14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
E ven after her shower, Justine couldn’t get rid of the smile on her face. She thought for sure the guilt would eclipse her euphoria by the time she turned off the tap and stepped out onto the heated tile of the bathroom floor, but all she felt was good. Scratch that. All she felt was amazing.
Staring at herself in the mirror, with one fluffy white towel around her body and another one twisted up in her hair, she brought her fingers to her lips.
That kiss …
The one in the rain.
If he hadn’t been holding onto her, she’d have crumpled to the ground for sure, because Bennett McEvoy was an expert at knowing how to sweep her off her feet.
Then there was that kiss in his office once they were dressed again—sort of.
The board shorts were way too big for her, and the hoodie was too small, but at least she wasn’t naked running up the hill to the house. And she’d kept her underwear on, despite how damp they were, and they kept the tissues in place until she was able to use the bathroom properly.
Memories of their impromptu morning made her smile grow wider. His stubble rubbed a bit of a rash on her cheeks, but she didn’t mind. Moving her fingers there, she touched the red splotchy skin gently and a small giggle pulled in her throat.
A soft, but determined, knock at her door diverted her attention. “Justine?”
Double checking that her towel was tight around her body, she went and opened the bedroom door to find Aya. “Good morning.”
Aya’s smile nearly touched her ears. “You’re awake!”
“I am.”
“You haven’t been awake the last three days when I knocked. Were you sick?”
Justine shook her head. “I, um … I had earplugs in. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Aya frowned, but it only lasted a moment before she smacked the big smile back on her face. “Are you coming to breakfast?”
“I, um …”
“Please. Please come.”
Justine sighed. “Okay. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed.”
Aya bounced on her toes. “Yay. Okay. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.”
Then the little girl skipped toward the stairs. The bathroom door in the hallway was closed, and it sounded like someone was in the shower. Probably Bennett.
An image of him naked, wet, and soapy, flitted into her mind and her belly grew warm—along with other places too.
Hiding a smile behind her hand, she closed the bedroom door, flung the towel off her body and went searching through her drawers for something to wear. It was going to be a rainy day. So she decided on jeans that rolled at the ankle, a loose, black tank top and a gray jersey cardigan.
She hated having wet hair, so she quickly dried her straight strands with her travel blow dryer, dabbed a bit of lip gloss on her lips. Just as she was closing her bedroom door, her phone vibrated in her back pocket.
She sighed when she saw that it was another text message from her dad, and a pang of guilt made her buoyant heart deflate a little. She hated avoiding her parents—particularly her father. But she just wasn’t ready to face them or tell them the truth about what happened in the OR or between her and Tad. Plastering on another smile, and determined to keep her good mood from this morning going no matter what, she made her way to the kitchen where arguing little girl voices had her smiling.
“I can do it myself,” Aya said with frustration in her squeaky voice. “Let me do it myself, Emerson.” She growled out her sister’s full name and tried to jerk the gallon-jug of milk out of her sister’s hand. The jug was full, they’d probably just opened it, and of course, Aya was just an itty-bitty little thing with twigs for arms and the force of her yank, combined with her sister’s resistance, was an obvious recipe for disaster.
The jug fell to the floor and milk began to glug, glug out immediately.
“Ugh!” Emme said with exasperation. “I told you it was too heavy for you.”
“No, it’s not!” Aya shouted back. “You just wouldn’t let go.”
“Dad!”
“Dad!”
Neither child had bothered to actually pick up the jug and stop it from dumping anymore, so Justine swooped in and did it. “All right. Let’s get this cleaned up, hmm? The worst thing in the world is the smell of sour milk. So we need to make sure it doesn’t seep under any appliances.”
That seemed to snap the girls out of their rage fugue and Emme was quick to grab a tea towel from the oven handle and drop to her knees to help.
“Do you have a washcloth too?” Justine asked.
Emme leaped back to her feet and grabbed one that’d been draped over the faucet.
“If you’d just let me do it myself,” Aya said, standing over them with her hands on her boney little hips.
Justine glanced up at Aya. “It was a very full jug, sweetheart.”
“I’m strong. See?” She brought her arms up like a bodybuilder but didn’t actually know how to flex her muscles. And even if she was flexing, nothing popped out.
“I’m sure you are, but you’re also not at a great height for the counter. Your sister was just trying to help.”
“To stop a mess like this from happening,” Emme grumbled under her breath before standing up to rinse the washcloth. She returned a moment later to mop up more. They also required a couple more tea towels since the milk made a terrible mess.
Aya stuck out her tongue at her sister.
