Page 46 of Stay Wild Darlin’

I stole glances when I thought he wasn’t looking. His jaw tensed when he concentrated. The way he leaned his elbows on the buggy to make Cora laugh. How he always adjusted the brim of his hat before lifting her out of her seat.

I paused in front of a rack of baby clothes.

“Okay, no way,” I said, holding up the tiniest, frilliest dress I’d ever seen—white with pink stitching and little puff sleeves. “Tell me this isn’t the most ridiculous thing in the best way.”

Dalton glanced over and made a face like it physically pained him. “Beau would fight me.”

“Fable would love it.” I grinned, tossing it into the cart anyway.

He snorted under his breath, shaking his head, but didn’t stop me.

We weaved past bibs and bassinets, giggling giraffes and plush elephants until we reached the back of the store where the cribs were lined up like a baby showroom.

“Alright, Cora girl,” I said, lifting her out of her car seat, “let’s test some beds.”

We plopped her into one crib at a time. She kicked the side of one and made a face, flopped sideways in another like she was bored to death, but when I placed her in the light wood crib—smooth edges, simple design, no weird gimmicks—she lit up.

“This one,” I said, already sold.

Dalton leaned over the rail beside her, nodding. “Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s the one.”

I grabbed Cora while Dalton checked out, holding her against my chest as she played with my necklace.

After we fed her again in the back of the car—her snuggled up in my arms while Dalton handed me a bottle and quietly watched—we packed her back into the seat and hit the road toward Lindley.

The drive was quiet. Dalton kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the console. Music played through the speakers—something slow, country, and a little sad. He hummed along under his breath.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye, watched the way his jaw flexed when he changed lanes, how his fingers tapped the steering wheel when the chorus hit.

And I ignored the ache pulling at my chest.

There was a soft knock at my door, and I scrambled, grabbing the sweatshirt off the back of a chair and tugging it on. My hair was a mess, I had no bra on, and I probably looked half asleep, but I opened the door anyway.

Dalton stood there, still in the same jeans and T-shirt from earlier, hat in hand like he wasn’t sure if he should be here.

“Hey.” His eyes flickered over me for a second before settling somewhere near my shoulder.

“Hey,” I echoed, leaning against the doorframe. “Got her down okay?”

“She went out easy. Didn’t fight it tonight.”

“That’s because she had a big day. Crib testing is serious business.”

His mouth pulled into a faint smile.

He wasn’t here to talk about Cora. I could feel it.

“I seem to be fucking up here, darlin’,” he murmured.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Fucking up?” I repeated, my fingers tightening around the edge of the door. “You put your daughter to bed and bought her a crib today. That doesn’t exactly scream failure to me.”

“That ain’t the part I’m talking about.”

His eyes met mine, and I didn’t move.

“I owe you an apology. The way I spoke to you in the truck . . . that wasn’t right.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he kept going.