Every Little Kiss (Sequoia Lake Book 2)

by Marina Adair

  And Paxton missed his dad.

  He’d promised to put the family first and make a valid effort to be home for family dinners and important dates—and Liv believed him. Then the surgery was moved to Christmas Day, and he wanted Liv to change her schedule to go with him to see his parents on Christmas Eve.

  She’d put her foot down. Told him to take Paxton to Sequoia Lake to celebrate with his parents, and they could do a quick present opening Christmas morning as a family before he flew down to Vegas. But when he got home, they would need to have to have a serious talk.

  “Do you think that’s why she always rents a cottage instead of staying here?” Grace asked.

  “I think she sold the house because it reminded her too much of Sam, and now it hurts for her to see how much the house has changed,” Liv said. “I just don’t know how to make her understand that by moving to Palm Beach, she’s missing out on the biggest part of Sam.”

  “It’s sad, but that’s her choice,” Grace said, setting the paintbrush down.

  “Her choice or not, Paxton is missing out too,” Liv said, thinking about how awkward and uncomfortable it was when the three of them were in the room together. “He won’t even talk to me if he thinks she’s in the house, and she’s too busy judging my parenting skills to see how far he’s come. It’s this horrible cycle that’s only getting worse. I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “Then stop trying to fix it,” Avery said, as if it were that easy.

  “And what? Let Paxton miss out on how amazing it could be having a grandparent? No way. I know what it’s like to grow up with just a mom, and I remember what it was like when I lost her. I don’t want that for Paxton.”

  “But this isn’t amazing,” Avery said gently. “And before you give me that look, hear me out. You’re a nurturer—that’s what you do. You want to make sure everyone is taken care of, and taken care of right.” Even though Avery made her sound a little like a control freak, Liv decided to take that as a compliment. “But if you’re always smoothing things over, it will never get hard enough for him to push through the fear.”

  “Exactly—Paxton’s had enough hard in his life.”

  “So has Carolyn, and they’ve both pushed through. I bet if you remove yourself from the middle, they’d be forced to work this out too. At some point, Carolyn will have to see that she can’t force Paxton to be someone he’s not ready to be. And Paxton will get tired of eating tuna casserole because he’s too scared to say her casseroles are toxic.”

  Liv’s brain said it was a logical solution, one worth experimenting with. But fear reminded her just how easy it was for Paxton to close back up. School started in just a few weeks, and she didn’t want to risk losing what they’d worked so hard to gain.

  “Are you saying I should agree to let her take him to Florida for a few days?” Liv asked, her mouth going dry.

  “At some point, but how about starting with a sleepover. A normal grandmother-grandson thing to do,” Avery suggested. “She’s right down the lake—let her take him for the night. What’s the worst that could happen? They don’t talk and things remain the same, or something changes in the situation and they have to address it.”

  Panic soured her stomach just thinking about it. “And what if he’s having an awful time or he gets sick? It’s not like he’ll tell her, and she won’t call me.”

  “She shouldn’t. It’s his first sleepover at his grandma’s—it’s supposed to be awful for both of them.” Grace laughed. “By design, trips to the grandparents’ include things such as watching morning talk shows, eating casseroles, and sleeping in a bedroom that smells like mothballs. But they also include learning cool games to impress your friends, like poker and blackjack, sneaking into the candy jar to find leftover mints from restaurants, and getting to understand a different generation.”

  “And getting to know more about his father.”

  Grace placed her finger to her nose. “Bingo.”

  It was often difficult for her to see the difference between Paxton being uncomfortable because of his disorder and being uncomfortable like every other six-year-old. Maybe this was a simple rite of passage.

  Letting him spread his wings, like she had hers.

  “Look at you,” Avery said, giving her shoulders a shimmy. “You had your first sleepover and came home early, but I didn’t hear you complaining.”

  Her face heated at the reminder. “It wasn’t a sleepover. It was a friendly dinner.”

  “I need more friends like that,” Grace said dreamily. “I should try ordering from your Chinese place. All I ever get is fortune cookies telling me, ‘Your future is around the next corner.’ Did you know if you keep looking around corners you’ll end up in the same place you started?”