“What’s going on here?” Unnerved by the way Bennett’s smooth voice echoed inside her, Justine jumped. Her gaze popped up to his and that sexy smirk on his talented lips.
“Aya snatched the milk jug from—”
“No, I didn’t!” Aya stomped her foot and growled, sneering at her sister. “Emerson wouldn’t let me do it myself. And I can, Daddy. I’ve done it before.” She looked on the verge of tears now. The anger was getting the better of her, and her little body couldn’t cope. Justine knew all too well what that was like.
Bennett crouched down to her level and pulled her onto his knee. “I know you have, Little Bug. But last time, the milk jug wasn’t brand new and full. Remember?”
She sniffled.
“You’re a big kid now, for sure, but the counter height is awkward for such a big jug of milk. Emme was just trying to help.”
“I don’t need her help.”
“How about we find a smaller jug that we can put milk in, keep it in the fridge, and that will be your jug, hmm?”
Her bottom lip wobbled, but she nodded. “Okay.”
He kissed her cheek. “That’s my big girl.”
Aya glared again at her sister and Emme let out another exasperated sigh. “I was only trying to help,” she murmured to Justine. “She’s so stubborn.”
Justine offered her a sympathetic smile. “I know you were.” They finished cleaning up the tile floor. Even though the milk made a terrible mess, when she glanced at the jug, less than a third was actually gone.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Bennett said, offering her his hand to help her up.
An electric zap from where they touched raced up her arm, through her abdomen, and took up residence between her legs. He must have felt it too—in his finger—because warmth flickered in his eyes and his smile widened.
She shrugged. “Not a problem.”
They were still holding hands now that she was standing, both of them smiling like idiots.
“Can you find me my own jug, Dad?” Aya asked, breaking the spell between Justine and Bennett.
He cleared his throat and glanced down at his child. “Hmm?”
“The jug,” she repeated, her gaze bouncing between her father and Justine with growing intensity. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Bennett said quickly, clearing his throat again. “Right. The jug.” Then he went on the hunt for something that his seven-year-old could hold and not dump.
“Do you want cereal or toast?” Emme asked, directing her question to Justine. “I’m having peanut butter toast. Aya is having cereal. We’re both having strawberries.”
“Peanut butter toast and strawberries sounds perfect,” Justine said.
“It’s what she has every morning,” Aya said with a bored tone. “She never changes. Not on school days anyway. It’s so booooorrrrring.”
Emme glowered at her younger sister. “I don’t like change. I like peanut butter toast and strawberries. By having the same thing every day I don’t run the risk of being disappointed or hungry before first recess. Routine isn’t a bad thing, Aya.”
“It’s booooorrrrring ,” Aya sung out. “I’m having cereal today. But tomorrow I might have oatmeal. Then the next day maybe toast with jam and a banana. I like to mix it up. I’m not booooorrrrring.”
Emme, being far more mature than nine didn’t respond. She merely shook her head and went about making her breakfast.
Bennett located a plastic jug and poured about a liter of milk into it for Aya. The little girl was then happy as could be as she covered her cereal with milk all by herself.
“Crisis averted,” he said under his breath as he passed behind her and pulled down two mugs from the cupboard. “Are you a coffee or tea drinker?”
“Coffee, please,” she said, sidling up next to Emme, who was busy putting four slices of toast in the toaster. “That bread looks healthy.”
Emme rolled her eyes. “It’s the squirrely bread from Let It Rise. Dad says it’s the healthiest one they make and if we want the sourdough for lunch, we need to eat this for breakfast.”
Justine pressed her lips together to keep herself from smiling. “Your dad is very smart. And he just wants to keep you healthy.”
“I know.” She seemed bored and like she’d heard this rhetoric a thousand times before.
“You could put a bit of the lavender honey on it if you want,” Bennett said, scooping coffee grounds into the fancy coffee machine on the corner of the counter.
Emme’s eyes lit up, and she opened up the pantry, pulling out a very familiar-looking jar.
Aya was already at the table, scooping cereal into her mouth. “Emme, can you wash and cut me some strawberries, please?”
Emme glared at her sister. “You weren’t very nice to me just now. Why should I be nice to you?”
Aya matched her sister’s glare, then took a step further by scrunching up her face. So many of their interactions brought back waves of memories and déjà vu for Justine and her interactions with her sisters. Though usually, they kept their bickering quiet since if their mother heard them, there would be hell to pay. They still pushed each other’s buttons the way Emme and Aya pushed each other’s.
It was just what siblings did.
“Because you wouldn’t let me do it myself,” Aya shot back.
