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“Are you all right, baby? Are you hurt?” he asked, turning to her as the deer ran off.
She gaped at him.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Maybe she had whiplash. He hadn’t been going that fast. He’d seen the signs warning about wild deer in the area and had been taking it pretty easy.
Still, she was far more delicate than he was.
“Where are you hurt?” he demanded as he reached for his seatbelt.
“I’m not hurt,” she said. “You put your arm out.”
“Yeah. Didn’t want you to fling forward and get hurt.”
“And then you called me baby.” There was a note of wonder in her voice. “You’ve never called me baby before.”
He’d never called anyone ‘baby’ before who wasn’t an actual baby. The truth was, he’d always thought that endearments were a bit weird. But, well, she was his baby. His Little girl.
His everything.
“That’s because you are my baby,” he told her as he saw Webb get out of the truck behind them.
He opened the window and waved him back, then started moving the truck again.
“You sure you’re not hurt?”
“No. No, I’m fine. You took care of me.”
“And I always will.”
About ten minutes later, they pulled up into a small parking area at the bottom of some hills. It was tucked in behind some trees. There waiting for them were Kirsten and Hank, the guy from the Rage Ranch.
“Did Kirsten stay with Hank last night?” she said, sitting up straight.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Hmm, that’s interesting, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. Is it?” he replied.
“Come on, you’ve got to wonder how well she knows Hank, right? I mean, she’s mentioned him a few times, but she’s never said too much about him.”
Ammo groaned. “God, you’re not planning on matchmaking, are you?”
“Well, maybe I don’t even need to matchmake. Maybe she and Hank have got something going on. It’s been a long time since Kirsten’s husband died. It’s good if she’s found somebody who makes her happy.”
“Ahh, I meant to ask you about that. He died?”
“Yeah, of cancer. It was really sad. Rob was a good guy. Hopefully Hank is too.”
“They could just be friends.” He turned to Aimee and grasped hold of her chin, spinning her face toward him. “You will not matchmake.”
“Excuse me, Pierce Grayson. You don’t get to tell me that I can’t matchmake for my best friend.”
“And you will not use that name either. My name is Ammo, Sir, or Daddy to you.”
“Why don’t you like the name Pierce?” she asked.
“It was my father’s name.” And he didn’t like thinking about him. He braced himself for more questions from her but she didn’t ask him anything more about that.
