Page 22 of Stay Wild Darlin’

“Sounds good.”

“We can talk more about the rules in the morning,” he added, pausing in the doorway.

“Sure.” I hugged the sheets to my chest, watching his broad shoulders as he turned to leave. Before I could stop myself, I asked, “Where’s your wife?”

He froze, turning back with a short laugh. “No wife. No girlfriend. Just a single dad trying to make it work.”

Without another word, he stepped out and gently shut the door. A moment later, I heard him close another door down the hall. Exhaling a long breath, I took stock of my room and tried not to dwell on how crazy my life had gotten in the span of a single day.

11

Dalton

“You got the other end?” a familiar voice called out from somewhere in the house.

A thump followed, rattling me awake from the best sleep I’d had in . . . well, forever.

I blinked, trying to get my bearings. My bedroom was lit with warm morning sunlight, the clock on my nightstand showing 9:00. Nine. Shit. Cora usually had me up by six at the latest. Had I slept through her cries? Through the entire morning routine?

A muffled laugh from the hallway drew my attention. “Cora girl, you still supervising Pawpaw and me?”

Pawpaw?

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, stood, and grabbed a wrinkled T-shirt off the chair. My door creaked when I pulled it open, and I stepped into the hall, blinking at the sight in front of me. Poppy and Papa Banks were carrying what looked like a brand-new bed frame inside while Cora bounced in her little seat like this was the most exciting thing she’d ever seen. I moved toward the doorway, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Poppy glanced up, noticing me hovering. “Oh, look who decided to join the land of the living.” She shot me a crooked grin, clearly enjoying my confusion.

“What . . .? The hell’s going on?” My voice came out groggy, still thick with sleep.

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling weirdly off-kilter at finding them all up and busy—in my house, no less—while I’d been passed out like a lazy teenager.

Papa Banks gave me a grin from behind the bed frame. “Mornin’, Dalton. We got an early start. Poppy figured she’d let you sleep in while we got this frame in her room.”

“Cora didn’t wake me,” I said, still trying to wrap my head around the situation. “Usually she’s fussing by six.”

“She did fuss,” Poppy answered as Papa Banks came around the bed frame and hefted the matching nightstand into the room.

“Boy, you gotta get this girl a proper bed,” he muttered, eyeing the mattress on the floor with disapproval before shifting it out of the way.

I stood there, speechless, watching the two of them bustle around my house, while my daughter happily gnawed on her hand in the bouncer.

“Wait, she was fussing?” I asked, finally finding my voice.

Poppy nodded, then lifted one end of the mattress so Papa Banks could help position it on the newly assembled bed frame.

“What happened?” I pressed, baffled that I’d slept through it.

Poppy tossed a glance over her shoulder as she smoothed out the mattress. “I woke up and fed her the bottle you left in the fridge. It was four ounces, and I figured if she needed more, I’d make another, but four did the trick.”

“Did you burp her?” I took a step forward, feeling oddly protective.

Papa Banks chuckled, and Poppy rolled her eyes, wiping her hands on her jeans.

“Of course I did, Dalton,” she said, smirking. “I am your nanny.”

“For now,” I muttered, more unsettled than I cared to admit at how smoothly she’d stepped in. “Who the hell is Pawpaw?”

Poppy’s giggle floated through the air, and it was the sweetest music to my ears.