“I was only trying to help and stop you from—”
“All right,” Bennett said, his voice booming over his squabbling daughters. “Aya, you were rude to Emme. Emme, this isn’t an eye for an eye. Just because Aya was rude doesn’t mean you need to stoop to her level.”
“Doesn’t mean I need to do anything to help her either. I wasn’t being rude. I was telling her how she treated me and asking her why she thought I should be nice to her.”
Bennett’s nod was full of exhaustion. “I understand that.”
Emme rolled her brown eyes and tossed her dark chestnut curls over her shoulder. “Ugh. Fine. I’ll wash and cut up your strawberries.”
Aya’s expression was one of triumph. But a stern look from her father had the little girl stowing her glee quickly. She hopped off her chair and came around to her sister at the counter. “I’m sorry. I was rude to you. I’m sorry I made the jug spill. You were just trying to help.” Then she wrapped her arms around her sister. “You’re a good sister.”
“You are too,” Emme said, embracing her sister. “Most of the time.”
The girls started to giggle, then together, they washed and diced the strawberries as if their quarrel had never happened.
Bennett was already back at the coffee machine. “What kind of milk—if any—do you take?” he asked.
“Whatever you have,” Justine said, still in awe of how easily the girls resolved their differences. It had to be the parenting. Because even though Justine and her sisters were told not to argue, they still did. And they often held silent, secret grudges against each other for days. They just had to be covert about it because if their mother found out they were at odds, they would all pay.
The toast popped up, and Justine and Emme spread generous amounts of all-natural, chunky peanut butter on the slices. They remained conservative with the honey though.
Bennett brought her a steaming mug that smelled like heaven. “I like oat milk in my coffee,” he said. “So that’s what I put in yours.”
She gingerly took a sip while still standing at the counter. “Mmmm.”
She and Emme joined Aya back at the table where summer in a bowl, a.k.a. the washed and diced strawberries, sat tempting all of them.
Bennett joined them with what looked like a bowl of muesli.
They sat there like a family.
She should have felt guilty about that, especially since this was another woman’s family. This was Bennett’s late wife’s house. Her children, her husband. And yet, all Justine felt was joy.
“I like this,” Aya said, slurping the milk from her bowl. “Dad, are you baking the cupcakes and cakes today?”
Justine gasped. In all the chaos of the flood in her cabin, avoiding Bennett because of their outdoor, tree sex, and her ongoing self-destruct party masquerading as a voyage of self-discovery, she completely forgot that she offered to help him bake for the school fair.
Bennett nodded. “I’ve taken the day off—well, mostly off—to bake. You girls can help me decorate when you get home from school.”
The sisters beamed.
“I’m so sorry,” Justine said, setting down her toast. “I completely forgot that I offered to help.”
Bennett shrugged and sipped his coffee. “You can still help. Unless you have plans today?”
She shook her head. “Nothing besides more exploring. But if you need the help, I’ll gladly help.”
His smile was sly and stirred all kinds of inappropriate things in her belly and brain. “I could use the help. Thank you.”
Heat filled her cheeks, and she smiled like a woman who’d had an orgasm on a desk that morning, not to mention some incredible kisses—with tongue—before and after.
“Justine, will you walk us to the bus stop?” Aya asked, leaning forward to grab a strawberry slice from the bowl.
Justine’s gaze sliced to Bennett. She didn’t want to overstep. As much as she was enjoying breakfast with him and kids, if this was too much for him, he needed to tell her.
He nodded and shrugged, which Aya took as a green light and she smiled with a mouthful of strawberry.
Another twenty minutes at the house with the girls brushing their hair and teeth, and Bennett double-checking they had everything in their backpacks. Then they were all out the door.
Even though he told her that he and his brothers all walked the kids to the bus stop every morning, it completely evaded her mind until they stepped out in the drizzly morning and three more dads and four more kids yawned as they walked across the gravel.
The kids eyed her warily.
“How’re you settling into Casa Bennito?” asked the only brother she hadn’t officially met yet. This was probably Wyatt. His hair was dark brown and his blue-hazel eyes twinkled with a class-clown quality Justine was sure attracted ladies like sharks to chum.
“Always a chocolate on my pillow,” she said, glancing at Bennett.
“There is?” Aya asked, taking Justine’s hand. That gesture wasn’t lost on any of Bennett’s brothers.
“I’m kidding,” Justine said, squeezing her hand. “But it’s been lovely. I have three wonderful hosts.”
“Are you baking cakes for the cakewalk, Uncle Ben?” the little boy holding Wyatt’s hand asked.
“I am,” Bennett said. “Justine is going to help me. Any flavor requests?”
