Chapter 8
8
JONAS
Tiny fingers poke my cheek.
"Daddy." Poke. "Daddy, wake up." Poke poke. "Did you have a good meeting with Miss Minty?"
I open my eyes to find Jace's face approximately two inches from mine, her stuffed unicorn held so I can greet it good morning too.
I yawn and push myself up on my elbows. The events of last night come rushing back— Alexa's "professional" meeting, the way any distance between us evaporated almost instantly, the way her naked body felt under my hands.
"What time is it?" I mumble to no one, since my kid’s not old enough to tell time.
"Morning time," she chirps. "Lukas says it’s time to get up."
Speaking of Lukas, I hear him before I see him—the distinctive sound of him dragging his bag of beach toys toward the door of our suite.
"Buddy?" I call out. "What are you doing?"
He stops, struggling under the bag that is nearly as big as he is. "Getting ready for the beach."
"It's..." I check the clock, "five-thirty a.m. Go back to bed please. Both of you."
"But Miss Minty wants to play with us. She said so yesterday." He drops the bag with a thud and crosses his arms.
I try to process their immediate leap to including Alexa in our daily plans. Not that I have a problem with it. Not at all.
But that doesn’t mean she wants to spend all her days with us .
"Guys, Miss Minty is here to write an article. For work."
"But you went to her room." Jace bounces on the bed.
Jesus Christ, why do I tell them anything?
"I was helping her. With her article."
"The one about us?" Lukas drags his bucket out of the bag and the remnants of yesterday’s sand sprinkles all over the floor.
"C’mon kids,” I say, popping out of bed. “Back to sleep. At least for a couple more hours."
For some reason, an image of Genny's photo on my nightstand at home flashes through my mind. The guilt hits like a body check.
Fuck me. What have I done?
"Daddy?" Jace pats my cheek. "Are you having sad eyes?"
"No, baby. Just thinking."
"About Mommy?" Lukas abandons his beach toys and leans on the bed next to his sister. "She's watching us from heaven. That's what Gamma says."
"Gamma says she sends us special dreams," Jace adds seriously. "Maybe she sent us Miss Minty."
Good God. Who are these little people?
"Miss Minty makes you smile," Lukas points out. "Gamma says that's good."
"She told you that?"
"She says you need more smiles." He nods. "Miss Minty has a pretty smile.”
I look at my kids, so eagerly planning a future with someone they've known for a week. So easily accepting affection. So willingly making space in their world for someone.
Genny would love that about them.
The guilt shifts, making room for something else. Something I don’t recognize. Maybe non-guilt? But the minute I think about it too long, it comes screaming back.
"Daddy?" Jace tugs my hand. "Can we go get Miss Minty for breakfast? We’re having pancakes.”
"Pretty sure Miss Minty is sleeping, Jace. It's very early."
"But she PROMISED." Lukas protests. "She said breakfast at seven."
"Seven-thirty," I correct. "And it's not even six."
"But I’m hungry, Daddy. Now,” Jace says.
“Okay. Up you go,” I say, lifting both kids into my bed. “One on either side of me.”
They happily burrow under the covers with me, pancakes and the beach momentarily forgotten. I pull them to me, an arm wrapped around each.
“It’s too early for breakfast, too early for the beach. Everyone is still sleeping. That means we need to sleep too. Do you think you can sleep just a little longer? Until the pancake and the beach people get up?”
I pull them closer while Lukas nods.
Jace is already breathing steadily, her face so innocent, free of grown-up worries.
“Okay, Dad,” Lukas says. “We’ll all sleep while we’re waiting for pancakes and the beach. You too. You gotta sleep too.”
I turn to kiss his forehead. “I will, little man. I will.”
My mother in law’s video call comes just as I'm getting everyone into their bathing suits.
"My babies," she exclaims. Her face fills the screen, with my usually-video-shy father-in-law, Bert looking over her shoulder. "And Jonas... you look different.”
I think quickly. "Morning Gloria. Morning Bert. Good to see you. It’s incredible here. We’re having a great time," I say, but Gloria’s already zeroing in like a heat-seeking missile.
