Summer with the Single Dad, page 14
“When?” Wyatt asked.
Bennett lifted his head and glared at Clint.
“He’s not denying it,” Dom said with a smirk.
“When?” Clint said, repeating Wyatt’s question.
Bennett rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets. “This morning. While on our run.”
“Our run?” Clint mocked. “You’re running together?”
“Yesterday we found out we both run. So then today we figured we’d run together since we leave at the same time. I offered to leave after her, but she said no.”
“So you did it while on your run?” Wyatt asked. “How the hell did that work? Fitness tights are impossible to get off, even if the woman is lying on a bed.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Where?” Dom probed a little firmer.
“Against a tree a couple of miles away,” Bennett said with exasperation.
His brothers all stopped in their tracks. Mirror-image, wide-open, codfish mouths on their faces.
“I’d expect that from Wyatt, even Dom. And definitely Jagger, but never in a million years did I think stick-up-his-ass, Bennett McEvoy, would have sex with a virtual stranger against a tree.” Clint shook his head, then glanced up at the sky. “Nope. Sky’s still blue.” He pinched his wrist. “Nope. Not dreaming.”
Wyatt and Dom snorted.
Bennett merely rolled his eyes. “It’s not like we planned it.”
“No?” Wyatt chided as they all started to walk again. “You’re sure “sex with a guest” isn’t on your color coded fridge calendar.”
Bennett shot Wyatt a glower that was intended to make his brother’s head pop off. It didn’t work.
“I mean, you schedule everything else,” Wyatt went on. “Hell, even I know you always take a shit between seven twenty-five and seven forty in the morning. After your run, and shower, and first cup of coffee. And I should not know that, but I do. Because you are a creature of habit and your entire body and life is scheduled. You’re as predictable as the damn tides.”
Heat filled Bennett’s chest and cheeks as they reached the junction where one road took them to the pub and cabins and the other took them up to their houses. They all headed toward the pub and cabins. The work day started as soon as the kids were off to school.
Next week, when the kids were out of school for the summer, things would be a bit different. But every house had a walkie-talkie and the dads all had one too. So the kids could radio whenever they needed something. They were also free to come to the pub or kitchen or brewery and find one of them if they needed anything. Jagger was usually around to keep an eye on them too, as he worked from his home office managing the social media and event planning for the cabins, pub, and brewery.
“So now what?” Clint asked.
“What do you mean?” Bennett’s gut spun with regret.
Clint looked at him like he just sprouted a second head off his shoulder. “Well, you guys had sex. She’s staying in your house. She’s also a paying guest. How are you handling this?”
“Wait, could this somehow be considered prostitution?” Wyatt asked, smacking the back of his hand against Bennett’s chest. “She’s paying to stay here. You had sex. Did she pay you for sex? Are you a gigolo now?”
Dom and Clint snorted.
Bennett spied his closed office door and picked up his gait to reach it sooner. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
“Not that I disagree with that statement,” Clint started, “but seriously. What is the plan now? Are you guys just fucking around for fun? Or is this serious? That run back had potential to be awkward.”
“It was,” Bennett grumbled.
Wyatt chuckled and shook his head. “Jesus.”
Dom exhaled and shoved his fingers into his hair that didn’t have the man-bun in it yet. “And here I thought Clint hooking up with Brooke was complicated. You’re fucking a guest and she’s staying in your house.”
“Only until Friday. Then the trailer is coming.”
“And then the fucking stops?” Dom asked. “How is that going to work?”
“I don’t know,” Bennett exclaimed. “I don’t know if there will be a second time. I don’t know if she wants there to be. Or if I want there to be.”
Oh, he definitely wanted there to be a second time. And a third. And a fourth. And fifty-sixth.
His brothers looked at him curiously. “Was it bad?” Wyatt asked.
Bennett rolled his eyes again and glanced away. “No. It wasn’t bad.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Wyatt fished his pub keys out of his pocket.
