Best of all, he’d seen Brynn only once since the day of the bathrobe, and she’d been on her way to her car, bundled and shapeless. There had been nothing to remind him, nothing to tempt him.
He could do this.
He was on his back beneath the kitchen sink in the Grindstone cabin, trying to determine the source of a particularly persistent leak and cutting out damaged wood, when Millie wandered over from her corner.
“Daddy?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m hungry. And my movie is done.”
Crap. They’d made a deal. He was only supposed to work for the length of one movie. If he didn’t stop now, it was going to cost him an extra story at bedtime.
“Okay, Mills. I need three minutes to finish up and get my stuff together. You pack up your things, I’ll do mine, and—” he glanced longingly at the pipes “—we’ll head home.”
“Okay.”
But as he pulled himself out from beneath the sink, she lingered.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“When I get bigger, will I get...you know...bigger?”
He sat up with a groan and rubbed his back. There were days when he completely understood why Uncle Lou had given up on these cabins. “Well, yeah. That’s usually the way it works. You get taller and everything gets bigger and—”
“No, Daddy. I mean, like, here.”
As soon as he looked, he wished to hell he hadn’t. Because Millie, his beautiful, tiny daughter, was holding her hands in front of her lab-coated chest in the approximate position of breasts.
Hell and damnation.
He’d always known that they would have to have these talks. They’d already discussed, many times, why Daddy stood up to go to the bathroom while she sat down, why Daddy had parts that Millie didn’t have. And he’d always managed to swallow his discomfort to tell her that when she got older, her body would change and she would have breasts like all the women around her, like her grandmother and teachers and mother.
But none of those lessons must have carried the weight of spying a nude, generously endowed Brynn. Which made sense. Because thinking of what Millie might have seen had certainly been affecting him in powerful ways, as well.
He had learned long ago that awkward talks were better handled while the hands were busy. So he tossed wrenches into his open toolbox and focused on keeping his voice casual. “Yep. When you get to be a teenager, your breasts will get bigger. That’s part of growing up.”
“Oh.”
Her silence drew his gaze. She was drawing small finger circles on the shirt pockets.
“I only have little tiny points here.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s what you’re supposed to have now.”
“Brynn’s were bigger.”
He gulped and focused on the damp rags he was pulling from beneath the sink. “That’s ’cause she’s all grown up. A woman.” All woman, all enticing, all totally off-limits, North.
“She has boobies.”
Holy— “Where did you learn that word?”
She stuck her thumb in her mouth.
“It’s not a very polite word. Try not to say it again. And take your thumb out of your mouth.”
The thumb slipped free, but she continued to rub the shirt fabric between her fingers. “Okay. But when I grow up, I will have them.”
He drew in a long breath. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“What if I don’t want them?”
He barely held back the snort as he tossed the last rag into the bucket. “Sorry, kid. You don’t get to choose. Like Grandma says, you get what you get and you like it.”
“But they’re so weird! They were pointy and jiggly, and the ends were all brown and—”
“Whoa, whoa, Mills, stop!” Sweet Jesus, he was doomed. “Listen, kiddo.” He grabbed the saw from beneath the sink. “You shouldn’t have gone into her cabin, and you shouldn’t have gone into her bathroom and you shouldn’t have seen her in the shower. But since you did, you really shouldn’t talk about what she looks like to other people, okay? That’s invading her privacy.” And driving your father bat-shit crazy.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
Her little head bent. One finger ran slowly over the edge of the toolbox.
Ah, crap.
His heart ached at the sight of her, quiet and forlorn. His Millie always seemed slightly out of step with the world. Not lagging behind, as he often felt, but definitely marching to a different beat. Long-term, he knew, this could be a good thing. She would have a much stronger sense of who she was once she got older and all the other kids were just waking up to the fact that there was a world beyond glitter and SpongeBob. But right now...
Maybe this was the time to find out why she had stopped wearing her lab coat to school.
He set the saw down to kiss the top of her head.
“Mills. It’s okay to ask things, and you can ask me anything, anytime. Never worry about that. But other people don’t need these kinds of questions. And even when you’re asking, or wondering, let’s keep the focus on you, not what other people might, you know, look like. Okay?”
“I can really ask you anything?”
“Anything, babe.” And then we’re gonna turn the tables for a few minutes.
“Okay.” She lifted her face to his, her eyes wide and trusting. “Am I gonna get hair down on my privacy like Brynn, too?”
He was so frickin’ doomed.
“Yes, you will. I’ll be right back.”
The thud of his work boots echoed through the cottage, shaking the small space. A moment later he was alone in the bathroom, splashing icy water on his face in a vain attempt to shock some sense back into himself. He gasped and blinked and backhanded the drops from his cheeks, then stared at himself in the mirror.
“Millie,” he said out loud. He needed to focus on Millie. Talk to her. Find out what was happening with her. Bring the spotlight back where it belonged, not on...on...
