Grumpy Cowboy (Single Dad Collection)

“Can you braid my hair after?” she asks excitedly, rocking up onto her toes and clasping her hands in front of herself.

“Definitely,” I agree. “That sounds like a perfect plan. And when it dries, it’ll have a pretty wave in it for tomorrow.”

“Eeep!” she squeals with enthusiasm before taking off down the hall.

This certainly isn’t the plan I had for the evening, but somehow, it feels as if it’s transformed into something better.

My T-shirt hangs off Joey’s shoulders and just about drags on the floor, but she looks excited to be wearing the mark of Adam Levine’s face even if she doesn’t know who he is.

It’s the kind of sleepover magic every girl feels the first time she spends her night doing unexpected and girlie things.

Over the last hour and a half, I’ve stood outside of the bathroom shower curtain while she shouted questions through it to me during her shower, braided her hair, and painted her nails with the light pink polish she found on my nightstand.

And I’ve laughed more than I can remember in the last five years, and I’ve done it with a human who’s only existed for that long.

I don’t know what that says about my social life of the recent past, but as Joey flashes her nails and spins in a circle in my T-shirt, I can’t really find even an ounce of flesh inside me that cares.

“Do I look like you?” she asks with a giggle that just about turns my chest into molten lava. I’ve never really meant something to a kid, what with my only sibling taking his time settling down just like me, but the way they look at you with this unconditional reverence…it’s no wonder people decide to have them.

“Almost exactly. Except way cuter.”

She giggles again and jumps up onto the couch with a twist. I scroll through the shelves of DVDs and eventually come upon Tangled. I’m not too ashamed to admit this is one of my favorite kids’ movies, and I saw it in the theater all by myself when it came out.

It was mostly because, as a child of my generation, I loved Mandy Moore.

But I left the stadium seating of the AMC 15 in Salt Lake City with a whole hell of a lot more than I bargained for and a forever love for Rapunzel.

“Have you seen Tangled?” I ask, holding it up so she can see the case.

“Yes! It’s one of my favorites!”

I smile. “Mine too. How about you load it up in the player, and I’ll make us some popcorn?”

“Ohh! Yes! Extra butter!”

“You got it. Extra butter coming up!”

If I were this child’s mother, I’d probably need to concern myself with including some sort of healthy option along with the fat-smothered popcorn, but I’m not. And plus, this is a sleepover. If this isn’t a time to eat your weight in junk food, I don’t know what is.

I skip-run into the kitchen and grab two of the biggest bowls I can find from the cabinet while Joey bounds over to the DVD player and gets it going.

Next, I grab the popcorn packs and place one in the microwave, dig in the fridge for some beverages, and when I spot a lone cucumber on the shelf from my most recent well-intentioned grocery run, glance back at Joey. She’s got the movie cued up and is waiting patiently, but she also looks like she’s had a pretty long day.

Mayyybe it’s not such a bad idea to include something nutritious.

With a huff, I grab the cucumber and a knife from the drawer and make quick work of cutting it into slices.

“Okay, this is weird, Leah,” I mutter to myself quietly. “You’re officially doing weird things because of weird, compulsion-like feelings. This should probably be assessed by a mental health professional at your earliest convenience.”

“What did you say?” a tiny voice suddenly asks from my side, making me jump what feels like ten feet in the air and almost drop the knife. I glance down at Joey, wide-eyed and excited, and I toss the knife into the sink before I can come close to slicing off my finger again.

“Nothing, sweetie,” I lie, hoping to all hell that she didn’t actually hear what I was saying. “Is the movie ready to go?”

“Uh-huh,” she agrees with a nod. “All we need is the popcorn.”

“Here, why don’t you take this glass of lemonade in there for yourself, and I’ll bring in the popcorn and cucumbers when the microwave goes off.”

“Popcorn and cucumbers?”

I nod, licking my lips. “Yep.”

“Is that…like…something you normally eat together?”

“Definitely,” I find myself lying. God, Leah. “It’s something everyone eats in Salt Lake City.”

“Oh,” she accepts with a nod. “Okay.”

I smile as she tiptoes into the living room while holding the glass of lemonade with two hands, and I finish up everything for the food.