“Funfetti,” the boy said. “With gummy bears.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Bennett winked at his nephew before turning back to Justine. “How skilled are you at Funfetti?”
“It’s been a while, but I think I can handle it.”
The little boy beamed.
“Dad, is Justine coming to the funfair tomorrow?” Emme asked. She’d politely requested a tight single Dutch braid from Justine, and although Justine’s hair was poker-straight and Emme’s was lush, thick and curly, the little girl seemed happy with what Justine managed to accomplish. Aya wanted pigtails not braided, sticking out the sides of her head like bike handlebars. Then she shook her head quickly back and forth, so the hair smacked her in the face and she giggled like a loon.
Intrusive moths took flight in Justine’s belly as all eyes fell to Bennett. Even Justine waited with bated breath for an answer.
He absorbed the intensity of the moment, but then brushed it off with a casual shrug. “If she likes. It’s open to the public. The more money the school can raise, the better.”
That seemed to appease Emme, and she nodded. “You’ll come, right, Justine?”
“I, uh …”
“Oh, please,” Aya said, jerking on her arm.
“Aya, don’t be so rough with Justine,” Emme chastised at the same time she slipped her hand into Justine’s free hand, grinning up at Justine with hope in her sloe-brown eyes. “But you will, right?”
How could she say no to either of these children?
With reluctance, making her peanut butter toast uncomfortably churn in her belly, she nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
All the men exchanged silent looks among them, but nobody said anything.
They reached the bus stop just as the rain picked up. Kids pulled hoods over their heads, Emme unfurled an umbrella with smiling cartoon llamas on it and she, Aya, and Clint’s daughter, Talia, huddled under it. The boys didn’t seem bothered by the rain and were doing parkour off some large boulders and logs.
“You don’t have to come,” Bennett said to her under his breath. “I can make up an excuse to the girls. They’ll be fine.”
Well, now she didn’t know if this was him kindly giving her an out, or his way of gently asking her not to come.
He must have read her mind. She’d never been very good at keeping her emotions off her face, and panic filled his blue gaze. “This isn’t me telling you not to come. I’d love it if you came. But if you felt backed into a corner by the girls, I can help you get out of it. But I’m not—” He exhaled and shoved his fingers into his hair. “I’m not telling you not to come. I think it’d be great if you came.”
She didn’t have to turn her head to know that his brothers were watching—and listening—to their exchange with keen interest.
“You should definitely come,” Clint piped up. “Brooke will be there. I think she’s offered to help run the concession stand for part of the time.”
“She is,” Talia confirmed. “She said she’s going to slip me some extra popcorn.” Her dark brows bobbed up and down playfully.
“I’m taking tickets for the bouncy castle for ninety minutes,” Wyatt chimed in. “And Dom’s running the ring toss, right?”
“For ninety minutes,” Dom confirmed, tugging the hood of his hoodie over his man bun and shoving his hands into his pockets.
“And I’m on child-minding duty while these guys volunteer,” Clint added. “Then I’m manning the photobooth for ninety minutes. And Jagger is helping out at the face painting tent.”
“Wow, it’s a real family affair. Huh?” Justine said just as the big, yellow school bus whipped around the corner, the tires making a sizzling sound on the wet asphalt.
“Many hands make light work.” Wyatt wrangled his two boys, kissed the tops of their heads, and helped the younger one climb up onto the bus when the door opened. “’Mornin’, Mr. Figgs,” he said to the bus driver.
“Good morning, McEvoys.” The bus driver’s green eyes slid to Justine. “And good morning, friend of the McEvoys.”
Justine’s cheeks warmed, and she smiled and waved. “Good morning, Mr. Figgs.”
One-by-one, the children climbed onto the bus, greeted Mr. Figgs, then once they were all seated, waving at their dads, the bus pulled away.
If the walk to the bus stop was awkward, the walk back was ten times worse.
Dom and Wyatt were in front, talking quietly with their shoulders rounded, hands in their pockets, as the rain drenched their hoodies, while Bennett, Clint and Justine walked behind.
“So, you two are baking all day?” Clint asked.
Maybe Justine was too much in her head and had sex with Bennett on the brain, but the way Clint asked her that felt like such an innuendo.
“Yeah. Four dozen cupcakes and four cakes,” Bennett replied, shaking his head. “What idiot agreed to do that?”
Clint snickered. “A big idiot.”
“Gee, thanks.”
They reached the fork in the road. Dom and Wyatt jerked their chins in farewell before heading into the pub, but Clint paused. “You going to check on cabin five?”
“I checked yesterday and Cam came over. He figures what’s going to warp has warped, and we can probably start pulling out all the damaged flooring, trim, and cabinets this weekend.”
