“Help Josh look after his nieces for the summer.”
“That doesn’t sound like any cause for concern,” Jordyn said.
“You’re great with kids,” Lauryn pointed out. “And it was apparent at the Fourth of July picnic that Josh’s nieces are already taken with you.”
“It’s not the kids I’m worried about,” Tristyn admitted.
“Ahh.” Jordyn nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“And the first somewhere is Kentucky.”
“Now you’ve lost me,” Lauryn admitted.
“We’re going to spend the next few weeks—or eight to ten—on the road together in an RV.”
Jordyn’s lips curved. “Now this is getting really interesting. You and Josh...in close proximity to a bedroom.”
“Me and Josh and the three girls.”
“Who are—if I remember correctly—about seven, five and three?” Lauryn said.
She nodded.
“So I wouldn’t count on them being very effective chaperones,” her oldest sister warned. “Even Charlotte will probably be lights out by eight o’clock and asleep by nine. Which means that you and Josh will have to find something else to occupy your time together during those evening hours.”
“Have you both forgotten that I’ve been dating Rafe?”
Jordyn snorted. “You talked about dating more than you actually did.”
“Although it would be courteous to tell him that you’re shacking up with another man for the next couple of months,” Lauryn suggested.
“I’m not shacking up with anyone,” Tristyn retorted. “And Rafe—” she blew out a breath “—he left the picnic early last night because of Josh. He said it was because he had prep to do at the restaurant, but it was right after he decided that Josh was an obstacle to our relationship.”
“Obviously he’s more intuitive than most guys,” Lauryn noted.
“And he’s right,” Jordyn said. “You’ve been with Rafe for three months and you still haven’t slept with him.”
“We only managed to sync our schedules for three dates in those three months,” Tristyn reminded her sisters. “And how do you know I haven’t slept with him?”
“There’s not a sense of intimacy between you.”
She frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“She’s talking about the casual, easy touches and shared glances that communicate without a word being spoken,” Lauryn explained.
“Anyway, I do think this trip could be a good opportunity for you,” Jordyn said.
“An opportunity for what?” Tristyn asked warily.
“To finally get over your teenage crush on Josh.”
“I stopped being a teenager a lot of years ago,” she reminded her sisters.
“That doesn’t mean you ever resolved your feelings for him,” Lauryn pointed out.
“Trust me, those feelings were resolved,” Tristyn said firmly.
She didn’t know if her sisters believed her claim, because as confident as she’d tried to sound, she wasn’t sure she believed it herself.
* * *
Josh offered to do the grocery shopping, to stock up the RV, while Tristyn stayed with the girls. She declined the offer, because although she suspected that dragging three kids around the grocery store wasn’t likely to be fun for any of them, she wanted to ensure that he purchased foods and snacks that his nieces would actually eat.
Tristyn didn’t usually do major shopping. She tended to pick up a few things here and there, because as much as she liked to cook, she never knew what she wanted to eat from one day to the next. Obviously cooking for three kids—and Josh—was going to require a little more planning.
When she’d asked the girls what they liked to eat, she got the usual responses: chicken fingers, macaroni and cheese, and hot dogs. When she asked specifically about vegetables, she learned that Charlotte liked corn and carrots but not peas; Emily liked broccoli and carrots but not corn; Hanna hated anything yellow but would eat almost anything else. Fruit was more of the same. Charlotte liked red grapes and bananas; Emily liked apples, but only if they were cut into wedges, and oranges; Hanna liked grapes, bananas—because apparently the ban on yellow applied only to vegetables—and apples. But they hit the jackpot in the freezer aisle when they discovered that the girls unanimously loved ice cream and ice-cream sandwiches.
The cashier—Nikki, according to her employee ID tag—looked from Josh to the three girls and back again. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” she said. “But I didn’t think it had been that long.”
He looked at her blankly.
“Nikki Bishop,” she told him. “You dated my sister, Katie, a few years back.”
He nodded, as if he suddenly remembered. And maybe he did. On the other hand, Josh had dated so many women, Tristyn suspected he had trouble keeping all their names straight. “And the kids aren’t mine,” he explained. “They’re my sister’s.”
“They’re pretty girls,” the woman remarked, as she began to scan and bag the groceries.
He nodded again but said nothing to explain Tristyn’s presence.
“I’m the babysitter,” she piped up, continuing to transfer the contents of the cart to the conveyor belt. “So if you wanted to write your number on the receipt for him, I’m not going to be offended.”
Nikki looked at Josh again, a speculative gleam in her eye.
Tristyn held back a smile as Josh slid her a look.
“Although the reason I’m buying all these groceries is that I’m heading out of town on a road trip,” he explained to Nikki. “I’ll be gone most of the summer.”
She processed his payment, then tore the register receipt off and scrawled on the back of it. “Since I have no plans to move out of town, you can give me a call whenever you get back.”
“Thanks,” Josh said, taking the receipt and stuffing it into the last bag.
