“Okay, how do younotknow what happens if you throw gas—”
“Stop.” Hannah held up her hand, cutting him off. “It’s s’mores time. Ooey-gooey marshmallow and chocolate, Brian.”
His younger brother had been smart to talk this woman into moving all the way across the country to marry him, Brian thought. “I do like ooey-gooey marshmallow and chocolate.”
“You sound so funny saying that,” she said, and then she laughed. Others joined in, but he didn’t mind because Siobhan was one of them, and he liked the sound of her laugh so much, he’d chant the words if they kept it going.
And that thought reminded him he needed to keephimself busy so he didn’t pay too much attention to Siobhan and Oliver. Which he did by keeping the mess on the picnic table in check, though he did manage to make a s’more of his own.
And he made sure he was looking when Oliver took his first bite. Siobhan was helping him hold it, and when he got his first mouthful of ooey-gooey marshmallow and chocolate, his blue eyes widened. Then he grinned, his little mouth coated in melted sugar and graham cracker crumbs.
Then Siobhan started turning her head and he looked away before their gazes could lock and they could silently share the moment. He didn’t feel strong enough right then to feel that connection with her—celebrating an adorable moment for the child they might be sharing for the rest of their lives. And the connection between them that had nothing to do with Oliver. He wasn’t sure which knocked him for a bigger loop.
Most of them only had one or two s’mores, but the younger crowd went hard and they burned through a lot of marshmallows and chocolate before Kevin’s son, Gage, and Sean’s son, Johnny—the last two standing at what Brian thought might be five each—called it quits. After assigning the teenagers to clean up the debris, and laughing when they groaned and held their stomachs, he went around the circle, offering wet wipes.
When he got to Siobhan and Oliver, it was clear she’d need some help with the child squirming on her lap. Despite his resolve not to get involved, he pulled out a wipe and knelt in front of her. “This won’t help much, but maybe you can get him back to the camper without him sticking to you or the grass or anything he comes in contact with.”
She chuckled. “I’m not sure how much he even got into his mouth.”
“But he enjoyed it, and that’s the point.” He swiped at the boy’s sticky cheeks, but it was a lost cause.
“You need to be a little more assertive with that wipe or you’re just going to smear the top layer of marshmallow around all night.”
“Maybe we should switch places,” he said, pushing himself to his feet.
He took Oliver so she could stand, not minding the sticky hands gripping his T-shirt. Once Siobhan moved, he sat down and settled the boy on his lap.
Siobhan knelt in front of them, resting her hand on Brian’s knee as she lowered herself to the grass.
That single touch broke through what remained of his resolve and he allowed himself to enjoy the warmth and pressure of her touch for the regrettably short time he could.
Why did it have to be her? Even though his divorce had left him bitter and disillusioned, he’d known he’d meet a woman someday who’d snap him out of it. He was surrounded by too much love and too many happy marriages not to believe that, despite a pretty staggering setback, he’d have that, too.
But of all the women to stir that desire in him again, why did it have to be Siobhan?
After a few minutes, she heaved a defeated sigh. “Isn’t one of the benefits of having a dog supposed to be the fact that they lick a kid’s face clean?”
He chuckled. “Absolutely, but not when chocolate is involved.”
“Right. Well, that’s the worst of it,” she said, once again using Brian’s knee to push herself to her feet. He tried toignore the renewed awareness as he set Oliver on his feet. “The rest is going to need hot soapy water.”
“Beep beep,” Oliver murmured, and Siobhan ran her hand over his hair.
“It’s his favorite book,” she explained. “He’s ready to curl up and read, which is his way of admitting he’s actually tired. I think we’ll head inside early tonight.”
“I think a lot of people will,” Emma said, glancing sideways at Sean, whose chin kept dropping until he’d jerk himself awake.
“Just wait until after the volleyball game tomorrow,” Steph said, looking a lot more chipper than the rest of them.
Leo gruffly cleared his throat. “Excuse me, after thewhatnow?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “After The Annual Kowalski Volleyball Death Match Tournament of Doom.”
Siobhan’s eyes widened. “Okay, that sounds even less fun than Water Ball of Doom.”
“If we wait until Saturday, Danny can play,” Brian pointed out.
Steph shook her head. “Tomorrow’s going to be cooler and overcast and Saturday is going to be wicked hot and humid. If we wait for Danny, the wholedeathmatch part might be literal and not just some ridiculous name you guys picked when you were too young to be allowed to name things.”
