“My shift ends at seven.”
“Okay. I have to go, but I’ll find you before we leave. I want to make a donation.”
“You do? That’s wonderful. Any amount is appreciated.”
I drifted to the scores of faceless children. “No, I’m the one who appreciates it. Thanks, Paris.”
She pointed me to the back door. The home’s play yard was something to envy. Jungle gym, trampoline, life-size fire engine, bike pavilion, and black turf where a few of the younger girls made chalk creations.
“Belle! Belle!” The cannonballs came racing toward me. “Preston says you’re going to play with us.” I spotted him pulling up the rear.
“Preston is right. Have you ever played Mother Nature?”
“No, what’s that?” asked one of the girls.
“It’s like Simon Says, but we only do what Mother Nature does.”
“That sounds weird,” she stated.
“It’s Preston’s favorite game.”
“Okay, let’s play.”
“What are we playing?” he whispered in my ear.
“Just follow my lead.”
Twenty minutes in, he was regretting not taking off when he had the chance.
“Mother Nature sends a tornado! Tornado!” I cried. “Faster, faster, faster!”
Whirls of greens, browns, and reds. My hands whipped overhead, taken along as I spun faster and faster. The children shrieked, whipping around like tops. Preston’s bit-off curses added to their enjoyment.
“Mother Nature sends an earthquake!” I jerked and shook like a backup dancer in a music video. The kids howled as they stumbled around bumping into each other.
Preston tripped. “Shit!” He fell flat back at my feet. “What happened to tag? Or hide-and-seek?”
“Can’t handle it?”
“Nope.” He held out a hand for me to help him up.
“You’re not playing anymore, Preston?” Elise asked. You would’ve thought he was taking away her puppy from that pout.
“I’m going to get us something to drink. Apple, orange, and grape juice all around.” Preston winked. “Ladies, don’t you get any more adorable while I’m gone. I’m serious about that.”
Now they were stumbling around giggling for another reason.
Buckle up, girls. Their siren powers have a stronger effect the older you get.
“I’ll help you,” Nikki offered.
Preston let her hop on his back and the two raced off.
“We’re about to answer one of the top questions on a potential fiancé’s mind. How are they with kids?”
Preston was amazing with them. Sweet, funny, and patient. He knew their names and shared inside jokes with more than a few of them. That kind of thing came from regular visits outside of the marriage camp held every three years at the cove.
He spent zero minutes flirting with me and focused his attention on the kids. I couldn’t say if Rosalie had an underlying motive or what it was, but today was the first day I was glad to have come to the cove.
Preston and Nikki returned with the juice. We made a spot under a tree and sipped our cool treat. Preston stretched out next to me, pressing his back to the bark.
“How often do you volunteer here?” I asked.
“A lot. My family comes over every winter to escape the cold. We celebrate Christmas here with the kids.”
“You do? Every year?”
“Every year.”
Preston wiped a bead of sweat running down my temple. My pulse picked up speed at the casually intimate act. He didn’t mind my sweat on him. Didn’t care about the dirt stains on my shirt or my flushed cheeks. It suddenly occurred to me that our make-up-sex clock was spinning faster.
“Means a lot to my mom,” Preston continued, dragging me back to the present. “She lived in this home for a year.”
“She did? But...”
“My mom and uncle were adopted by Freya and Christopher Desai.”
I tried to keep the surprise off my face. I hoped I succeeded. “I didn’t know that.”
“Most don’t but it’s not a secret. They adopted them when she was seven and Uncle Gabriel was six. Of course there are people in the community who knew they didn’t have children before then,” he said. “It was during one of the summers my grandmother was hosting the event that she added volunteering to the schedule. She came here, met them, and the rest was history.”
“Huh. I guess it makes sense why upholding this legacy means so much to her. It gave her a family.”
“I think about that too,” he said, turning his face to the rays breaking through the leaves. “How different things could have been? If Mom bounced around in the system. If Gran and Gramps hadn’t sent her back here to meet Dad. If her teacher hadn’t reported her suspicions and my mom wasn’t taken from the piece of shit who abused her.
“I wouldn’t be here. You and I wouldn’t be sitting under this tree right now,” he said. “It’s crazy how many random events and spur-of-the-moment decisions determine your life. At some point you have to accept you don’t control the outcome.”
A heavy weight settled on my chest. “No one wants to admit that, do they? But it’s true.” Mal slipped through my mind. “If it was up to me, my life would be very different.”
“You wouldn’t be at the cove.”
“That too.”
“You wouldn’t have met me again at the reception,” he went on. “We wouldn’t have done things I can’t mention in front of children, and we wouldn’t be semi-dating. Maybe it’s a good thing we can’t control everything.”
“Good for who?”
“You’re not fooling me.” Preston took a noisy slurp of his juice. “I know how sirens like you operate. Proximity to your victims is how you reel them in. You wouldn’t be talking and spending time with me if I wasn’t next.”
I goggled at him. “I’m not a— It’s you who is—”
“You’re the worst of us all,” he said seriously. “There’s a price for being more beautiful than anyone has a right to be, and from the busted nose, trouble with my boys, and enraged soon-to-be fiancée, I’m paying it.”
“All right, you want tag? We’ll play tag. Preston’s it!”
The kids were on their feet in a blink. A howling Preston chased us across the yard. I tore for the fire engine. Ducking behind the ladder, I shouted his defeat.
“Belle, over here.” Nick grabbed my arm pulling me after him. I twisted and jerked to a stop.
A lone person stood on the other side of the fence, watching us. They were too far to make out a face, but the shape and build of a man was obvious.
“One second, sweetie,” I said as I slipped out of his grasp.
I walked, then jogged, then tore across the playground. “Hey!” I shouted. “Hey, you!”
The man started. He bolted a few feet and skidded to a stop, wheeling around at my cries.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he panted. “I wasn’t doing anything, I swear. Just looking.” The man who was definitely not Mal, disguised or otherwise, put his hands up like I’d arrest him. “I haven’t seen my daughter in months. I swear I just wanted to see her. I wasn’t going to talk to her.”