realized what a tight spot that put her in, so of course I’d offered them a place to stay. How could I not?

I’d been too busy to really think about the implications in the two and a half weeks since, aside from figuring out who would sleep where. Until now, it’d all been logistics.

Now I was realizing how much I’d bitten off—three more personalities to weave into our daily life…plus a dog. We’d already moved her six hens in with our brood. Our family’s schedule could be irregular due to my unpredictable work. Today was a perfect example.

Which reminded me, there were five people in my house waiting for pancakes. As I finished up with the outside animals, I shoved down the fatigue and ignored that depleted, post-adrenaline-crash feeling. The day was young, and resting was a myth.

I bent down and scratched two of the barn cats between the ears, told the horses and llamas goodbye, and headed to the house, wondering what kind of chaos I’d walk into.

As I opened the door to the kitchen, the first things I registered were the smell of bacon and the sizzle of food on the stove. I froze and took in the scene.

Emerson was at the stove, flipping bacon in a skillet and eyeing the griddle, where golden pancakes were fluffing up. Skyler was in the adjoining dining room, setting the table. My mouth fell open as I leaned against the door behind me.

“You’re incredible,” I said, stunned and so fucking grateful.

She turned and smiled as she met my gaze with her pretty eyes.

I realized I should’ve said This is incredible instead. That was slightly less personal. Because for the next six weeks, I’d be living with my late best friend’s wife, who I’d had feelings for a lifetime ago.

“You seem to be having a crazy day,” Emerson said, “and part of that’s because you’re taking us in. This is the least I could do.”

I made a point of turning my attention to the food. “Better be careful. I could get used to this.”

I said it as a joke, but truer words had never been spoken.

I needed to be cautious, and I needed to not get used to any of this.