“Not yet, you’re not,” I growl against the shell of her ear. “But it won’t take me long.”
“Ezra,” she whisper-yells. “Your brother is on the other side of the door, you horndog.” She tries to push me off, but I’ve unleashed my dead weight, and she’s struggling. “Knock it off,” she laughs beneath me.
I tickle her until she cries “safe word.”
“Fine.” I hop off the bed, my cock still eager.
Millie takes notice of my length and breaks out in a wicked smirk. “Later, okay? Promise.”
A cold shower and a quick hair wash to get rid of leftover marshmallows is all I need to sober up. Fifteen minutes later, the three of us take a golf cart to the cafeteria, where breakfast is being served. Bea is seated between her grandparents, and Ethan is cutting up her Belgian waffle. When Bea spots us, she stands, unintentionally dipping her little fingers in syrup in the process. Asher intercepts like a ninja with a wet wipe seconds before she reaches us.
Damn. Kids are sticky. I didn’t get the privilege of knowing Kane when he was little, but even at fifteen, things are still…sticky. At least when it comes to laundry.
Over breakfast, I sit back and listen as Bea and Kane plot our day. Since we couldn’t possibly fit all their plans into a twenty-four-hour period, we help them narrow down the activities, paddle boarding being first on the agenda. An activity where Millie must wear a bathing suit? Sign me up.
“Can you swim?” I ask Bea once she has her life jacket on.
Asher got called into the office, so he left his daughter with us.
“Uh, can fish swim?” She puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head to the side.
“Yes? But you’re not a?—”
“I’m a fish.” With that, she skips off to the end of the dock where Kane is waiting. Asher wouldn’t leave his daughter if she didn’t know how to swim, right?
Bea insists on riding on my board, and I nearly have a heart attack when, about halfway across the lake, she screams “cannon ball” and jumps off. I leap in after her, but it’s unnecessary. Bea may actually be a fish after all. That kid is fearless.
Millie is cackling on her board nearby, clearly already aware that her niece can swim. With Bea safely bobbing above the surface in her extra-small life jacket, I sink into the water. I count to thirty, then push the bottom of Millie’s board up and knock her into the water.
She surfaces quickly, sputtering and with her hair stuck to her face. “You mother?—”
“Ah-ah.” I cock a brow and nod at the four-year-old.
She splashes me instead of cussing me out. Bea finds this hilarious and mimics the move. Pretty soon, Kane jumps into the lake and joins us in our shenanigans. After we’re all thoroughly waterlogged, we paddle back to shore and engage in a mud castle–building contest.
In the stables after lunch, I hand Millie a helmet.
Rather than take it, she crosses her arms and steps back. “No thanks. Horses freak me out.” She wanders to the other side of the fence and props herself up on one of the posts as Rachel helps Bea onto a pony.
“Seriously? But don’t you read all those country cowboy rodeo books?” I specifically remember her going into detail about a very steamy stable scene recently.
Nose scrunched, she huffs. “There’s a reason it’s calledfiction.”
Damn, she’s cute when she’s riled up.
Straightening, she peers over her shoulder. “Where’s Kane?”
“He went on the trail with your dad.”
She smiles at that, the expression soft.
Fuck, is she thinking what I’m thinking? Our families meshso well.
I join her on her side of the fence and pull her in by her hip so she’s flush against me, and every time Bea rides by, we wave and snap pictures.
Not only are kids sticky, but they also don’t come with off buttons. Kane and Ethan are gone for quite a while, and during that time, we’ve taken Bea to pottery and swimming in the lake again.
At dinner, Bea ends up wearing more spaghetti than she consumes, and when she can’t eat her ice cream without yawning, Millie’s parents offer to put her to bed.