Okay. So Millie had seen something and she had questions. That was normal. And good, really, that she was okay with asking him these things. Right?
He’d long since stopped missing Heather, assuming he ever had—fury tended to cloud the emotions—but damn. These were the times when he wouldn’t mind sharing the parenthood gig. Maybe he could try talking to her about this. She’d been a lot more open lately, less defensive than she used to be.
Of course, that didn’t mean she would appreciate hearing that he’d let their daughter see another woman naked.
Brynn. Naked.
His brain hazed over. Blood rushed south. His mouth went dry as he let himself imagine, just for a second, how it would feel to run his hand over Brynn’s curves, to lick that spot where neck met shoulder, to stretch her hands over her head and taste one of those breasts and—
A scream tore through the cabin.
“Daddy! Daddy, Daddy, owwwwwww!”
He was out of the bathroom before the panic had fully registered, pounding down the hall that seemed to triple in length while Millie’s cries bounced off the walls.
“Millie? Millie, what hap—”
He rounded the corner and froze. Millie crouched on the floor and cradled her hand, blood oozing from between her fingers, her face a terrifying shade of white while her mouth hung open in fear. At her feet lay the saw he’d been using. The saw he’d abandoned in his hurry to get away from the questions and images, the saw he’d left within reach of his curious child.
“Okay, baby. Hang on. Hang on.” He pried her good hand away, wordless prayers flooding his brain as he coaxed open her fist. “Let Daddy see what you did. Let me have a—”
Sweet Jesus. She’d sliced her palm. Bad. There was too much blood for him to get a good look but he didn’t need to see any mor
e.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, it hurts!”
“Shh, baby. I know. We’d better take you to the doctor.”
He pressed a corner of the shirt against the wound, cringing at the red wicking up into the fabric, then scooped her up, threw his coat over her back and headed into the icy night. Millie never stopped crying. Every sob, every hiccup, was like a scrape on his soul.
He ran up the path as fast as he could, cursing the darkness that made him second-guess each step. Nothing would be helped if he fell flat on his ass and they both ended up injured.
“It hurts!”
“I know, honey. Hang in there, okay?”
“But Daddy, it hurts!”
He moved a little faster, as much as he dared, but it still wasn’t enough. He needed light. He needed his keys. He needed to get something clean on Millie’s hand and put pressure on it and call the doc and drive and—
A light winked at him from between the trees. Brynn’s door opened.
“Hank? Is everything okay?”
He looked down at his sobbing child and admitted the truth.
“I need help.”
* * *
A FEW HOURS LATER Brynn held the door for Hank as he carried an exhausted Millie into the house. Brynn moved as quickly as she could, considering she’d never been inside, switching on lights and pulling back the covers on the twin bed in the small room crammed with stuffed animals, junior telescopes and an oversize stuffed Minion from the Despicable Me movies. She slipped out of the room as he got Millie settled and made her way to the kitchen. The polite thing might be to excuse herself and get out of the way, but the hell with that. First she would feed Hank. Then they were going to have a talk.
After a run back to her place and a few moments to acclimate herself in Hank’s cluttered kitchen, she had corn bread on a plate, chili in the microwave and water heating for the tea she so desperately needed. She grabbed a bucket from beneath the sink, filled it with cold water and set the bloodied lab coat soaking. By the time the microwave beeped, she had cleared school papers from one side of the tiny round table and had bowls ready and waiting.
Less than two minutes later, Hank stumbled into the room.
“Brynn?” He ran a hand over his chin, blinked in her direction. “What’s this?”
“Dinner.” She glanced at the clock. “Okay, maybe it’s closer to a midnight snack, but whatever. I haven’t eaten, I’m pretty sure you haven’t and I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. So. Food.”
He looked like he was on the verge of protesting, even though she could tell he was half-dead. Time to dig deep into her experience wrangling reluctant males.
“It’s chili. I made it last night. And I know we talked about boundaries, but sometimes you just have to be a decent human being. Now sit down and eat.”
He reared back the tiniest bit. For a second she was sure she’d reverted too much into bossy-older-sister mode. Then a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he dropped into his chair with a gracelessness that spoke volumes about how much he needed someone else to lend a hand for a moment.
“Lucky for you I’m too tired to fight.” He spooned up some chili. “And too hungry to last long if I did happen to be stupid enough to— Oh, God, this is good.”
She shrugged as she seated herself across from him and popped a spoonful of beans into her mouth. “Like I said, lots of brothers. I don’t cook a ton, but I know how to do filling, cheap and satisfying. Have some corn bread. You need it.”
He nodded, shoveled in more chili and helped himself to the bread. She poured tea, added cream and waited. It didn’t take long.
“Have I mentioned that you were a godsend tonight?”
“About a dozen times.”
