23. Gunnar

Chapter 23

Gunnar

" S o what does this mean?" Callie asks, pointing to an equation I ain't ever seen in my life.

"Shit," I grunt, running my hand across my forehead. "No idea. Should we google?"

Callie levels me with her deadpan stare, the same look her mom used to be able to flash at me. Of course, she didn't do it much at the end. She was barely aware of the world around her by that point. That was six years ago. We weren't together. Hell, Callie barely had a relationship with her since she chose drugs over her own daughter, but the both of us still felt the loss like a ton of bricks. Shit like that don't happen in Steele often, and when it does, it's the talk of the town. Drugs never used to be an issue here, but like many small towns, it leached in. Now, it's not uncommon to see kids smoking a joint behind the Cowpoke Kitchen. It's not uncommon to see a used needle out beside the Dusty Spur, a little hole-in-the-wall bar down the road from the Boot Skoot. It's even pretty easy to get, much to my dismay.

"We can't google every question," Callie argues, frowning at the homework. "We covered this in class. Why is this so hard?"

"Beats me," Rhett answers where he stands leaning against the doorframe. "I think homework should be illegal."

"Uncle Rhett has a point," Callie declares. "I say we petition the mayor. This is a travesty!"

I can't help but smile at her. "Travesty" is her new favorite word of the week. I think I've heard her use it at least five times today. Her dress seam coming unraveled? A travesty. The school bus running behind a few minutes? Travesty. And now her homework? All travesties.

"Yes, but until it's illegal, you gotta do it," I say pointing to the equation. "Google these. You know that new stuff will even show you how it solves it. It's helpful. Just don't use it for every question once you know how to do it."

"Yeah, yeah," Callie grumbles. "Uncle Colt says math is for heathens. I don't even need math if I wanna be a fashion designer."

"You need to be able to do measurements," I reason. "So yes, you need math. Even Uncle Colt needs math." I shoot a glare over at Colt where he stands by the wall who only grins. Just like him to tell Callie math is useless. She needs to do good in school, so she has every opportunity to get out of this town if she wants to. There ain't any fashion designers in Wyoming. If she wants to be great, she's gotta go somewhere great.

A knock on the door draws all of our eyes. My brows shoot up at the sight of Fable standing in the doorway, her cheeks flushed at the sudden attention on her.

"I'm ready for the honkytonk," she says shyly.

I whistle because hot damn! When she says she's ready, she means it. I was looking forward to her outfit and she sure didn't disappoint. She's wearing acid washed blue jeans, a few tears in the knees that I know came with the purchase rather than actually being worn. A large belt buckle with a horseshoe on it highlights her hips. A plain t-shirt is tucked into the front of her jeans, so the belt buckle is showcased. But the jacket she's wearing? I've seen buckle bunnies less bedazzled than she is. The jacket is chrome-colored leather, hot pink fringe lining the arms and along the back. The hat on her head is like a disco ball and has to weigh a ton but she holds her chin up. Her hair floats softly around her shoulders, perfect for threading fingers into.

"Give us a spin," Rhett commands, grinning.

She does so, holding out her arms and spinning. On the back of the jacket, hot pink bedazzled letters spell out "Cowgirl".

Callie gasps and stands. "I absolutely love your jacket!"

"Thanks," Fable answers. "I made it."

I blink in surprise. "You made that?"

"Yes?" she answers, but it sounds like a question more than anything else. "I've been making all of my clothes."

I notice Colt doesn't look surprised, so he must have already asked. Her costumes? She's been making all of them? Holy shit!

Rhett frowns. "Like you worked on them for months?"

"No. This jacket I finished up literally a few hours ago. It took me two days, though I did have the pieces for it cut prior to coming here. I'm a pretty fast stitcher. I didn't make the jeans I've been wearing, but I made my outfits for the last couple of days."

"You're just in there making whole ass outfits?" I ask. "And helping on the ranch at the same time?"

Colt straightens. "I didn't realize you were making them that fast."

"Well, I mentioned I like cosplay?—"

"But you didn't mention you were making them," Rhett says, surprise still on his face. "They don't look homemade at all!"

"Well. . . thank you?" she answers nervously.

"I think you look amazing," Callie says, gushing. "I want a jacket just like that. It's so pretty!"

Fable comes further into the room and leans down when she's close to Callie. "I can make you one if you'd like."

Callie's eyes go round. "You'd do that for me?"

"In any color," Fable nods.

Callie squeals and leaps into Fable's arms. I tense, not because Fable looks unsteady for a minute, but because she's close to Callie. I trust very few people with my daughter, and while Fable is slowly earning her way onto that list, it still puts me on edge.

"Alright, alright. It's time to go," Rhett declares, clapping his hands together. I notice he's a little more clean cut tonight, a little more put together. Seems like he's trying to make an impression on our guest.

I stand and glance at Callie. "Make sure you're in bed by midnight."