"Mmmm. Anything to do with that travel writer? The one TMZ seems interested in?"
"MISS MINTY," both kids scream, pushing me out of Gloria’s view. "Gamma, we’re having breakfast with her."
"Are you now?" Her smile could power a small city. "That’s great news.”
My phone buzzes. ESPN, wanting a pre-season interview. The subject line mentions "personal life developments" and "human interest angle." I forward it to Vince Vincent to deal with.
"Dad's gonna teach Miss Minty hockey," Lukas says, vibrating with happiness.
"Hockey AND princess stuff," Jace corrects.
Another notification on my phone. Haven’t these people ever heard of vacation? It’s my agent:
*We need to discuss image management. TMZ photos going viral. Fans are flipping over the 'finding love again' angle.
"Have you shown her your hockey moves, Lukas?" Gloria asks, looking beyond the kids crowding the screen in order to get a glimpse at me.
“Yes, Gamma, I’m going to. She needs to learn about hockey if she's gonna be our new?—"
"Lukas," I snap, but Gloria's already caught it.
"New what?" Her voice is too casual.
"New friend," I say firmly.
"New Frenchie," Jace announces happily.
"Better than Frenchie," Lukas stage-whispers. "'Cause she will do magic braids AND hockey."
My phone won't stop buzzing. Vince from PR:
*Working on the ESPN inquiry. Also, Today Show wants an exclusive. 'Hockey's Most Eligible Dad Finds Love.' Good story angle.
What the fuck? Is everyone pimping me out?
"Jonas." Gloria's voice turns serious. "Are you ready for this? The media attention? The public interest?"
"Gloria..."
"Because that girl sounds very nice. And in all the photos…”
"We're not discussing this."
Another notification. Sports Center wants a feature piece. Their social media manager has "exciting content ideas."
"She's a travel writer," I remind everyone, including myself. "She leaves after her article's done."
"Does she?" Gloria's knowing look is almost unbearable. "Because those photos tell a different story."
"What photos?" Lukas perks up.
"Nothing," I say quickly. "Adult stuff."
"About Miss Minty?" Jace bounces closer to the screen. "She’s pretty."
My agent again:
*Momentum's perfect for contract negotiations. Family man image plus new romance? Marketing gold.
"She's here to work," I say firmly. "To write about the resort."
"And braid my hair," Jace adds.
"And eat pancakes,” Lukas chimes in.
"And maybe," Gloria says, "to find something unexpected?”
Oh God. I am so done with this call.
I glance at my phone. More notifications. More requests. More people wanting a piece of this story that isn't even a story yet. That might never be a story.
Correction. That won’t be a story. There’s just no way.
Through my balcony window, I look down and over and spot Alexa on her balcony, working on her laptop. She gazes out at the ocean for a moment, thinking, then returns to typing with a slight smile, that smile that makes me forget about PR strategies and media angles.
And remember last night and her mouth on my…
"What do you think?" Gloria asks, snapping me out of it.
"Oh. Right. I don't know." I watch Alexa work, so focused, so professional. So different from my reality.
"Love doesn't wait, Jonas." Gloria's voice sounds like Genny's. "It just happens."
Another buzz. The team owner this time:
*Hear congratulations are in order? Good timing with season tickets about to go on sale.
What is going on? I have a few meals with a woman who interacts with my kids, and suddenly I’m walking down the aisle? Hell, do all these people also know I’m been naked with her too?
"Daddy?" Jace tugs my hand, apparently done video chatting with Gamma. “Time to go. Let’s go. Now.”
I look at my daughter's hopeful face. At my son arranging his beach toys "in case Miss Minty wants to play with them too."
“Yes, let’s get going, kids. Say goodbye to Gamma and Gramps.”
Their cheers drown out Gloria's and Bert’s laughter.
My phone buzzes one more time. Alexa:
Thank fucking God.
Are we still on? Everything under control there?”
