I sit, taking it all in with my ass in a chair, drinking some new IPA my buddy, Dane, just put on the menu at Happy Daze Tavern. Every time I come to one of these, I'm transported back to when I was the guest of honor all those years ago, front and center with a new baby in my arms. They propped me up there like show and tell with Sydney, only two months old, cradled in my arms. We hadn't even bonded at that point—I was too busy grieving. Too busy drowning in despair for the both of us.

I tip my beer as a hello to Hank from Nail Me Hardware then go back to staring down my now twelve-year-old daughter, watching as she twirls her hair while talking with a boy. Is that maneuver bred into girls or is it ingrained in their DNA? I remember Melissa doing it the first time I met her.

The boy needs to learn what a pair of jeans should look like. They damn well shouldn't be tight around the ankles and his shirt…whatever happened to T-shirts with sports teams or sportswear logos? They’ve been replaced with plain V-neck T-shirts that fit like a second skin. No twelve-year-old boy has the muscles to fill out a shirt like that, let alone Xander, the kid flirting with my daughter.

“Why so glum?” Charlie, the bartender and MC of tonight's fundraiser plops down in the chair next to me.

I down a swig of my beer, eyeing her over the rim of the bottle.

“Ah...the boy.” She follows my line of sight to the table my daughter is now leaning over. If that little shit so much as tries to look down her shirt, he’s toast. “You going to knock him out?” she asks.

I shift my gaze away from my daughter, back to Charlie Rose. Charlotte is her real name, but as long as I've known her, which is close to birth, she's been Charlie. She grew up in this town with her three older brothers, one being my best friend. Well, my best friend until he moved to Los Angeles to live the bachelor life while I continued to raise my daughter solo. All in all, he's a good guy. The entire Rose family was my second family growing up.

“You're unusually chipper tonight,” I comment and take another swig of my beer.

“Well, I'm happy that Ava will be able to re-open the bakery.” She crosses her legs and the small table for two leaves me plenty of room to notice how slender they are.

Charlie grew up years ago. Her breasts developed, her hips expanded, and that tomboy I knew growing up who followed me and her brother Vance around transformed into a beautiful woman.

“I saw your donation. Very nice,” she says.

I nod again and study the label of my beer bottle to stop myself from checking out her legs again.

A long, drawn out sigh leaves her lips. “If you're that bothered by it, go over there and ask her to stop.”

Did I mention, Charlie expresses her opinions?

Openly?

All the time?

The only time I enjoy it is when she's giving Dane shit for something.

“So she can hate me?”

“She'll never hate you. You're her dad,” she says.

I blow out a long breath and roll my eyes just like Sydney does to me constantly these days.

“You don't get it.” I down the rest of my beer, raising my hand for the waitress.

“No waitresses, remember? Fundraiser.” She stands, grabs my bottle and disappears.

Now that I’m alone with my thoughts again, I appraise my daughter who is now sitting back down in her chair, fiddling with her phone, while jackass Xander is doing the same. The difference is, I can't see Sydney's face and Xander has a teasing smile on his. It reminds me of some douche in a locker room bragging about his latest conquest.

I rub my eyes. I have to calm down. She's twelve, not sixteen.

A cold beer is placed in front of me. A Budweiser, my beer of choice.

Charlie plops herself back down at my table.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” She shrugs.

Cat bounces over to the table with six-year-old Lily right next to her. “So, you ready to start?” she asks Charlie, then gives me a sweet half-smile.

Cat is my buddy, Marcus', girlfriend, Lily his daughter from another woman. They fell in love this past summer and I can't deny that I'm a little envious of him. Not that I’d want to put an ‘available now’ sign on my heart after my wife Melissa's passing, but it’s the moments I see them share sometimes when I miss her the most.

The soft kisses they think they're sneaking, or the hand holding on the way out to the car. Hell, even when he opens the door and pulls out the chair for her. I'm not one hundred percent sure it’s the act itself or her soft smile and loving eyes I’d receive in return I miss the most.

Charlie hops to her feet. Always ready to pounce on whatever needs to be done.

