5. Summer
SUMMER
W hen I awake the next morning, there’s something hard pressed up against my back.
Oh my God, what is that? Is that RJ’s dick?
I sit up quickly and breathe a sigh of relief when I realize I’m alone and it was just my Kindle wedged between my pillow and my back.
That’s all I feel. Relief. Not disappointment.
But the sudden movement and twisting has my shoulders screaming at me.
Fuck this sunburn. My thoughts drift to the way RJ carefully rubbed aloe on me last night.
It was so nice, but he was nice to me before too, and I still got hurt.
I spent my entire marriage as the nice wife, and I’m not going back to that version of myself.
I need to stay strong. I won’t repeat this cycle again.
I gingerly scoot out of bed, my eyes lingering on RJ’s empty side. Laughter sounds from the kitchen, and I emerge from the bedroom wholly unprepared for the sight in front of me.
“Morning, sunshine,” RJ calls out as he stands at the stove flipping a pancake on a griddle as the kids sit in stools around the island.
There’s an apron tied at the small of his back as he turns to scoop pancakes onto a plate.
Where did he get an apron? When he turns around, he’s wearing his glasses again.
Stupid slutty little glasses making him look like a sexy chef nerd.
I frown as I walk over to the coffee maker and grab a mug off the rack next to it. “I thought you only wore those for reading.”
He peers at me over his shoulder, but I continue fixing my coffee. Out of my periphery, I see him push the frames up his nose, and I try to pretend the move doesn’t have me clenching my thighs.
“I had to look up a recipe on my phone, and it was hard to read on the small screen.”
“You don’t know how to make pancakes?” I tease.
“Not without eggs. Logan asked for pancakes and told me you’ve made them with bananas as a base before. I wanted to make sure he could have what he wanted for breakfast since he was upset about not going out to dinner last night.”
Shit. How could I forget? I never forget. I walked out here and saw him making pancakes and didn’t even question him about eggs. That’s so not like me. His presence here is throwing me off. Distracting me from what’s most important. And how did he know Logan was upset?
I swallow thickly as I pretend the gesture hasn’t pierced my heart. “That was really nice of you. Did he say something to you?”
He takes a step closer, and I try not to inhale his scent. Try and fail. It’s citrusy with spice and a hint of bergamot. “I saw him run off after I mentioned going out to eat. He told me about the time he was accidentally served eggs at a restaurant,” he says in a low voice.
It’s obvious he’s trying to be discreet so the kids don’t overhear, and the thoughtfulness of that has me biting the inside of my cheek. “Oh.” It’s all that comes out. I know if I say more, my voice will break, and I don’t need anyone to fuss over me.
“Mom! We made pancakes!” Lucas says around a mouthful of food.
Taking a sip of coffee, I take a second, hoping the liquid will imbue me with the strength I’m lacking. “I see that.”
RJ hands me a plate of pancakes. I stare down at it, trying not to smile. He’s arranged blueberries as eyes and a nose and given it a bacon strip smile.
Why is the universe doing this to me? This is torture. First, he sees me topless, then he rubs aloe on me, and now this? Making me and my kids breakfast?
“Thanks.” Readjusting my mask of indifference, I take a seat at an empty stool, keeping my back to him as I take a bite. The instant it touches my tongue, I have to physically fight back the moan that wants to escape. And he’s a good cook.
He also drifts through life from one job to the next, according to Raven.
He has no dedication, a lack of follow-through I’ve experienced firsthand, and I don’t have time for someone who can’t handle commitment.
That’s it, list out all his flaws so his slutty little apron and glasses don’t hypnotize you.
“What do you have planned for today?” RJ’s question startles me as he stands way too close for comfort.
“I need to do a walk-through of the whole house, see if there’s anything that will come up on an inspection that we should take care of. And I should pull comps and talk to Raven about her goals. There’s so much to do. And I need to find her an agent since I don’t have a license in Florida.”
“Boring!” Lucas says, kicking the bottom of the counter.
“You’re working?” Lana asks. “I thought this was a summer vacation.”
RJ laughs behind me. “A Summer vacation. Get it? You’re Summer and it’s summer and you’re on a?—”
“Dad. You seriously need to stop talking. It’s embarrassing.” Sophie walks in and gives me an apologetic look, and I smile. At least someone’s keeping him humble.
“I won’t have to work the whole trip, but I should get some of this stuff done so we can enjoy the rest of the week. Plus, I could use a break from the sun.”