I look at the mess around me – the sand-covered floor, the beach toys Lukas is re-packing, or trying to, and the kids already fighting over who gets the extra-large beach towel.
Define 'control'
Relatively controlled anarchy?
Hell no
Perfect. See you in 10
It happens during breakfast with my pancake-obsessed children, in a deceptively peaceful moment. We're at the resort's beach café, the kind of casual place that provides crayons and the kind of endless patience I wish I had. Alexa's helping Jace color her kids' menu while I try to convince Lukas that pancakes do not require the whole bottle of syrup.
Alexa steals my bacon when she thinks I'm not looking, making the kids giggle every time. She's relaxed, natural, like she's forgotten to maintain her professional distance. Such as it is. We keep stealing glances at each other, remembering the night before and smiling.
That's when it happens.
"Can you help me draw a flower, Mommy?" Jace asks.
Dead silence.
Pretty sure even the seagulls stop screeching.
Alexa freezes, the color draining from her face. Lukas stops mid-bite, eyes wide. Even the waves seem to pause, holding their breath with the rest of us. The only person who’s oblivious is Jace, who is organizing her crayons by size.
“Miss Minty? Can you help me?” She’s completely unaware of her slip.
I watch Alexa's face cycle through emotions faster than a power play—shock, panic, amusement, then back to panic. Her hand trembles slightly as she sets down Jace’s crayon, precise and careful, like she's handling something explosive.
"I should..." She stands abruptly, nearly knocking over her water. Some splashes on the Jace's drawings, making the colors run. "I need to... work. Article stuff. Very important deadline."
But I catch the look in her eyes before she turns—pure terror, like she's just realized exactly what she's gotten herself into by having breakfast with us.
"Alexa—" I start, but she's already backing away, professional mask returning to her face.
"I'll just... I need to..." She grabs her bag, nearly dropping it in her haste. "Editor waiting. Deadlines."
She practically runs from the café, leaving behind half-drawn flowers and complications I sure as hell don’t know how to address. A crayon rolls across the table, and tumbles onto the floor. None of us pick it up.
"Did I make Miss Minty mad?" Jace's lower lip trembles
"No, honey." I pull her onto my lap, my heart breaking at her confusion. At how easily she was able to see Alexa in the role of her mother.
"Miss Minty has a lot of work to do."
"But she was helping with my picture." Jace points to the half-colored flower, its petals now smudgy from the spilled water.
"Sometimes grown-ups like to be alone," I explain, though I'm not sure I understand it myself. How do you explain emotional complexity to a three-year-old when you barely understand it yourself? “Sometimes they just want a little quiet for a while.”
"You made her sad,” Lukas yells at Jace, whose face finally crumbles.
"No, I didn’t,” she hollers back through tears. A couple diners look our way, but most ignore us. They know the drill. “Daddy, did I make her go away?”
"No, baby." I kiss her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. "No, you did not. Please don’t say things like that, Lukas.”
I get it. I get why Alexa took off like her ass was on fire. I probably would have done the same, if I were in her shoes.
This isn't just about breakfast dates and romps in the hay. This is complicated. Scary. We’ve got two tiny hearts at stake, hearts that maybe have already decided to love her.
Shit, shit, shit.
Later, after I've settled the kids with the resort's activity program, I find Alexa by the adult pool. She's typing furiously on her laptop, professional mask firmly in place, but I notice her hands shake slightly when I cast a shadow on her.
"That was quite an exit."
She doesn't look up. "Deadlines."
"Alexa."
"Very important article things. About family-friendly activities. Very professional observations."
"About breakfast?—"
"I don't want to talk about it." Her typing gets more aggressive, like she's trying to drown out the conversation with keyboard clicks. "I want to focus on work. On not..." She trails off.
"Not becoming someone's mom?"
Her hands still on the keyboard. "I don't do families."
"You seemed to be doing okay with this one."
"That was before..." She gestures vaguely at the air between us. "Before it got real. Before it got... complicated."
"It's been real," I say. "Since that first splash in the pool. Since the first time you made Jace laugh. Since the first time Lukas showed you his hockey moves."