The crookedness of his grin was far too endearing. “Sorry. You’d think the blood came from my brain instead of Millie’s hand.”
“You’re her father. You’re allowed to lose the ability to think rationally when your kid is hurt.” She drew in a deep breath, bracing herself. “But now she’s fine, and the worst is past and you’ve had some food. It’s time to talk.”
He hesitated a beat before breaking a piece of corn bread. “My mother used to do that.”
“What, say that it’s time to talk?”
“No. Make sure we were okay, get us fed and relaxed and breathing again and then pounce. I’d forgotten how well it worked.”
“Glad you figured it out. Now you’re prepared.” She cradled her mug in her hands, strengthening herself with the warmth as she leaned forward. “I understand your reasons for putting some walls between Millie and the people who will be in the cabins. But—”
“But you think I’m being a horse’s ass.”
Her lips twitched. “Thank you for not making me slam it through your skull.”
He dipped his spoon into the chili again, slower this time. She wasn’t sure if it was because he wasn’t as hungry, or if it had to do with her words, but years of harassing her brothers had taught her that sometimes, silence was the best policy.
At last he sighed and looked at her, fatigue and confusion lining his face. “How am I supposed to tell her that it’s okay with you but not others?”
“The way you said it just now. ‘Brynn is going to be here longer, and she’s working with Daddy, so this time, it’s fine. But we will have different rules for other people.’”
“Isn’t that too confusing?”
She sat back. “Seriously, Hank? You think a kid that smart doesn’t know that there are different rules at home and at school and at Grandma’s?”
The mulish twist to his mouth faded almost as fast as it had appeared. “Yeah. You have a point.”
Good. He was beginning to see the light.
“Hank,” she said gently, “I’m very glad that I was here tonight, but personally, I would rather not have a repeat of this evening anytime soon. I bet you and Millie could live without that, too.”
He looked at her with eyes that were the definition of overwhelmed. “You don’t pull your punches, do you?”
“Not over things that matter.”
He leaned back in his chair and hooked an elbow over the back. “Why are you so hell-bent on doing this?”
“I’m here. I like Millie. I like you. And sometimes, like I said, you just need to be a decent human being.”
He sighed. “It feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”
There was more to it than that, she was sure. Probably a smidge of ego and a hint of Superman complex and some of that need to prove himself that she had seen in her baby brother, Lukie, since he was born. The last thing he needed was to feel like he would be indebted to her.
She chose her words carefully. “I have this suspicion that you wouldn’t have been out there sawing things at six o’clock at night if I hadn’t pushed to have the festival here. So maybe I need to do this for me as much as for you.”
He ran his last bit of corn bread around the edge of the bowl, popped it in his mouth and sighed again, though this time with resignation. “We’ll need ground rules.”
She refrained, barely, from giving a little cheer. “Absolutely. You’re the dad, you call the shots. Tell me what’s important and I’ll go from there.”
“Okay. First rule—we wait until the morning to talk about the details.”
“That’s one I’m more than happy to work with.” She lifted her teacup as she stood. “In fact, now that we’re in agreement, I’m going back to my place to get some sleep.”
He shuffled to his feet, fatigue dropping off him. She had the most unwelcome desire to grab him by the elbow, march him down to his room and tuck him into bed before he fell over. And then she could curl up beside him and—
Where on earth had that come from? Sure, she had indulged in a few minu
tes—okay, more than a few—of lusting after Hank, but that was just biology and proximity and a really great-fitting pair of jeans. Lust, she could live with. Wanting to take care of him, to do more than lend a hand and share some extra food, that was a whole other ball of snow. It wasn’t like he was family.
He followed her to the door, reaching past her to open it as she shoved her arms inside her coat. He swayed a little and bumped up against her shoulder. She looked up, surprised, and lost her breath. For she’d been totally blowing smoke when she said she could handle plain, old-fashioned lust.
Hank’s face was mere inches from her own. His eyes had gone wide and were as filled with surprise as she was sure hers were. And the tiredness that had slowed his movements seconds earlier had fled, pushed aside by something far more insistent.
Kiss him.
The thought shivered through her, magnified tenfold when she saw that he was searching her face, his gaze lingering on her eyes, her cheeks, her lips.
She tipped her face up. Then, quick as a light being turned off, sanity returned.
She jerked back, cheeks burning, and raced for the cold and the night and the safety of outside. “Good night,” she said quickly. “I hope Millie has an easy night.”
She slipped into the dark, picking her way down the path between their cabins. When she reached her door she looked back. He was in his doorway. Watching to see that she made it home safely? She smiled despite her confusion, waved and let herself in.
He was just being a nice guy. She was reading too much in to this.
She almost believed herself.
Until she turned off the light and peeked out the window, where he still stood silhouetted against his door. As if he were trying to figure out what had happened.
As if he were as reluctant to see her go as she had been to leave.
Dating a Single Dad Page 8