“Or you could’ve just let me apply sunscreen,” RJ quietly mumbles into his mug.
I look at him over my shoulder, unsure if he’s being condescending or flirty.
When he refuses to make eye contact, I have my answer.
Condescending prick. That’s right, Summer, keep telling yourself that so you’re not tempted to climb on top of him in the middle of the night.
I turn back to my plate and scoop up the last bite, talking while I chew.
“I’ll need to stage some initial photos for a listing.
That reminds me, I need to get my good camera out of my bag?—”
“I’ll get it!” Lana jumps off her stool and runs into my bedroom.
She walks back into the kitchen minutes later, holding my camera bag and a white box wrapped in a red ribbon. “What’s this?” She hands me the package.
I don’t recognize it in the slightest. “I don’t know what this is.”
Lucas leans over and pulls the ribbon, opening the box with a grin. “Cookies!”
Logan leans over and frowns. “They’re all broken.”
“Those look weird.” Lana pushes the box toward me.
“What do you mean?” I peer inside. Fucking Bella. I slam the top shut. “These aren’t any good. They’ve got egg in them.”
RJ’s head pokes over my shoulder. He’s so close, too close. I can feel the heat of him near my shoulders, under my skin. Or it could be my sunburn.
“Then how come that says, ‘no eggs’ in tiny writing?” He points to Bella’s handwriting on the top corner of the box.
I whip my head in his direction, ready to tell him to shut up, but he grabs it out of my hands and opens the lid as Sophie peers over his shoulder.
It’s comical watching his eyebrows pinch.
Then one lifts in curiosity before they shoot to his hairline in surprise.
He’s obviously never seen Bella’s cockies before, which is surprising.
Surely, she would’ve sent some with Hardy to the fire house at some point? “Your mom’s right. These have poison.”
Lana puts her hands on her hips. She’s my no-nonsense kid—she has to be to put up with her brothers—and she can spot bullshit from a mile away. “Poison? Why would Mom have poison cookies in her suitcase that she didn’t remember putting there?”
Smiling, I study his face for a response. He fumbles for a second, opening and shutting his mouth. Then he looks at Logan. “Because they clearly have eggs which means they’re poison.”
Lana narrows her eyes. “But it says ‘no eggs’ on it.”
“They must’ve made a mistake. These definitely have eggs in them. I can tell by looking at them. I’ll just throw them out so no one gets sick.”
Luckily Lana decides to let it go. “I’m gonna watch YouTube on my tablet.” She slides off the stool and climbs the stairs, her brothers hot on her heels.
“So now that the kids are gone, are you going to divvy up the dick cookies?” Sophie thrusts out her hand.
“You coulda backed me up so I didn’t have to go on and on about poison.” RJ slides the box across the island.
Sophie laughs. “You’ve always been a terrible liar.
Ooh! A beach ball.” She sets a broken piece of cookie on the granite countertop as she searches through the box.
“Here’s another one. I think those are the balls.
And this surfboard is the penis!” She takes a bite of the cookie.
“These balls are cute, but this dick tastes amazing.”
RJ scrubs a hand down his face. “I could die happy never hearing those words come out of your mouth again.”
Sophie rolls her eyes. “It’s just a dick, Dad.”
“This is what I was talking about when we got here. I know you and your mom joke like this, but I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this kind of talk.”
“So guys can talk about women in the locker room and it’s okay, but girls can’t make dick jokes? It’s giving misogyny.”
“I didn’t say locker room talk was okay.” RJ holds his palms up in defense as she points the shaft at him.
I grab a cookie, shoving it in my mouth to stifle my giggle.
“And we’re talking about cookies, not actual dicks. Besides, the more we normalize talking about it, the less power the patriarchy has over us.” She takes a bite off the tip of the surfboard to make her point. I like this girl.
I reach for another beach ball. “That’s something Raven would say.”
“Who do you think taught me?”
“Look, I get it. I’m a feminist and I support you having the same rights as anyone else, but I don’t need to hear about your extra-curriculars. That’s what your mom and aunt are for. No dad wants to talk to his daughter about this stuff.”
I look between them as Sophie pieces cookies together while RJ shifts uncomfortably.
It’s surreal seeing him as a dad. I mean, I knew he was one, but I could never picture it.
He seems at ease in the role, comfortable, nothing like the aimless little brother Raven describes.
Maybe having Sophie has given him a sense of purpose?
It’s also satisfying knowing there’s someone in his life, other than Raven, giving him hell.