Bennett shook his head and stared at the gravel parking lot for a half second before lifting his gaze to his brothers. “I feel guilty. She’s the first woman since Carla and … I feel guilty.”
Understanding dawned on all their faces, and their expressions of confusion and criticism softened until they disappeared.
“It was weird the first time after Jacqueline too,” Clint said gently.
“Yeah, but at least you and Brooke are together now. In love. And you did it in your house like normal people. Not sex-crazed animals. What kind of respect does it show Carla—or Justine, for that matter—that I was unable to control myself and had to have her up against a fucking tree.”
“Well, as far as respect for Justine goes, I think a woman would be pretty thrilled to know she got you so hot you lost composure and all rational thought and threw her up against a tree to have your consensual way with her. I don’t think they’re thinking too much about being respected when their back is being scratched up by bark and they’ve got their pants hanging off one leg.” Wyatt shrugged. “That’s just my opinion. And experience.”
Dom and Clint both nodded.
“And as far as Carla goes … it’s been five years,” Clint said. “And even though Jacqueline and I had been on the road to divorce when she died and we hadn’t had sex in over a year before that, it was still weird. But I wouldn’t want her to be celibate if I died. I would want her to feel passion, and love, and lust again. Wouldn’t you want that for Carla?”
Bennett barely nodded, but he nodded.
“Five years is more than respectable.” Clint clapped a hand on Bennett’s shoulder. “I know you no longer feel guilt when you feel happy, and that was a big step. But it’s time to stop feeling guilt about other aspects of your life. About other things that bring you joy … and pleasure.”
Wyatt nodded more enthusiastically than Dom, which was understandable. Dom and his wife Remy were high school sweethearts. They lost their virginity to each other and even though they broke up for a bit when Dom joined the marines and they slept with other people during those few years, they both claimed to have never loved anybody else.
They all took the death of their wives hard. Of course they did. But Dom seemed to take it the hardest. He was easily one of the biggest flirts, but it was all talk. Bennett was almost one hundred percent sure Dom hadn’t slept with anybody since Remy’s death. Bennett would even bet that Dom hadn’t jerked off since Remy’s death. Not that he thought about his brother jerking off.
He shook his head to clear that image.
“You need to talk to Justine,” Clint advised. Wyatt and Dom nodded. “You need to figure out where her head is, and while you’re working and she’s gone, figure out where your head is.”
“We can always ask Jagger to make up one of his spare rooms for her,” Wyatt teased, as he went to unlock the front door of the pub. Dom followed him.
Bennett gave Wyatt another warning look, but it was to his back. Both of them disappeared into the pub, leaving just Bennett and Clint.
“Come on,” Clint said, slapping Bennett on the back. “I’ve got a new batch of High Tide lager I want your opinion on. I can’t tell if it’s done or not.”
“It’s eight thirty in the morning.”
“Yeah, but it’s five thirty in Paris, so …”
Bennett snorted a laugh, but nodded, following his brother into the brewery and inhaling the heady scent of fermented hops and barley, along with the strong odor of industrial cleaner.
Cooper, Clint’s right hand; and Gladstone, another brewery employee, were hard at work. Cooper was sparging the grain, which meant that he was rinsing it, which marginally increased the recovery of sugar from the grain. Gladstone was busy checking temps and writing them down on the log sheet. They each gave Clint and Bennett nods and waves before getting back to work.
“You’re into her, aren’t you?” Clint asked, pouring them both glasses from the big spigot for the fermenter. The beer was a dark amber color with just the right amount of foam. Even though Bennett wasn’t the brewmaster, he paid attention when Clint spoke and understood the simpler parts of beer making.
They clinked glasses like they always did and Bennett took a sip. This allowed him a moment to think before he answered Clint’s question. But he knew Clint wouldn’t let him off the hook. He’d repeat himself until Bennett replied.
Licking the foam from his lips, he nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
“And she’s into you?”
He nodded again. “Yeah.”
“So, then … figure out how to make it work.”