  All three women looked up at what sounded like a mini Running of the Bulls stampeding through her front door. The skidding and stomping drew to a close, and Paxton slid into the kitchen.

  “Mommy,” he said, vibrating with excitement, “guess what Bullseye and I just . . .”

  Paxton’s face went slack, and his eyes swung from Liv to Avery to Grace, and back to Liv, his little mouth hanging open with the word still right there on his tongue. The joy slid down his face, caving in and bringing his confidence with it.

  It was as if he’d been doused in ice-cold water. Grace put an encouraging smile on her face, and Avery said, “Hey, Pax.”

  But Paxton didn’t talk back. His lips closed and his gaze slowly began to sink toward the ground, and Liv wanted to wrap him up in her arms and tell him it was okay. But he hated it when she babied him, so she deflected the attention off him. “We’re working on the cool eye masks.”

  “They are cool,” a smooth and sexy voice said. “But not as cool as this trick Paxton just taught Bullseye.”

  Behind Paxton, looking larger than life, stood Ford with Bullseye at his side. He was wearing flip-flops, board shorts, and a T-shirt that clung to him. His nose was pink as if he’d been on the water, and his hair was damp, finger-combed at best, and just looking at him made her mouth go dry.

  Which was the exact opposite of what was going on beneath the table. “The trick?”

  “A general’s salute,” Ford said coolly, his eyes on Liv. “I came out of the lake and found Pax and Bullseye playing. And I asked him what they were playing, and Paxton said the Lone Ranger, so we came up with a cool trick so Bullseye could feel more a part of the game. And Paxton helped him out. Watch.

  “Bullseye, come.” Ford pointed to the ground, and Bullseye sat in the exact spot.

  “Is that how he talks during these friendly dinners?” Grace whispered.

  Liv didn’t answer. She was too busy watching Ford control his world in a way that allowed for others to find their freedom. “Now, Paxton, he’s going to need you to give him the order.”

  Paxton looked up at Ford, and his face fell because he was afraid that if he didn’t talk, this fun day would be over. But if he tried and couldn’t, it would be even worse. So when Paxton took on that far-off stare that always made Liv nervous, she wanted to ask if maybe Ford could show them.

  But Ford knelt down in front of Paxton, a mountain of calm confidence and gentle understanding, and something inside Liv told her to hold back.

  “He wants to do the trick,” Ford said right to Paxton. “But he needs you to tell him what to do.”

  There was no question mark at the end, but he wasn’t ordering Paxton either. Ford was simply stating what needed to happen, then assuming Paxton could handle the task.

  Paxton looked at Bullseye, and when he was about to look back at Liv and the guests, Ford did the most amazing thing. He moved with Paxton, staying in his line of sight and retaining his attention. “Do you need anything from me first?”

  Heart in her throat, Liv watched in silence as Paxton shook his head.

  “All right, then just have him sit, and you know the rest.”

  Paxton turned to face Bullseye, who was on his side on the floor. As soon as Paxto
n made eye contact, the dog stood up. Paxton stood taller, and taking a big breath, he said, “Sit.” And the dog sat. “Good boy. Salute.”

  Paxton stuck his hand on his forehead in example, and Bullseye saluted. The table erupted in applause, and when Paxton turned around, he didn’t look scared. He looked proud.

  Happy.

  Liv hopped up to give him a big hug, but Ford slid her a gentle look. “Good job, Bullseye. Look at all the pretty ladies who want to hug you.” Then he turned to Paxton and lifted his hand. “That was awesome.”

  “Awesome,” Paxton said, smacking Ford a high five.

  And Liv understood. For Paxton the reward wasn’t the praise—it was being treated like any normal kid who’d taught a dog a trick.

  “Amazing,” Liv said to Paxton, her gaze locking with Ford.

  With a toothy grin, Paxton grabbed Bullseye’s leash and ran back out the front door, joyous laughter rising in his wake.