* * *
When they got back to his condo, the girls went into the living room to play Candyland—one of the many games their mother had sent to keep them busy while they were at Uncle Josh’s—and Tristyn helped Josh unpack the groceries.
“Whoops! I almost threw this away,” she said, folding the receipt and tucking it under the edge of his coffeemaker so that Nikki’s name and phone number were prominently displayed.
Josh grabbed the piece of paper and crumpled it in his fist, then dropped it into the garbage can under the sink.
Tristyn tsked. “Eventually you’ll make your way through the legions of women who line up at your door and might need that number,” she warned.
He didn’t respond to her provocative comment.
“Such are the charms of Josh Slater that not even the presence of three children dissuades the ladies,” she mused, unable to resist needling him a little more.
“I thought, when you agreed to come on this trip, it was a sign that you had my back,” he grumbled.
“I do,” Tristyn assured him.
“Then why did you just throw me to the wolves?”
“That pretty little blonde didn’t look anything like a wolf,” she argued. “More like a...bunny.”
“If bunnies were bloodthirsty predators,” he grumbled as he began packing dry goods into the boxes they would be taking in the RV. “Why did you tell her that you’re the babysitter?”
“Isn’t that what I am?” she queried. “Besides, I didn’t want to interfere in any way, shape or form with your romantic prospects.”
“No worries,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s not my type.”
“You have a type?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Let me guess...female, naked and willing?”
“And not seventeen,” he told her.
He
r gaze narrowed in response to the direct hit.
“But you’re not seventeen anymore, are you, Tris?” he asked, his tone speculative now.
“No, I’m not,” she acknowledged. “And you lost your chance to take advantage of an infatuated schoolgirl a long time ago.”
“Because it would have been taking advantage,” he acknowledged. “But now we’re both adults, standing on equal ground.”
“Now we need to stop standing around and get the ice-cream sandwiches in the freezer before they melt.”
“You keep insisting that you’re over what happened that night, but you refuse to talk to me about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened.”
“And you still haven’t forgiven me for that,” he noted.
She opened the refrigerator door and began putting the fruits and vegetables away.
Josh found the ice-cream sandwiches, tossed the box in the freezer, then closed the door and turned back to her. “You were seventeen,” he said again. “And you had a boyfriend. Remember? That’s why I ended up taking you to the prom—because your boyfriend was sick.”
“I remember,” she said tightly. “And I don’t really think this is the appropriate time or place to take this conversation any further.”
“You might be right,” he admitted. “But in twelve years, you haven’t been willing to talk about it...”
“It was my prom, I tried to kiss you good-night, you weren’t interested,” she acknowledged. “End of story.”
“You had a boyfriend,” he said again.
“And you’ve never kissed a girl who had a boyfriend?”
“Not if I knew about the boyfriend.”
“Really?” she asked skeptically.
“Really,” he confirmed. “But even if you didn’t have a boyfriend—even if you’d needed a date that night because you’d broken up with him—I wouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Thanks for that clarification.”
“Not because I didn’t want to,” he told her. “But because I couldn’t be sure that I’d be able to stop after one kiss.”
“I would have stopped you after one kiss,” she assured him.
“Would you?” he asked softly. “Maybe you don’t remember the way you looked at me that night, but I do. You were young and beautiful and curious. I could see it in your eyes—the way you looked at me when we walked along the path under the magnolia trees—the wanting and the wondering. And there was no way in hell I was going to be the man who took your innocence.”
Except that he had taken a part of it. Even without touching her body, he’d taken the innocence of Tristyn’s heart.
* * *
It was almost midnight by the time Tristyn finished packing. Though her body was exhausted when she fell into bed, she couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Josh had said about the night of her prom.
He was right about her feelings. She had wanted him. But only because she’d allowed herself to get caught up in the romantic ambience of the evening. And Josh had been so incredibly handsome in his tux.
When she saw him standing in the foyer of her parents’ home, waiting for her with a corsage box in his hand, her heart had fluttered wildly inside her chest. She’d had to hold on to the railing as she descended the stairs, because her knees were trembling so much she was afraid they would buckle.
Her stomach had been so tied up in knots, she’d barely been able to eat. And when his thigh inadvertently brushed against hers beneath the table, heat had rushed through her veins. She’d been relieved when their plates were taken away and the DJ took the stage. But dancing with Josh had been another new and incredible experience. She’d danced with other boys, of course, but Josh was no longer a boy. And being held close to his body had stirred her own in ways she’d never before imagined.
If he’d kissed her beneath those magnolia trees—and oh, how she’d wanted him to kiss her beneath those magnolia trees—she might have suggested that they go for a drive instead of him taking her directly home.
But he hadn’t kissed her then—or later.
And it wasn’t just the recollection of that night that kept her awake—it was the memory of the way he’d looked at her tonight. That night, his rejection had been sharp and brutal, cruelly cutting. His eyes had been cold, leaving her with absolutely no doubt that he didn’t want any of what she was offering. Tonight, there had been nothing but heat.