“But it’s temporary and unprofessional and—”
“I thought Brooke was temporary and now she’s moved in and we’re happier than ever. We know firsthand that life can throw really shitty things at us when we least expect it. So take the good when it’s given to you.”
“Is that your new mantra?” Bennett finished his beer. “Needs a few more days in the fermenter, I think.”
Clint nodded and finished his beer as well. “I agree. And yeah, it kind of is my new mantra.”
Bennett exhaled deeply. “She’s a doctor, you know. A surgeon.”
“Wow. That’s cool.”
“She’s on sabbatical and not sure she wants to return to medicine. This vacation was supposed to help her figure things out.”
“And here you’ve gone and banged her head against a tree that now she probably can’t think straight.” Clint’s grin was cheeky.
“Or I’ve just gone and confused her even more. Given her another thing to consider and think about and fret over. Another thing to feel guilty about.”
“What does she feel guilty about?”
Bennett shook his head to dismiss Clint’s question. It wasn’t his place to say anything about the patient Justine believed she killed.
“Well, while I have you here, I need to order some things.” He wandered over to the wall, where a stained and torn catalog of beer equipment sat on a narrow table. There were dog-eared pages and a few pages with Post-it notes. He flipped to a page in the middle. “I need four new gas flow meters and six gas blow-off hoses. And I’ll need a new mash colander by the end of the summer. But that’s not pressing. I can wait.”
Bennett grabbed his phone from his back pocket and took pictures of the items Clint needed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Well, I gotta go see how the dehumidifiers are working on drying out cabin five. Cam Arendelle emailed me an estimate earlier this morning. It’s pricey, but it’s reasonable and below our deductible.”
“So we’re doing this ourselves and not putting in a claim?” Clint asked, even though it was rhetorical. Disappointment, but also understanding, skimmed his features.
“Yeah. We are. Cam said he’d help. And I’ll work on it, and Jagger and … We’ll figure it out.”
Clint nodded. “I hope so. You’re the money man. We trust you.”
Bennett bid his brother farewell, then headed to cabin five. He could hear the hum of the dehumidifiers before he even reached the cabin. Hopefully, that noise didn’t bother the other cabin guests. He unlocked the free-standing unit and stepped inside. Everything was still really damp, but it looked way better than yesterday.
Cam advised against starting construction until things were dry. That way, they knew exactly what needed to be replaced and what they could salvage and keep. The floors were probably toast, but they might be able to keep the kitchen cabinets. It was MDF, which was notorious for swelling in moisture, but when Bennett checked, the cabinets didn’t seem too bad. The baseboards were warped and would need to be replaced, but things like the rugs and linens just needed to be washed and hung in the summer sun to dry. He had faith that they could repair the cabin under budget and not wind up completely in the poorhouse because of it.
He used the moisture meter Cameron loaned him to check on various parts of the cabin, then returned to his office to pay invoices, deal with payroll, and check emails.
The rest of the day dragged by and it felt like forever and a lifetime before he was walking with Wyatt to meet the kids at the bus stop. The kitchen was slow enough that Wyatt felt like he could step out for a couple of hours before the dinner rush to meet his kids and walk them home. Dom was training the new waitstaff, so he couldn’t leave the bar. Clint was busy packaging up a huge shipment with Cooper and Gladstone for a liquor store in Colorado that was now carrying their beer, and Jagger was … nobody really knew where Jagger was.
“How was your day?” he asked Emme first, as she hopped off the bus before her sister.
“Fine,” Emme said with a sigh. “Aya got into a fight at school though.”
Bennett’s eyes nearly popped out of his head and his stomach plummeted to his feet.
“I did not!” Aya shouted as she stepped off the bus, as angry as a wet cat. “I only punched after I’d been punched. That’s called self-defense.”
“Why didn’t I get a call about this?” Bennett said, taking his youngest daughter’s hand.
“Because nobody told a duty teacher. Nobody knows about it but me, Carnation, Emme and like three other kids. And they’re not going to tell anybody. Sadie, who was one of the other three kids says that snitches get stitches.” Wyatt snorted. Bennett smacked his palm against his forehead. “And Emme only knows because she is nosy.”