  Ford stood on the threshold silently looking at Liv, which worked for her because she couldn’t stop looking at him. Her friends, she noticed, were looking at what was happening, so Liv excused herself and walked Ford into the other room.

  “I feel like I keep saying thank you, but thank you.”

  “He’s a strong kid, Liv. And you’ve done a great job,” he said, brushing his knuckles against her fingers. “I’d better go grab Bullseye. He stole one of your masks.”

  “That one’s all his,” Liv said, wondering what it would take to make the man in front of her all hers. “I have five hundred more if you want one too?”

  His lips twitched. “You into outlaws, cupcake?”

  Her entire body reacted. But Liv knew better. He might flirt like an outlaw and even go from town to town looking for trouble like an outlaw, but Ford didn’t have the heart of an outlaw, because while he appeared to be a lone gun, Ford craved deep connections.

  Otherwise he wouldn’t make a point to keep checking in on his friends. Ford was on the outside of all his relationships looking in, just waiting for an invitation.

  “I’m into you,” she said, pressing her hands to his chest, and he groaned.

  “A statement I’d love to explore.” Ford grabbed the loops on her pants and tugged her close, her nipples perking up for a nice hello. “In a place that doesn’t have so many ears listening.”

  Liv turned to find both Avery and Grace craning their necks to peek. “How about that dinner you promised? I have Saturday night off. I just need to see if Carolyn is free to take Paxton home after camp.”

  “You’re going to ask Carolyn to sit while you go out on a date?”

  “No, I’m going to ask Carolyn if she wants to spend some time with her grandson. Celebrate his big day.” Spread her wings.

  “I work until four,” he said—to her mouth.

  “Does that mean you’ll be showing up in uniform?”

  “Only if you agree to play assisting nurse,” he said, and with that he walked out the door.

  Saturday, Ford had finished his second dog-training class, surprised to find that his students had shown up prepared, eager—and all in matching WAG AND WADDLE PATROL shirts and vests. The dogs in vests, the ladies in shirts, and everyone in neon pink—Dorothy had overseen the design.

  They’d focused on dog cues and managed to get though leash techniques with only three inappropriate comments from Mavis. When it was over, the ladies presented him with a shirt of his own.

  Which was how he found himself driving to Liv’s house in a pink muscle shirt that read LEASH MASTER.

  Liv.

  He’d spent most of his week on the phone, burning through his network of search-and-rescue guys trying to find a few willing to work the ropes course—for free. And the rest of it fantasizing about his dinner with Liv.

  The one they’d shared and the one that was yet to come.

  He hadn’t heard confirmation yet—she’d said she was going to talk with Carolyn—but that had been three days ago. Oh, they’d shared a few sexts and some pretty steamy calls, even bumped into each other at the market—her basket was full of cupcakes, string cheese, and macaroni and cheese. Boxed. He didn’t have a basket. Just a toothbrush and a box of condoms.

  She gave him one of her cupcakes. He gave her a kiss that had her vowing to talk to Carolyn.

  Ford was considering asking one of his Wag and Waddlers to sit, but after spending the morning with them, he was looking forward to a quiet afternoon at home.

  A hot shower followed by a cold beer and a game on the jumbo flat-screen. Old Man Keller might be old, but the man knew his electronics.

  But as he came up on his own driveway and saw a bunch of kids sitting on his lawn, Ford pulled over. Then he swore. These weren’t just any kids. They were giggling, frolicking, female kids dressed in tutus and tiaras.

  Then he saw a big blow-up castle in his driveway with Emma bouncing for her life, and Ford got a bad feeling in his chest. He threw his car into park and opened his door.

  The moment his foot hit concrete, Emma raced over, squealing, “You’re here! Did Daddy tell you we get to play dress-up? Real dress-up, with makeup and boas and plastic princess heels.”

  “Where is Daddy?” he asked, letting Bullseye out of the truck.

  “He saw you drive up and went in the house,” Emma explained with a toothy grin. “Can Bullseye play dress-up too? We want him to be our prince.”

  “Go on, Bullseye.” Bullseye glanced at the herd of princesses and looked up at Ford as if he’d rather play with a litter of kittens. “You cuddle with a pink lamb—now go.”

