I rolled my eyes. “He’s not my dad crush. He’s just my neighbor.”
“So you haven’t fooled around with him again?”
I took another sip. “I didn’t say that.”
My sister laughed, kicking off her shoes and tucking her legs beneath her. “Tell me everything.”
“There’s not much to tell. We hung out on Thursday night and . . . stuff happened. But we hung out all day today, and nothing happened.”
“What did you do today?”
I told her about playing salon with the girls. “I painted their toes and they did my hair, which was—interesting.”
Millie laughed. “Remember when we played salon and Felicity cut her bangs so they were like an inch long?”
“Yes!” I howled at the memory. “Dad was so mad at us. There were no scissors involved today, but there were a lot of accessories. They brought over a bag of hair bows. I looked like I’d been gift-wrapped by a toddler.”
“Where was their dad during all this?”
“He was there, drinking coffee and laughing at me. Then I suggested he let them do his hair, and when they begged and pleaded, he couldn’t say no.” I giggled at the memory. “They stuck a headband with pink cat ears on his head and he caught me taking a picture with my phone.”
“Let me see!”
I dug through my purse and found my phone, then brought up the picture of a scowling Dex to show her.
She burst out laughing. “That is one furious feline. But damn, he’s hot.”
“He was so mad when I wouldn’t delete it.” I dropped my phone back in my purse. “He threw me in the pool later, even though I told him I didn’t want to get my hair wet.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Sounds like a fun day.”
“It was.”
She sipped again. “I know you said you guys are not Dad and Frannie, but something about all this seems very familiar.”
I sighed in exasperation. “I swear it’s not like that with us. Dad and Frannie were in love. Dex and I are not. In fact, that’s one of our inside jokes. We both agreed that this thing between us should stay casual, so every time we say goodnight, one of us is like, ‘I had fun tonight, but I don’t love you.’”
My sister pressed her lips together.
“Stop looking at me that way,” I said. “We just have a good time together. He makes me laugh and has a nice dick, okay? Let me just enjoy it.”
“Okay, okay.” Sighing, she unfolded her legs and stretched them out. “Will you see him tonight?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because his kids are there.” I tossed back my last swallow of whiskey. “We don’t want them to suspect anything. And I don’t think it’s a good idea to mess around with him too often, you know? If you’re going to keep something casual, it should probably be something that only happens now and then.”
“True. Especially for you.”
I’d sort of been hoping for tacit permission to at least sext him later, now that I had his number, but hearing Millie confirm what I’d said, I knew I shouldn’t.
“I should get going,” I told her. “I told the girls I’d bring them horseback riding tomorrow. Whitney is meeting us at the barn at nine.”
“That’ll be fun.” She paused. “Dex coming too?”
The question shouldn’t have felt so loaded.
“Probably.” Avoiding her eyes, I stood up, slipped my heels back on, and set my empty glass on her desk. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Anytime. Drive carefully.”
The next morning, we drove together to Cloverleigh Farms and walked over to the barn. I introduced Dex and the girls to my cousin Whitney, who’d spent years working in the stables and had always loved horses.
The girls promptly fell in love with Buttercup, a gentle, chestnut-brown Quarter Horse, and quietly listened as Whitney showed them how to feed her, brush her coat, and get her ready to ride.
It was another beautiful day, warm and sunny with just enough of a breeze to make the heat bearable. Dex and I stood off to the side near the split-rail fence as Whitney patiently let each girl have a turn in the saddle, carefully leading Buttercup around the paddock. They begged to do it again and again.
“This is so nice of you and your cousin,” Dex said. “I really appreciate it.”
“Of course. Whitney said she was thrilled to do it, and she doesn’t have to be at work until one.”
“She’s Chip’s cousin too?”
“Right. Whitney is my Aunt Sylvia’s oldest. She’s about Millie’s age—or close to it, maybe around thirty—and works for her stepdad, my Uncle Henry. He’s the winemaker here.” I gestured back toward the winery. “But Whitney manages the tasting rooms in Hadley Harbor and Traverse City, so she’s not here every day.”
Dex was quiet a minute. “Pretty soon my girls will have a stepdad.”
I looked over at him. “My mom mentioned something about Naomi being engaged. When is she getting married?”
“In October.”
I smiled at Luna, who was waving to us from Buttercup’s back. “Is he a good guy?”
Dex shrugged. “He’s okay.”
“Are you . . . upset about her remarrying?”
“Fuck no,” he scoffed, as if I’d offended him.
I glanced at him. His jaw was set hard. He wore sunglasses, so I couldn’t see his eyes, but I had a feeling they were stony. Something about the situation clearly bothered him, but I wasn’t going to force him to admit it. Wordlessly, I focused on Luna again.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” His tone was grudging but softer. “I don’t have a problem with Naomi remarrying. I just don’t like the idea of someone else thinking he can be their dad.”
Aha. “That’s understandable.”
“They’re going to live in his house, take rides on his sailboat, go on his vacations. He’s got money. He’ll be able to give them things I can’t. That—that sticks in my craw.”
“But you’re their dad—the only one they’ve got—and they love you beyond the moon. It won’t matter what he buys them, Dex. They’ll always want to be with you.”
He didn’t say anything, but his throat muscles remained taut.
“My sisters and I could have cared less about things like money or stuff,” I told him. “What we loved more than anything was the time we got with our dad. The way he made us laugh and feel safe. The way he showed us he loved us.” I put my hand on his arm. “I promise you, no one will ever replace you in their eyes. Someday when they’re older, some guy is going to come along and try, and—”
“Fuck that guy.” Dex stood taller and puffed out his chest. “I’ll kick his ass.”
I laughed, rubbing his forearm. “Easy. It’s okay. They’re only eight and five. You’ve got time before boyfriends.”
He still looked alarmed. “I’m not going to be good at that.”
“My dad wasn’t either. But we knew it was because he loved us, and he was protective.”