“I’m not nosy. I saw you hit Carnation from where I was on the monkey bars. You’re just lucky a duty teacher didn’t see you.”
Aya stuck her tongue out at her sister and scrunched her face up, her brows pinched together so tight they nearly kissed in the middle.
“Hey, we don’t do that,” Bennett said, squeezing her hand. “Be kind to your sister.”
“She tattled on me to you,” Aya protested. “Carnation is fine. I’m fine. See?” She swiveled her face side-to-side. “No bruises.”
“She hit you in the face?” Bennett exclaimed.
“Yeah, but I hit her in the stomach because I know she’s the flower girl at her uncle’s wedding this weekend and will be in pictures.”
Bennett didn’t know whether to laugh, beam with pride, or shrivel in shame. So he remained stoic and unexpressive.
Wyatt was further back with the boys, and Talia was off in her own little world, reading the things written on her pink cast.
“First of all, Little Bug, we do not hit.”
“But it was self-defense,” Aya professed. “She hit me first.”
“I don’t care. It’s up to you to be the bigger and better person and not hit back. If you can help it. If she’s coming at you with wild fists, then block as best you can.”
Aya glared at the ground. “She didn’t cry. I didn’t hit her that hard.”
“Did you cry?” he asked.
“A few tears, but I was mostly just mad.”
“Why did she hit you?”
“Because I told her to stop throwing rocks at a baby squirrel on the ground and she wouldn’t listen. She told me to mind my own business, and I told her animals are my business. Then I tried to pull the rocks out of her hand and she punched me in the cheek with the other hand.”
Bennett nodded. “Ah, so you touched her first?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t hit her. I was trying to get the rocks out of her hands. There’s a difference.”
Bennett pressed his lips together and pulled a deep, fortifying breath in through his nose. “There is, but you still put your hands on her first.”
Aya shook herself free of his hand and crossed her arms over her chest. She was in full-on pout-mode. He half expected a thundercloud to roll in and hover over her curly little head.
“I think I need to have a chat with Carnation’s parents,” he said, not wanting to break their connection, since that was how he kept her grounded, and placing his hand on her shoulder.
Her sigh wracked her entire body, and she shuddered at the end. “I know.”
“Do you think this requires a consequence?”
She glanced up at him, her glare no longer deep enough to make her blonde brows kiss. Her expression relaxed. “Maybe.”
“What do you think that should be?”
Her bottom lip wobbled. “I dunno. What do you think it should be?”
“I’m asking you.”
Her brows knitted again. “And I’m asking you.”
They reached the junction for the two lanes and Wyatt flagged him down. “Boys want a snack, so I’m going to take them into the kitchen. You guys want in?”
Bennett glanced at the girls. “You guys want snack at home or in the kitchen?”
“Can we have spring rolls?” Talia asked.
Wyatt nodded. “Just made some fresh ones today.”
Talia skipped over to Wyatt and the boys.
“I’m tired and just want some cereal,” Emme said.
Aya was on the verge of tears now and barely keeping it together, so Bennett made the decision for her. “I think we’re going to head home, but thanks. Enjoy the spring rolls.” Then he took his daughters up to the house where, by the time they got there, he was carrying a bawling Aya, her big tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt.
He plunked her down on the couch in the living room and she shot her big sister a deathly stare as Emme hung up her backpack and got out her lunch kit.
“That’s enough with the evil eyes,” Bennett said.
“But she tattled and now I’m in trouble!” Aya shouted, before bursting back into tears.
Bennett sat down on the couch with his youngest, most sensitive child and pulled her into his lap. “I don’t look at it as tattling. I look at it as your big sister looking out for you. Because either way, it was going to come out. Enough people know that this wouldn’t stay a secret forever. Either I’m calling Carnation’s parents or they’re calling me. Emme was helping you by getting the information to me in case you decided to withhold it.” He rubbed her back, but made sure his look was very fatherly. “Because we don’t keep secrets in this house, right?”
