Chapter 38
“I don’t want it,” Paloma said, pushing the salad back toward Britt.
“Can’t you give it a try? For me? Please,” Britt said, hoping to coax her little girl into a few healthier eating habits.
She’d made the salad with different vegetables—spinach, broccoli, edamame beans—and added mango and strawberries for a splash of color to entice Paloma into eating it.
After watching what Lachlan fed the child over the last few days, she worried that Paloma wasn’t getting the vitamins and minerals she needed to grow healthy and strong.
“No, thank you,” Paloma said, blanching.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s … green. Green food is yucky,” she said definitively.
“Salad is green but also yummy and good for you. Don’t you want to eat food that will make you feel good and give you the energy to play more?” She tried a different angle.
“I’m five. I’m too young to eat food that’s good for me.”
“I see. So, what would you like for dinner?” Britt asked, leaning against the kitchen island. She could only imagine that the child would say something like pizza, or a hamburger, or macaroni and cheese—
“Goat fingers!” Paloma said, raising her arms triumphantly.
“Goat fingers,” Britt said, nodding her head. Her child was a Palmchatter, through and through. “Okay, let’s see if your Daddy has some goat fingers in the freezer.”
“He makes them himself with goat meat that he covers in colorful sprinkles,” Paloma explained. “We call them rainbow goat fingers.”
“Rainbow … sprinkles?” Britt was going to kill Lachlan if he was coating meat with candy to feed to their child. Even he knew better than to do that. Right?
Paloma jumped from the bar chair and ran to the pantry, disappearing inside. A few seconds later, she re-emerged with a box of colored goldfish—cheese snacks shaped like little fish in every color of the rainbow.
Britt chuckled under her breath, relieved.
“Do you think you can make it like Daddy?” Paloma asked, leveling her with a skeptical gaze. “Maybe we need to wait for him to get home.” She clutched the box of goldfish tight to her chest. Her eyes shifted from her to the salad that Britt dared to suggest she eat.
Britt wondered if the child was concerned that she would sneak something green and good for her into the goat tenders.
“Good point,” Britt said, glancing at the clock.
Lachlan would be home soon, and he could be in charge of dinner.
There was no point in wasting time making something else her daughter would turn her nose up at.
Besides her meal faux pas, day one of caring for her little girl had left her blissfully exhausted.
Whoever questioned whether being a full-time mom was a real job was crazy.
She was just happy that Lachlan had been right—Paloma loved the idea of forgoing Goat Scout Camp to spend her days with Britt.
They’d had a busy day filled with subtle educational activities of identifying tropical fruits at the King Family orchards, counting seashells, and practicing writing letters in the sand.
Paloma finally mastered writing an M without the extra peaks with her help.
A win in Britt’s book. But it wasn’t all work and no play.
They’d built a sandcastle and followed it up with splash time in the backyard pool.
It was enough distraction to stop Britt from thinking about the mystery man who’d stopped by, which the sex-fueled night of multiple orgasmic bliss had properly erased from her brain.
And she didn’t have time to think about Lachlan’s plan to pass off intel to Alejandro Cerundolo as a trade to keep her alive, either.
But she was determined to get an update on both when Lachlan got home.
“Why don’t you put the goldfish on the counter,” Britt said, then reached for Paloma’s hand. "We can look at the boats from the patio while we wait for Daddy to get home."
They walked out to the patio that overlooked the Caribbean Sea. The sun was dipping lower toward the horizon, and beautiful yachts bobbed in the crystal-clear turquoise water.
"That one's so pretty!" Paloma exclaimed, pointing to a yacht with gleaming white sides.
"It is beautiful," Britt agreed. "Look at how clear the water is. You can almost see the fish swimming underneath."
"I bet there are treasure fish down there," Paloma said, her eyes wide with excitement. "And rainbow coral and maybe even baby sharks!"
"Maybe," Britt said, smiling at her daughter's imagination. "The water here is home to all sorts of amazing sea creatures."
"I want to see them all," Paloma declared. "I want to take pictures of every single one!"
"That would be quite a collection," Britt said.
The patio door slid open. Britt turned and inhaled deeply at the sight of Lachlan standing there. He was the picture of brute masculinity, all muscular and rugged, his broad shoulders filling the doorway as his light eyes caught the golden glow of the setting sun.
"Daddy!" Paloma squealed, racing to him. “You’re home!”
Lachlan barely had time to set down his keys before Paloma launched herself at him.
“How was your day, hen? Did you have fun with your ma—” Lachlan hesitated, his gaze darting to Britt. He cleared his throat, then said, “Britt.”