Clint’s head bobbed. “De-hums are still going.”
“Yeah, figured we may as well. No guests have complained so far. Doesn’t hurt anything.”
“Any word on the trailer for Justine?”
Oh right! The trailer. She was supposed to move into a more permanent temporary home, away from Bennett and his daughters. A tightness she didn’t like formed in her chest.
“Arrives tomorrow.” Bennett’s eyes found Justine’s and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of sadness in that deep, dark blue. Was that just wishful thinking on her part? Was she projecting her own melancholy and seeing things that weren’t actually there? “But I figure I’ll park it up on top in the gravel across from our house. There’s no good spot to hook it up down here and I can run an extension cord from my house. So she has power.”
Clint’s eyes glimmered like he knew a dirty little secret and he was also trying to keep a smile from curling his lips, but wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “Makes sense.” Then it was like a lightbulb flicked on in his brain and he snapped his fingers. “That’s who you remind me of.”
Obviously, he meant Justine. She hiked her brows a little.
“Lucy Liu.”
Justine rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Uh, no. But thanks for the compliment.”
Justine absolutely did not look like the stunning Lucy Liu. She wished.
“No, seriously. You do. Same face shape. She has freckles too. You totally look like Lucy Liu.”
“Clint and Brooke are big mystery buffs. They love Sherlock Holmes and are binge-watching Elementary again. He’s got Lucy Liu on the brain,” Bennett said in an accusatory tone.
“I do not,” Clint argued.
Justine sucked in a deep breath. “Well, I’m not sure I agree with you, but I’m going to take it as a compliment because Lucy Liu is gorgeous. So thank you.”
Bennett glared at his brother for a moment, but Clint seemed unaffected by his brother’s mild ire. “Anyway, those cupcakes aren’t going to bake themselves,” Bennett said, his hand falling to the small of Justine’s back like it was the most natural thing in the world. Clint’s eyes followed his brother’s arm and a happy little tingle blossomed in Justine’s core, spreading outward from where Bennett’s firm hand rested just above her sacrum.
“I like red velvet,” Clint said with a chuckle.
“That’s nothing but food coloring and chocolate.” Bennett made a face of disgust as he turned Justine and himself around to head up the hill.
“Delicious, delicious food coloring,” Clint called back.
“So what kind of cakes are we going to bake?” Justine asked, needing to fill the air with words—any words—otherwise her brain was going to short circuit from how good it felt to have his hand on her back like that.
“Funfetti, obviously. Griffin would be disappointed if we didn’t make that.”
“Can’t let Griffin down.” They walked through the man door of the security gate single file, then instead of resting his hand at her back, he reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. An even bigger thrill filled her to the brim and the smile she fought to contain hurt her cheeks.
He glanced down at their hands, then back up to her, grinning. Then he swung their hands a little. “Is this okay?”
She could no longer contain her smile and nodded. “Yeah.”
They reached his front door, and she stepped aside so he could unlock it, but he snorted and just opened it. “We don’t lock our doors here. I’m not sure anybody on the island does.”
“And yet, you have a security gate?”
“That’s recent. You’ll have to ask Brooke about that one.” He closed the door with both of them inside and she found herself plastered up against the solid wood, with his solid wood pressing into her thigh as his mouth claimed hers.
She moaned into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss. “We need to get baking.”
“We do.” He didn’t stop kissing her.
“Seriously. We have a lot to do this morning.”
“We do.” Unlike the dads, she and the kids wore rain jackets, and she was dripping water everywhere. His hair was damp and droplets fell on her cheeks. His hoodie was wet too. But none of that deterred him from kissing her and fishing his hand up under her tank top.
She squeaked when his cold fingers brushed her abdomen.
“Shit, sorry.” But he wasn’t really sorry and laughed as he worked those icy digits higher until he cupped her over bra.
She laughed too, their lips still coasting across each other, tongues playfully tangling. “We need to get baking.”
“Okay then, get baking. I’m not stopping you.”
She groaned when he pulled down the cup of her bra and gently but forcefully pulled on her nipple. “Let’s get things in the oven, then we can take a break.”
“Or we take a break now, bake while I recover, then have round two when things are baking.”
Her eyes flared open to meet his blue gaze, full of lust and promise. “Round two?”
“I guess round three, seeing as round one, was this morning, and right now will be round two.” He peeled her out of her jacket, removed her cardigan, and lifted the tank top over her head until she was in jeans and a bra. Then he hoisted her up into his arms. “Your room or mine?”
That made her giggle as she looped her arms around his neck. “Mine.”