Page 12 of The Beekeeper

“Blaze…”

“Yeah, I’m here,” I said, realizing I’d spaced out into the fog of my frustrations.

“The sooner I get back with the information, the better it will look.”

“I know.”

“How soon can you get to the inn?”

My jaw flexed. “Thirty minutes.”

“See you then.”

Paisley was going to be devastated to have to leave so soon after we got here, and it was all I could think about as I walked to the hives. Maybe it would be okay for us to come back tomorrow. Or Saturday.

I reached the break in the tree line, taking only a second to find the two of them in front of one of the tall, rectangular boxes.

The top was off and in her gloved hands, Harper held what looked like a shelf from inside. She was pointing to something, I assumed the queen, and Paisley stood enrapt.

Every step I took was like another fifty pounds was added to my ankles, knowing I was about to disappoint my kid so hard.

“Hey, Pais…”

“Daddy!” my daughter squealed. “Look! It’s the queen. Come meet her!”

I opened my mouth and then promptly shut it. What was another minute or two if it meant keeping her smile for longer?

“All right.” I went over to them, trying my best to ignore Harper because my body definitely wouldn’t. It pulled me toward her like an addiction for something I hadn’t tasted yet. No. There was no yet. There couldn’t be.

“Wait! First, you have to bow,” Paisley explained.

I fought to suppress my smile. “Of course.”

I stood tall, drawing my back ramrod straight, and then, with my arms stiff by my sides and a British accent, I took a deep bow forward and drawled, “Your Majesty.”

Paisley’s giggles floated like champagne bubbles around me, and that was it. That was the reason I’d go through every circle of hell for her—for her happiness.

But right now, it was a bubble I was going to temporarily have to burst.

“Hey, Pais.” I dropped to a crouch. “How would you feel about going to see Uncle Wade right now?”

“Now?” Her brows pinched together.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t want to go now.” A glaze drenched her eyes, promising tears were next.

“I know, but I have to go talk to Uncle Wade about some important things. Maybe if we ask nicely, Harper will let us come back for a visit tomorrow?”

Harper’s jaw yo-yoed for a second before she blurted, “Of course. You’re welcome⁠—”

“B-but I don’t want to come back tomorrow. I-I w-want to s-s-stay now.” And then the first sob broke through.

“I know, pumpkin. I’m so sorry, but I have to talk to Uncle Wade, and I can’t⁠—”

“She could stay with me,” Harper interrupted. “I mean, I can watch her if you need to go.”

I stilled, absorbing her suggestion. Meanwhile, it worked like a light switch for Paisley’s tears.