“I'll be back.”

I tip my beer in her direction, my gaze shifting back to Syd, finding her by herself, her thumbs flying across the screen of her phone.

It isn't until Charlie's up on stage, under the lights, announcing the first donation to be auctioned off, that I realize the curves of her body have transformed her into a full woman now, which means that honoring her brother's wishes of making sure she ends up with a good guy is going to be even harder for me now.

I shift in my seat trying to get comfortable refusing to believe that my dick is in full chub mode right now because of the girl whose pigtails I used to pull to try to drive her crazy when she was younger.

* * *

I sit for another half hour, sipping a beer and making small talk when I’m forced to. My sour mood has lifted slightly since Xander is now in the arcade with his friends and Syd is surrounded by her friends.

Charlie and Cat are both up on stage trying to get everything organized before the guest of honor arrives.

Charlie approaches the microphone, her eyes wide and matching her smile.

Jumping off the stage, she rushes past me and the crowd follows her back to find Dane and the guest of honor, Ava Pearson. The two look cozy so they must’ve made up. Dane's son, eight-year-old Toby, is asleep in his arms.

After everyone has said their hellos and Ava doesn’t appear as stunned as she did when she first arrived, Cat’s voice sounds out through the microphone.

“Should we get started?” Everyone’s attention is drawn off the couple and up to her on the stage. “The first auction item up for grabs is a two night stay in a real log cabin, generously donated by our very own Garrett Shaw.”

Her hand extends my way, and I reluctantly fold myself out of the chair and walk up to the makeshift stage. A tight smile and my hand smoothing down my beard is about all the audience is going to get from me.

“Let's start the bidding at one hundred dollars.” The words are barely out of Cat’s mouth when Charlie's hand flies up.

“One thousand!” Charlie shouts out. The smile on her face would make you think she just won a grand, not spent it. Something I know she can't afford.

“Sold!” Cat hits the gavel on the lecture pedestal in front of her denying anyone else a chance to bid.

My head turns in Charlie’s direction. She's smiling ear to ear, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet.

What the hell is she thinking?

Cat looks over her shoulder at me, her smile matching Charlie's. What the hell is going on?

I leave the stage and push through the crowd, my determined footsteps echoing out as I make my way to the back of the room and the curly haired girl I’m not going to let waste her money.

“Take it easy on her,” Dane says under his breath as I bypass him, dragging Charlie by the arm toward the bathrooms.

“Stop it,” Charlie demands, and twists her elbow out of my hold.

“What are you doing?”

“Supporting my best friend.” She presses her back up against the wall. I don't miss the way her generously proportioned tits strain against her Happy Daze T-shirt. Dane probably tells her to wear it tight with the hopes that his male customers will buy more drinks. Then again, no one really tells Charlie to do anything.

“There's no way you can afford it.” I lean in closer, lowering my voice. “If you wanted to stay in one of my cabins I would have let you. You just had to ask.”

“That's not the point.” She crosses her arms over her chest, effectively making them that much more enticing to any man in a five-mile radius. “And for your information, I have the money. Not that it's any of your business.”

She pushes off the wall, her eyes narrowed slits as she stares me down before she takes a step away.

“I'll pay the thousand dollars for you and you can stay at the cabin.”

Her head slowly twists in my direction and for a second it’s almost eerie—the way she looks like a robot with how calculated her moves are. “You certainly will not. I'm not some little girl you know. I’m not the baby sister of your best friend who’s too immature to make a rational decision for herself.”

Words of agreement almost leave my mouth. Especially after she turns on her heels and walks away. No guy could argue that her ass is definitely that of a grown woman.

The self-loathing I’m all too familiar with when it comes to Charlie Rose bears down on me and I remind myself…

She's your best friend's little sister.

You promised to watch out for her.

She's young and free, what the fuck would she want with you?

Most of all, I'm damaged. Damaged goods. And she is the perfect package and should stay that way.

* * *

I pull up to my latest cabin on Foxfield Trail, my biggest project yet. Eight bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a pool, a weight room, wrap around deck. It's for multi-families, blended families or just one big ass family. When I had the plans drawn up for it, I thought it was going to be spectacular—instead it's been a pain in my ass.