  With a huff, Bullseye went with Emma. And Ford went to find Harris.

  He didn’t have to look long. The fucker was sprawled out on the couch, cold beer in hand, feet on the coffee table—making himself right at home.

  Even worse, Ty was in the recliner, the only piece of furniture Ford used in the house besides the bed.

  “Nice shirt,” Harris said when Ford approached. “I think Emma has a headband that would match it. You should ask her about it.”

  “That better not be my beer.” Neither of them responded. He took in the empty pizza boxes, the cooler filled with soda cans and juice boxes, and pointed to the purple whoops-I-squeezed-too-hard stain on the rug. “What’s that?”

  “That, my friend, is me cashing in on the favor you owe me.”

  “I said I’d babysit Emma—not her whole dance class.”

  “Actually,” Harris said, lifting a piece of pizza to his lips, “you said anything.”

  “Food stays in the kitchen,” Ford said, snatching the pizza away and taking a bite. “And how do you know I don’t already have plans?”

  The assholes busted up laughing, but it was Ty who spoke. “You handed your leash over to the pretty neighbor, who is busy working on Wagon Days shit with Ty’s wife. So, I’d say your night is open.”

  “I didn’t hand over my leash.” Ford said. “And maybe I was going to watch the game and throw back a few beers?”

  Ford snatched the fresh beer from Ty’s hand. Twisting off the cap, he sat on the couch and decided there were worse ways to spend the afternoon. It had been a while since he’d hung with his buddies and watched a game.

  “No can do,” Harris said. “Chaperones can’t drink. Parenting Party Rule Number Two.”

  Ty took the beer back, then put his lips all over it. “And this is the last craft brew. Sorry, bro,” he said, not sorry at all.

  Ford leaned back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling and wondered if, as a temporary tenant, he could change the locks.

  “Whoops . . . Parenting Party Rule Number Three states that a chaperone must be within line of sight at all times,” Harris said. “So you can finish my pizza outside on the porch. The good news is the party only lasts three hours.”

  Ford looked at the mess that started by the front door and blasted all the way down the hall to the bathroom. “How long have they been here?”

  “Party started at the same time as the game.
Four,” Ty said.

  “They’ve only been here fifteen minutes?” he asked, and Harris grinned. “What the hell am I supposed to do with a bunch of girls for two hours and forty-five minutes?”

  “You can always cut the cake early and sugar-load them,” Ty suggested.

  “That’s Parenting Party Rule Number One,” Harris said. “The Holy Grail of all rules. Never mix sugar, carbonated beverages, and a bounce house.”

  “Well, that’s your problem, because while I owe you, I already have plans.”

  “What? Practicing your outlaw moves?” Ty joked.

  “My moves are just fine,” Ford said, giving Ty the Shut it look, but he was too busy trying to be funny to notice.

  “Cooking for the first date?” Ty gave a low whistle. “Pretty smooth.”

  Harris looked at Ford. “Date?”

  Ford cut Ty a glare. “I invited her over for dinner tonight.”

  Harris studied him for a long moment, and then his face went slack with understanding. “You really have to work hard to be this stupid. You know that, right?”

  He did, but if this was what stupid felt like, then label him and stamp it on his forehead. He couldn’t seem to stop.

  “Oh, and there’s the look,” Ty said, pointing to Ford’s face. He smacked his hand away.

  “If I have any look, it’s because I came home to find a dozen little girls in makeup and plastic heels in my yard, my house destroyed, and two assholes drinking my beer.”

  “No, the other look you get when you think about Liv. Yup. That one,” Ty said, going at him with the finger again. “Like she’s beer, bacon, and boobs all in one. You’ve got it bad, bro.”

  “And the more time you guys spend together, the more likely it is for something to happen . . .” Harris faded off when Ford paced to the window. “Something already happened.”

  Ford’s silence was enough.

  “Did you at least tell her about Sam?”

  Ford felt the air in his lungs expand until they were too pissed to breathe. “No. And if she ever finds out, she’ll hate me.”