Maybe she was tempted. Maybe there was a part of her that still wondered what it would be like to be kissed by Josh, touched by Josh, loved by Josh.
That part wasn’t invited on their road trip, she decided.
Instead, she would be the babysitter that she’d told Nikki she was. She would focus on the girls to the exclusion of all else. She would not succumb to Josh’s considerable charms, and she definitely wouldn’t give him an opportunity to reject her again.
Chapter Seven
It turned out that Josh’s plan to be on the road by 10:00 a.m. was a little optimistic. By the time the girls were all dressed and had eaten breakfast—he made a mental note to ensure they ate before getting dressed in the future, since Hanna required a complete change of clothes after spilling juice down her front, and Charlotte needed a new shirt because she leaned over her plate as she reached for the bottle of syrup—it was almost that time already.
Tristyn showed up at nine forty-five, fresh and well rested and so beautiful it made him ache just to look at her. She quickly surveyed the situation and took charge of the chaos, instructing Josh to finish packing the RV while she cleaned up. As a result, they were only half an hour late pulling away from his building.
They’d been driving for just over an hour when Emily suddenly put down the beginner book she’d been reading and said, “I don’t feel so good, Uncle Josh.”
“What’s the matter, Em?”
“My tummy feels icky.”
“We’re going to be stopping in about thirty miles,” he told her.
“It hurts now,” she insisted.
“Well, there’s nowhere for me to stop right now, so you’ll just have to wait.”
“But—”
Tristyn, quickly assessing the situation, dumped the snacks and juice boxes out of the small cooler at her feet and shoved it into the backseat—just as Emily threw up her breakfast. Mostly into the cooler.
“Eww!” Charlotte said. “She barfed on the back of your seat, Uncle Josh.”
“Eww!” Hanna echoed.
Emily started to cry.
“It’s okay,” Tristyn soothed, reaching back to rub the girl’s knee. “As soon as Uncle Josh can pull over, we’ll get it cleaned up.”
“Lucky I’ve got leather,” he muttered.
“It stinks,” Charlotte grumbled.
Josh didn’t disagree.
Tristyn uncapped a bottle of water and passed it back to Emily. “Small sips,” she instructed.
It seemed to take forever to travel those thirty miles to the next rest stop. Tristyn opened Emily’s window in the hope that the flow of air would help her feel better, but his middle niece continued to cry softly, Charlotte complained that there was too much noise with the window open and Hanna kept kicking the side of his seat.
When he finally pulled over, Tristyn found a change of clothes for Emily and took her into the restroom to wash up.
“Emily always gets carsick,” Charlotte said, as Josh attempted to clean the now-dried spots of vomit off the back of his seat with the wet wipes he’d stocked up on, pursuant to Tristyn’s advice on the Fourth of July.
He continued to scrub the leather. “And you didn’t think to tell me this earlier?”
His eldest niece shrugged. “I didn’t think about it earlier, but it’s probably in the book.”
> When he finally got the last remnants of vomit cleaned up, he pulled out the damn book his eldest niece kept referencing. Sure enough, it was noted that Emily had a tendency toward motion sickness when she was in a car for an extended period of time and recommended that she be seated in the middle of the backseat with an unobstructed view out the front windshield.
“‘If planning any extended trips, be sure to give her children’s Dramamine beforehand,’” he read aloud.
Charlotte nodded approvingly. “I told you it would be in the book.”
There was also a parenthetical reference to the fact that Emily had no problem with roller coasters, probably because the air flow that accompanied the motion ensured that she didn’t feel nauseated.
When Tristyn came back with Emily, he crossed his fingers and went into the convenience store attached to the fast-food options and restrooms. Perhaps car sickness was more common than he suspected, because he found what he was looking for on a shelf with Tylenol, cough syrup and Band-Aids.
“I got the Dramamine,” he told Emily, triumphantly holding up the box for her inspection.
But she shook her head. “That’s not the medicine Mommy gives me.”
“It’s in the book,” he told her, since the girls seemed to believe all the important information had been duly noted in the book.
Emily shook her head again. “The one Mommy gives me is purple.”
“And it says ‘children’ on the label,” Charlotte offered.
“They didn’t have one specifically for children,” Josh explained. “They only had this one, but it says right on the label, ‘for children two-to-six, give half of a chewable tablet.’”
“I like purple,” Emily said.
“When we get to a town with a real pharmacy, we’ll try to find the purple one,” he promised. “But right now, I need you to eat the orange one.”
Emily still looked wary, but she took the half tablet from his hand and put it on her tongue. As soon as her taste buds registered the unfamiliar flavor, she spat it out on the ground. “I don’t like it.”
“I’m sorry that you don’t like it,” Tristyn said gently. “But you have to take it so that your tummy won’t feel icky while we’re riding in the truck.”
The Last Single Garrett Page 7