“I love playing with Britt,” Paloma said, tilting her head back to look at Britt upside down. “Can she stay with us forever and ever?”
“That’s the plan,” Britt said, blowing her daughter a kiss, which she mimicked with great flair.
Paloma shifted back upright in Lachlan’s arms. “Daddy, I need my underwater camera. Where is it?”
Britt followed them into the house, unable to hide her amused smile as Lachlan's face registered confusion.
"Your underwater camera?" he asked carefully.
"Yes! I need it for tomorrow. I want to show Britt how to take pictures of the fish that live under the boats!" Paloma said with complete conviction. "I want to show her all the pretty fish we have here. We might get pictures of pirate treasure down there, too!"
Lachlan's eyes met Britt's over their daughter's head, silently asking for an explanation.
"We were looking at the yachts sailing to the harbor,” Britt explained.
"I have lots of pictures of fish, Daddy," Paloma continued seriously. “I just need you to find my camera so I can have it for tomorrow!”
Lachlan crouched down to Paloma's level. "I didn't know we had such a talented underwater photographer in the family."
"I've been taking pictures of fish since I was three,” Paloma said matter-of-factly, then pointed at a picture of herself holding a starfish on the beach. She turned to Britt. “I can teach you if you want."
Britt and Lachlan exchanged glances, trying not to laugh. Obviously, their little girl thought being in a picture was the same as taking one.
“We don’t have an underwater camera, hen. But I’m sure Britt could get Captain Charlie to take you on the glass bottom boat and see the fish in the water,” Lachlan explained.
“Captain Charlie?” Britt asked.
“He works for the King Family. Might be a nice treat for you and her,” Lachlan said.
“Okay, but I still need you to find my camera. I do have one,” Paloma said, mirroring his raised eyebrow expression and looking every bit like Lachlan’s child.
"How about we eat dinner first? Did I see rainbow goldfish on the counter?" Lachlan asked as they headed toward the kitchen.
"Yes!" Paloma said, instantly forgetting about underwater photography. “We want rainbow goat tenders and no salad. Can you believe Britt tried to make me eat food that’s green? Yuck!”
Britt sat at the kitchen island as Paloma assisted her father with all the pomp and circumstance she’d come to expect from the little girl.
They moved the dinner out on the veranda, watching the sunset as Paloma gave Lachlan an excruciating play-by-play of the day’s activities.
Britt ate her food quietly, enjoying having a family that was all hers.
No more wondering or second-guessing. This was where she belonged.
After dinner, Lachlan bathed Paloma, and she took over with bedtime story duty.
Paloma didn’t make it past the first half of the first book before she was sound asleep.
“You wore her out. She’s usually never asleep before nine o’clock,” Lachlan said, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her through the patio doors to the expansive terrace perched on the cliff's edge.
A panoramic view of the moonlit beach stretched below.
He settled onto the plush Balinese daybed, its teak frame draped with sheer white curtains that billowed gently in the evening breeze, and pulled Britt onto his lap.
“But I still couldn’t convince her to eat a single vegetable. She’s a stubborn one.” She tried not to pout.
“All kids are like that at her age.” Lachlan kissed her neck as his hand slipped beneath her shirt.
“Not so fast,” Britt said, shifting to look at him.
Lachlan’s eyes grew wide. “Did I do something wrong?”
“You haven’t filled me in on the man who came over last night. And I want an update on the plans to trick Alejandro—”
“I’m taking care of all of that.”
“You know that’s not good enough for me. I want details.”
“You sure you haven’t gotten all your memories back?” He frowned.
She swatted at his broad shoulder, then said. “Tell me, or I’m going to worry. And when I worry …”
“You take matters into your own hands, for better or worse.”
“That’s something I remember about myself, even if I don’t quite know what I’ve done in the past that worked or was disastrous.”
Lachlan took a deep breath. “The visitor from last night was Wesley Thomas, a PISCO leading the task force looking into the murder of Titus Freeman.”
“And what does any of that have to do with you?”
“Apparently, in gathering intel, they’ve discovered the same information that Hunter Quaid has—Alejandro Cerundolo wants to find me. Wesley wanted to know why.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. Pretended like I was clueless, which he didn’t believe. But it doesn’t matter.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because we got intel today that will satisfy Alejandro but not put the Palmchat Islands government at a disadvantage,” Lachlan said, his arms wrapping tighter around her. “I’ll be meeting with him tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow?” Britt shrieked. “That’s … soon.” Her heart pounded.
“The sooner I do this, the sooner you’re not in danger anymore, and we can live our lives without the threat of Quattro looming over us.”
She nodded, but something inside told her it wouldn’t be that simple.