Finally, she looks at me. "I'm not their mom."
"I know."
"I don't know how to be a mom. I don't want to be a mom.”
"I get that,” I say, taking a seat on the lounge chair next to her. I take a chance and run a finger along her gorgeous, tanned thigh.
She watches me, and I watch her watching me.
“Last night was amazing,” I say, venturing further up her thigh.
“No, Jonas, I don’t think we…”
“All I can think about, Alexa, is your beautiful skin, and how you moaned…”
“God, Jonas, you really shouldn’t…”
I get to my feet and extend my hand. She’s got to realize I mean business. “I have an hour and a half before I need to get the kids.”
She takes my hand, I help her to her feet, and we walk quickly.
The woman is a sex fiend.
Praise Jesus.
While a sweet, warm breeze floats in through her open windows, my lips cover the peak of her breast. A cry breaks from her lips as my tongue flickers over and around the point, rasping sensitive flesh with my greedy tastes.
“I’m going to make you come just from this,” I tell her. “Just from me playing with your tits.”
“Mmmm. Yes. Please,” she rasps, kneading my shoulders as I lower my mouth to her inviting breasts once again. They are big and bouncy, with glorious gold dusted skin topped with large, dusky nipples. Every time I nip at her, she lets out a moan. So, I keep my attention focused on them, licking and sucking and nipping on one breast while my fingers squeeze, pull, and roll the other. I alternate, loving the taste of her skin and the sounds she is making.
I push both breasts together and run my tongue over both nipples at once, and her head falls back. “Yes,” she hisses. “Oh, God, I’m going to come.”
And she does, her body trembling as she lets out a long, low moan.
Holy fuck. A woman who comes from breast stimulation. Heaven.
“I want to fuck your tits,” I bark, motioning for her to sit on the edge of the bed.
She obeys, pushing her breasts together herself. Standing, I stroke my dick as I look at her, then beat it a few times against each nipple. Precum leaks from the tip and leaves a trail. I step closer and push my cock between her mounds, loving the way they feel along my length.
Alexa pushes them together harder, making a tight, hot valley for me to thrust into. I brace my hands against the headboard behind her and fuck her breasts. Every so often, she leans her head down and licks the head of my dick as I thrust upward.
“Yeah, baby, just like that. Fuck,” I groan. Her mouth and tits feel like glory, and I indulge in the sensation for as long as I can stand it.
I want to come inside her, so I thrust a few more times before stepping back and laying her down. We are soaking with sweat despite the breeze.
Her hands spear into my hair and insert one of my thighs between hers. I move quickly between them and plunge deep inside. So fucking good.
I push her legs up and back, lifting her closer, tilting her hips as I thrust deep and hard, desperate lunges that make her hold tightly to my neck.
“You like this?” I ask.
She can’t speak. She only moans at the shift of my body inside her, above her, surrounding her.
“And this?” I murmur, changing the angle so that she gasps. “How ‘bout this?”
With a long, low moan, she explodes into a shocked cry as I find that secret place where delight borders on pain. My growl of satisfaction tells her I know. And then there is nothing else beyond my body taking hers, the wet slick of me inside her and the wicked counterpoint of my fingers.
Again, she hangs, blind with need, on the edge of that fiery abyss. I hold her there, gasping and shaking, every stroke of my body into hers both a searing delight and an agony of delay.
I pull back and wait, and she cries out in protest as I withdraw. I surge back inside and she screams as she succumbs, shattering around me. My control snaps at her utter surrender.
Again and again I take her, without compromise, without restraint, driving deeper and deeper into the tight pussy convulsing around my cock. Consummation, white hot and relentless, crashes over and through me. I drive in one last time, shuddering with a release as I pour deep inside her.
I hang over her for a moment, dazed, blind with pleasure, and then collapse onto her soft, trembling body with a groan. Nothing has ever been so good. I’m surprised I survived it.
Mustering my strength, I ease to the side. With a sigh, Alexa turns on her side and nestles closer to me, one hand sliding over my chest.
Touching my heart.