The permits, the inspections, the investment. Nothing has gone according to plan and when you add on the fact that one of my best subcontractors just ran away with his girlfriend to start a new life elsewhere, you guessed it, I'm about a month behind schedule.

A month behind for Jasper Banks, a client who refers me out like a coke dealer. He and his wife, Lennon, wanted to be the first to occupy the cabin. They’re hosting a family reunion for his wife's side of the family. I've got until two days before Christmas to get the cabin habitable, otherwise, I'm screwed since all my other cabins are already booked.

“George,” I approach the man who took over my last sub’s job.

He wipes his greasy hands on his worn T-shirt that says, Muscles Under Construction.

“Garrett,” he nods and smiles at me, but his voice is on alert.

George is about twenty years my senior. He's from the neighboring town of Wet Rock and started his own company only six months ago after his boss, my ex-subcontractor ran off.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, looking around at an empty cabin that is far from finished.

“We have a few issues.” He wipes his hands on his T-shirt again.

Of course we do. Never once have I walked into this house and not heard that phrase.

“What?” I run my hand down my beard. Most men lose hair on their head, I lose hair on my beard. Especially since starting this cabin.

“Nothing too major,” he stalls.

“Tell me.”

George drops the pen he's trying to slip back into his pocket. He's flustered and my stomach clenches waiting for his response.

“The hot tub is on backorder.”

“Until?” If George wasn't already so flustered I might grab him by that T-shirt and tug him toward me, but I already scare the crap out of him and the last thing I need is for him to leave me stranded at this point. So, I handle him like I do Syd—with gentle hands.

“Three months.” His gaze shoots to the side.

My head falls back and I tuck my hands in my pockets. “Options?”

“You head into Portland or San Francisco, pick another one out, but…”

“But what, George?”

He drops his pen again. “It's also all the tubs and sinks in the house, too.”

I rub my hand down my beard. “How exactly is that possible?”

“The ones you picked are all made by the same company and all the employees went on strike.”

I shake my head, thinking of what to do. Everything was special ordered. “Okay, how far does that push us back?”

“I need measurements of the new stuff before my guys can install the floor and tile.” His gaze continues to play hide and seek with me, never truly meeting mine.

“Fine. I'll figure it out today.”

My phone rings in my pocket.

“Syd,” I mumble, holding it out in my hand. I raise my finger to stop George's rambling before I accept the call. “What's up, Syd?”

“Dad,” she doesn’t say anything else, but the soft tremble in her voice starts my heart racing.

“What is it?”

“Um...”

“Syd!” my voice goes up another octave.

“I, um...”

My hand runs down my beard and I’m sure another bunch of hair must sprinkle to the floor.

“Are you okay?” I ask, desperate to know what’s going on.

“Yeah. I um, I…”

“Do you need me?”

“I got my period,” she blurts out.

I’m momentarily stunned but my heart apparently got the message because my heart rate skyrockets like I was just shot out of a cannon.

I angle my body away from George. “Period?” I whisper into the phone.

“Yeah, and I need some things.”

Fuck. I can't deny I've thought about this moment before, known it had to be coming at some point soon, but for whatever reason, I never pictured myself at the store buying them for her.

“Okay, okay, I can do that.” I may be trying to convince myself that I can handle this more than her.

“The nurse is out...please Dad.” My baby girl's voice is really trembling now. This is the first time in forever that I’ve felt like she truly needed me. I can’t screw this up.

Long gone are the days of rescuing her from the monkey bars when she was scared to jump, or holding her bike as she learned to ride on two wheels. Lately, my only use to her has been to pay for her cell phone and feed her stomach.

“I'll be right there,” I say.

“Okay.”

We hang up and I don't bother explaining to George where I’m headed as I walk toward the door of the cabin.

“So, you'll let me—”

I put my hand in the air. “I've got it handled, George.”

I walk out the front door of the cabin with one mission, to save my baby girl, but that was before I knew there were so many choices in the feminine product aisle.