the truck, tossing her purple, glittery backpack onto the floor before throwing her arms around her dad’s neck for a quick hug. “Hi, Dad.”
“Good morning, beautiful girl,” he said, hugging her to him and inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo mixed with a hint of maple syrup. “Did you have fun with Gramps and Grandma last night?” He glanced at the house and offered a wave to his mom, who stood in the doorway. She waved back, then her eyebrows lowered as she raised her outstretched thumb and pinkie to the side of her face and mouthed Call me later.
Uh-oh. Brody didn’t like the sound of that. She hadn’t given any indication what she wanted to talk to him about, but she was his mom. He could read her expressions from a mile away, and the tight set of her jaw told him he wasn’t going to like the conversation.
“Yeah, it was fine. Grandma and I finished working on our costumes for the Hay Day Celebration. Shamus is going to look so cute.”
“I’m sure you both will. I’ll bet you’ll be the cutest girl-and-mini-horse team in the costume competition.”
“I hope so.” She held up her crossed fingers. “Grandma did a really good job on the sewing.”
“I know the costume competition is important to you, but there’s other things to do at Hay Day. I want you to have fun at the whole celebration.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I will. It’s one of my favorite parts of summer.” She dropped into her seat and buckled her seat belt. “Oh, and guess what. I beat Gramps at Uno for like four games in a row.” She wrinkled her forehead. “I still can’t tell if he’s letting me win or if he’s just not trying hard enough.”
Brody chuckled and pulled onto the road. “Who cares? I can’t believe you got him to play four games in a row. Especially if he was losing.”
“Good point.” She turned in her seat, her eyes drawn with concern. “Hey, I heard Gramps say there was a fire in town last night.”
“Yeah, there was. I was there.”
“You? Why?”
“I was at the diner when we heard about it, and I went over to help.”
“What happened? Was it a bad one?”
“Not too bad. It could have been worse, but no one got hurt at least.” He put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “It was Elle Brooks’s house.”
Mandy gasped. “Oh no. Is she okay?”
Mandy had spent more time with Elle than he had. She’d done a girls’ night sleepover with her and Bryn the month before, when he’d had an out-of-town conference. His daughter thought highly of her, talking nonstop of the mother dog and the puppies Elle had helped to rescue, and even at her young age, Mandy proved to be quite a good judge of character. Although how could his daughter not love a woman who saved puppies, treated for pizza, and taught her how to apply a beauty mask?
Beauty masks? Another weird woman thing he had no clue about. And only one of many. He was beyond thankful for his mom and the help she offered as his daughter was quickly transforming into a preteen. His gut clenched at the hope that his mom’s phone call didn’t have to do with any of that.
Oh no. What if Mandy had started her period? No—she was still a little girl.
He was a doctor, for Pete’s sake. He could explain menses and knew the reproductive system details of numerous species, but he fumbled like a nervous quarterback when it came to the notion of all that and his little girl.
“Yeah, she’s okay,” he said, pushing away the thoughts. “A bit shaken up, but she seemed all right. She stayed at Bryn’s last night.”
“We should stop over there and check on her before we go home.”
He raised an eyebrow as he snuck a glance at her. “Check on Elle or check on the puppies?” He may not be great at conversations about periods, but he knew his daughter and knew she’d been eyeing one of the rescued puppies. Hardly an hour went by that she didn’t find a way to drop the little black-and-gray puppy into their conversation.
“Both,” she said, then giggled as he reached over to tickle her side.
The sound of her laughter filled the truck as he turned down the highway toward Bryn’s farm. And despite his moments’ earlier declaration to push Elle from his mind, his stomach had just done a funny, little jump at the thought of seeing