"Yeah, okay," Callie answers with a roll of her eyes. "Make sure you don't come home puking like last time. You're cleaning up whatever mess you make."

I gasp in fake offense. "I always clean up my mess!" She levels me with a look, and I hold up my hands in surrender. "I'll be on my best behavior."

She nods. "Good. Have fun, Fable!"

I immediately go over to Fable and offer her my arm. She takes it, her cheeks flushing and highlighting those pretty freckles dusting her cheeks. Rhett isn't the only one who's dressed up for the night. I'm wearing my nicest jeans and button down. I even cleaned up my boots and hat. I notice Colt looks just as perfect as always though. The man barely knows how to not look pristine. I always figured it was because of the rules he'd had to follow as a cop, but that ain't true since he was like that even as a kid. I think he's just like that, always presentable. It's a kind of mask, just like Rhett's smile is, just like my pranks are. ‘Bout the only one who don't wear a mask around here is Trent, but he stays away from people in general. No need for a mask if you don't ever go anywhere.

Once we're out at the truck, I pat Fable's hand where she has it wrapped around my forearm. "You didn't have to do that," I offer.

I don't think she realizes how much it means to me that she humors Callie. She's always loved the idea of making clothes, but I don't know how to sew to teach her. I'd tried to learn, but I'm shit at it. Colt's too busy to teach her and Rhett and Trent don't know the ass end of a needle, so we'd been kind of hopeless trying to find a way to encourage her creativity. And then here comes Fable, making her own clothes and costumes, and Callie probably now thinks she hung the moon in the sky. The fact that Fable is willing to make her something unique means so much, I can't even express it.

"I know I didn't," Fable answers. "I really don't mind."

"I'll give you some money for the materials?—"

"Nonsense," she cuts me off. "I already have everything I need, and I enjoy what I do." She smiles brightly up at me, and something inside me shifts at the way she looks right now. Fuck, if we weren't standing next to Rhett and Colt right now, I'd kiss her. I ain't ever had the urge to so strong before.

"Well, I appreciate it," I finally say. "She has a sense for fashion, but she doesn't have anyone to share it with."

"She's always welcome to come hang out with my while I'm making stuff. I can show her what I know."

Oh, what the fuck? Now I suddenly have a frog in my throat. Shit. Change the subject. Don't let the emotion out. What was that song Callie used to sing from her movie? Conceal, don't feel? Yeah, that's it.

"She'd like that," I say, my voice a little rougher than I'd like.

Rhett goes to climb in the driver's seat, and I jerk my head up. "Nope. Fable drives. You know that."

"Oh! Right," Rhett nods and instead opens the door wider and gestures for Fable to get up in it. "Your chariot, m'lady."

She laughs and moves over to get up in Rhett's dually.

"What?" Colt says, confused. I realize we probably haven't told him since he hasn't ridden in a vehicle with Fable yet. "Why?"

"She's gotta drive, man. Just let her," I say, helping Fable up before closing the door and moving to the backseat. Rhett already ran around to the passenger seat. Since it's his truck, I can't very well argue.

Colt glances over at Fable and she grimaces. "Ummm. . . it's a long story. I'm sorry if it's inconvenient. I just?—"

"I'm fine with it," Rhett shrugs, cutting off her nervous rambling. "Colt doesn't mind."

Colt climbs into the back seat and slides over into the middle beside me. I glance at him weirdly. "You tryin' to cuddle or somethin'?"

"Trent's coming," he replies.

My eyes widen the same time as Rhett wrenches around in his seat. "Since when does Trent come with us?" he asks.

Colt grins and nods his head toward Fable. She misses the look while she adjusts Rhett's seat, but we sure don't.

"Ah," Rhett says with a grin. "Apparently, we've all got the same idea."

I narrow my eyes on him. Shit. We haven't talked about this, but if he means what I think he means. . . we're all apparently interested in Fable. Shit. Fuck. Compared to Colt, I might stand a chance, especially if you don't take into account the puppies. Trent, well. . . I'm not sure how that's gonna go. But Rhett? Fuck, Rhett is real good at making women fall in love with him. Fable don't seem the kind to fall for his tricks, but who knows. We're gonna have to talk about it soon.

"What are y'all talking about?" Fable asks as she looks in the mirror.

"Nothing," I say smiling at her.

Trent appears on the side of the truck and hops in the passenger side back seat without a word. Colt shifts closer to me to give him more room and we're suddenly cramped in the back seat. Trent is a big motherfucker.

I look over at him, take note how cleaned up he is. There's not a bit of soot on him. I can't remember the last time I saw him without grease or soot spots on his clothes.

Shit.

"Let's go," Rhett says. "Before the live band gets on stage."

Fable drops it in drive, and I settle back into the seat. Game or not, I can't be mad at my friends. After all, Fable Everhart is. . . shew, she's something else. Of course they'd like her, and I ain't gonna compete.

She either wants me or she don't.

But man, if she don't, that's gonna hurt. Just a little.

Maybe a lot.