13. Mia
MIA
I completely get the attraction to single dads, or even just men being wonderful with babies and kids. I see it all the time at the library.
But I have never found a man interacting with kids as attractive as I find David with his nieces.
Of course, I already find David attractive, so that’s part of it.
And his nieces really are irresistible.
Chelsea is so sweet and protective of her sisters. She had Del, the youngest, drive with her on the four-wheeler and went faster and over bigger rises and dips just to make Del laugh. She is completely tuned in to her sisters.
Ray is the wild one. I rode with her. And there wasn’t a curve or ramp-like hill that she missed, and it wasn’t for me. It was all for her.
Del, the baby, thinks her sisters are amazing.
Only slightly less amazing than their grandma and grandpa, who are only slightly less amazing than their dad.
She looks at Jack with stars in her eyes.
She’s the talkative one. The outgoing one.
The one who asks a million questions. Questions that Chelsea patiently answers correctly, and Ray answers with outrageously wrong answers.
But answers that are so wrong that Del even knows it, and laughs as if every single one is the funniest thing she’s ever heard.
My two hours with them have flown by, and I wish I could come up with a reason to see them again.
But now that David is here too, I never want to leave Delaney and Tucker’s house.
Unless David wants to take me to his house.
And it’s getting worse—better?—by the minute.
Right now, the rugged, broody, over-protective game and parks officer, who looks so good in work boots, and his uniform, stomping around outdoors, is sitting at his mother’s dining room table with his big, calloused hands spread on top of paper placemats, letting his youngest niece paint his thumbnail a bright fluorescent blue.
I’m painting his other thumbnail a pretty pale pink.
Which means I get to touch that big, warm, calloused hand. A lot.
I’m touching it—and his thick wrist and his muscular forearm—more than I really need to.
Though I’m sure he doesn’t know that. There is no way David Bennett has ever had a manicure before.
But he actually needed this. His cuticles were a mess before we made him soak his fingers, then pushed back his cuticles, and trimmed them.
I did that part.
Not because I got to hold his hand and touch him even more. Okay, not just because of that, but because there is no way five-year-old Del could handle the cuticle cutters.
Sure, Sloan could have done it right after she did Jack’s and Chelsea’s. She is quick and efficient. But I wanted to do it. Even though I’m no manicure aficionado. And even though I made two of his cuticles bleed.
He swore he didn’t even feel it.
I actually believe him. Especially after he used the opportunity to tell the girls about all the different animals and bugs that have bitten him over the years.
There have been a lot.
The wide eyes and “wows” from his nieces are worth a little blood.
Okay, easy for me to say. But the girls are very impressed.
As am I, actually.
He might be making it all up, but I don’t think so.
The guy is tough and, dammit, that’s sexy. I’m a bookworm who really likes the indoors, but this guy who spends more than fifty percent of his time outside in the elements, with wildlife, really gets me going.
So, I promised him I would massage oil into his cuticles extra carefully after he’s all painted. He gave me a lazy smile when he said, “I’m holding you to that,” which made heat swirl through my stomach.
And panties.
“My mommy used to paint every one of my nails a different color.”
I lift my head quickly to look at Del.
David is looking at her too. I think he’s holding his breath.
I know I am.
“I couldn’t pick a favorite color, and she said I didn’t have to, that all colors are great and I could have all the colors,” Del says, her face scrunched up as she concentrates on David’s thumbnail.
I swallow and look over at Jack. He’s seated across from us with Chelsea on one side, painting his right hand, and Sloan on the other, painting his left hand. The idea is that the adult woman will demonstrate painting the nails on one hand while the little girl does the other hand.
Of course, Chelsea and Sloan are now staring at Del. And Jack looks like his daughter just slapped him.
I assume they talk about Kaitlyn, but maybe he just wasn’t expecting Del to bring her up so casually.
Chelsea’s expression is impossible to read.
I lost my mom at the same age. I know how hard it is to process that loss at an age where you’re old enough to understand she’s not coming back, but you’re too young to really know how that’s going to impact everything for the rest of your life, and you discover it over and over again.
Then I look over at the middle girl, Ray. She’s on Tucker’s lap with Delaney beside them. Ray already has three of her grandpa’s fingers painted.
She’s staring at his hand but not painting. And not saying anything.
All of the adults are staring at Del, though.
I share a look with Sloan. Her expression clearly says, “Oh my God, help, what do we do?”
I have no idea. We’re the guests here.
“That sounds very cool, can you do that to mine?”
My eyes go to David’s face. He’s concentrating on his niece. He’s looking at her with wide, excited eyes and a big smile.
If I weren’t this close to him, I wouldn’t have noticed the stiff way he’s holding his shoulders or how fast the pulse at the base of his throat is pounding.
Del talking about her mom is killing him a little, but she won’t see anything but happiness.
“I guess so.” Del looks at me. “Can we do that many colors?”
I nod quickly. “Of course. Part of the fun of manicures is getting to do whatever you want to your nails. You look at them the most so they should make you smile whenever you look down.”
I’m smiling widely too and praying that the little girl can’t yet tell when adults are faking it ’til they make it.
Del looks up at David. “Would it make you smile?”
Oh, my god. I swallow hard.
“Are you kidding?” David asks. “Your mom was so cool. I want to do anything she did.”
Del sits up straighter. “She was cool?”
“ Very cool,” David tells her.
“You were her friend?” Ray asks.
David looks at his other niece. “Definitely.”
His neck is straining with keeping his smile in place. I can’t resist—I squeeze his hand. His fingers wrap around mine immediately. Tightly.
“Your mom was so cool and so sweet,” David goes on. “She always made everyone feel good and…” He hesitates.
I don’t know what he’s about to say, but I squeeze his hand again. He should say it. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.
He takes a little breath, then says, “I miss her a lot.”
Oh…
My heart flips, and I feel tears prick the backs of my eyes.
But I look at Del, and I know that yes, he definitely should have said that. These girls need to know that their mom was loved and that she’s missed.
Del gives him a little smile that’s sad around the edges. “I do too.”
“I know you do, baby,” David says roughly. He leans over and kisses the top of her head. “So I definitely want you to paint my nails with The Kaitlyn. Then I can look down and smile and think of you and her doing this together. That will make me so happy.”
Del’s smile grows.
“The Kaitlyn?” Ray asks. “What’s that?”
“This nail paint,” David says as if it’s obvious. “You know how they sometimes name motocross tricks after certain riders who do it first or do it really well?”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but Ray nods. And I make a mental note to look up motocross and motocross tricks later.
“So this is The Kaitlyn after your mom.”
Ray’s smile is wide now, too.
I hear Chelsea sniff, and I have to swallow hard again as I see Jack pull her up against his side in a hug.
“That’s so cool,” Ray says.
“It is. Can I have that too?” Tucker asks.
“Only on one hand,” Delaney says. “We’ve already got that hand almost done.” She looks at Ray. “But you can paint mine too, if you want to.”
“You’re going to get your nails done?” Tucker asks, his tone teasing.
“I don’t do my nails because of the manual work I do with my hands every day,” Delaney informs him. “But the girls can practice on me.”
Tucker acts offended. “I farm . You don’t think that’s manual work with my hands?”
“Sure, it is,” Delaney says, patting his arm. “It’s just not… as manual.”
“What?” Tucker demands with an over-exaggerated gasp.
Delaney nods, but she’s grinning now. “You have tractors and combines and all kinds of tools. You don’t really get your hands in it the way I do my work.”
Tucker draws himself straighter. “I’ll bet your manicure lasts longer than mine does.”
“I’ll take that bet,” Delaney says, nodding.
“But you can’t smudge it or chip it or take it off on purpose,” Tucker warns.
“Tucker Bennett, are you saying you think I might cheat ?” Delaney demands.
Tucker leans in. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Everyone is grinning now. Delaney laughs. “How are we going to keep each other honest?”
“Ray goes with you to work, and Del comes with me,” Tucker says.
“Yay!” Both girls cheer.
“But you have to tell on Grandpa if he messes with his manicure,” Delaney tells Del. She leans over. “And you can’t let him buy you off with ice cream.”
Del giggles. “I won’t.”
“Yes, you will,” Ray says. “I should go with Grandpa, and Del should go with Grandma.”
“Okay!” Del agrees.
“But you have to tell on Grandma then, and you can’t let her buy you off with cookies,” Tucker says.
Del is laughing so hard now David has to take the polish bottle from her.
And just like that, the melancholy memories of Kaitlyn pass.
We settle back in to paint nails, and everyone around the table ends up with a manicure, including at least one hand that is a rainbow of colors.
We also have an entire birthday party planned, and Sloan and I are invited and accept happily.