“Guess what?” I smiled at them. “My dad was a single dad too, and he also used to swear a lot.”
“Was he a SEAL?” Luna asked.
“No, but he was a Marine,” I said. “And he always told us that once you’re a Marine, you’re always a Marine, so we had to put up with his cursing.”
“Did it make your mom mad?” Hallie wondered. “Our mom gets really mad about it.”
“I don’t think she knew,” I said carefully, “but I had sisters too, and you know what we did?”
“What?” they asked.
“We had a swear jar, and every time he said a bad word, he had to put money in the jar.”
“How much money?” Hallie asked, her dark eyes wide.
I shrugged. “Depends on the swear. Most words were fifty cents.”
“Our dad says the F-word a lot,” whispered Luna, glancing at the cat like she was afraid Piglet’s ears might be offended.
“The F-word was a whole dollar,” I told them.
The sisters exchanged a delighted look.
“And then every month, my sisters and I would take turns choosing where to donate the money. When it was my turn, I always chose an animal charity.”
“Our dad says there’s a pool here,” Hallie said excitedly, off to a new subject with the speed of an eight-year-old. “Do you know where it is?”
“Yes.”
“Can you show us?”
I paused. “Yes, but I think we should wait to ask your dad for permission.”
A vigorous rapping on the aluminum frame of my screen door made us all jump and sent Piglet scurrying back into the pantry.
“I bet that’s Daddy,” Hallie said. “We didn’t tell him we were coming here. He might be mad.”
Flustered, I hurried from the kitchen toward the door, where I could see the imposing masculine silhouette of him through the screen—wide shoulders, thick arms, trim torso. Pushing open the door, I could see he was just as handsome as I’d thought.
And clearly upset.
His dark eyes were clouded with worry, his brow was furrowed, and his jaw was clenched. “Sorry to bother you, but have you seen—”
“Daddy!” Luna came running up the hall with Hallie close behind.
At the sight of his girls, the guy relaxed his shoulders and expression somewhat. “You guys cannot just run off like that. I didn’t know where you were.”
“Sorry,” Luna said contritely. “I needed a new Band-Aid.”
“And we didn’t want to ask you because you were already being a grouch about the couch,” Hallie added.
“Hey, that rhymes. Grouch and couch.” Luna smiled up at her big sister with admiration. “Daddy was a grouch about the couch.”
I smiled, but judging by his expression, their father was not amused.
“Please come in,” I said, stepping back to give him space. I held out my hand. “I’m Winnie.”
“Just like the Pooh!” Luna said.
Although I was used to the joke, I felt my cheeks grow warm.
“I’m Dex.” He didn’t exactly smile, but at least he unclenched his jaw and gave me a nod. He appeared a bit older than I’d originally guessed—he had some gray at his temples, and a few faint lines on his forehead. But when he wasn’t frowning, his dark scruff framed a beautiful mouth, with a slightly fuller lower lip.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, my pulse quickening as he shook my hand.
He gestured to the girls. “These two strays are my daughters, Hallie and Luna.”
“She knows us already, Dad,” said Hallie impatiently.
“She gave me the Band-Aid.” Luna showed off her knee. “It’s much better than yours.”
Dex rolled his eyes and looked at me again. “Sorry for the intrusion.”
“Not at all. I’m sorry about the couch, and I hope the rest of the move goes well. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thanks.” He looked at his kids. “Let’s go, girls.”
“Can we go swimming now, Daddy?” Hallie asked, tugging on his shirt.
“No. There’s too much to do. You can unpack while I put your beds together.” He pushed the screen door open.
“What about a ride in the truck?” Luna asked, taking his hand. “You promised.”
“We’ll see,” Dex answered, shepherding them off the porch. He glanced back at me without smiling. “Thanks again.”
“Anytime.” I shut the front door, leaned back against it, and squeezed my eyes shut.
Damn, he was handsome. My heart was still fluttering.
“It’s fine,” I told myself. “It’s fine that my new next door neighbor is a hot firefighter and single dad with muscles for days and dark, broody eyes. It’s fine, because I am the boss of my feelings.”
Slowly, I started walking up the stairs, skimming my palm along the banister and wondering if his abs were as hard and sculpted as his jaw. Then I snatched my fingers off the wood as if it was hot.
“I am also the boss of my hands.” I started up the steps again, imagining what it would be like to feel his scruff against my cheek, maybe bite his lower lip.
“And my teeth,” I said defiantly. “I’m definitely the boss of my teeth. I will not bite my nice new neighbor.”
But I paused when I reached the top. “Unless he asks me to.”
Four
Dex
“You two cannot just wander off that way,” I scolded as we walked back to our place. I’d only been gone for twenty minutes, tops—after parking the truck out of the way, I’d run out to the hardware store to get a metal bracket for the broken couch leg. When I got back, the girls were nowhere to be found. “You know you have to ask permission to leave the house.”
“We couldn’t find you,” Hallie said defensively as we crossed our driveway. “And Uncle Justin said it was okay to go outside as long as we didn’t go in the parking lot, which we didn’t.”
“Where’s Aunt Bree?”
“She had to take the boys home for a nap.”
“You were supposed to go with her.”
“We didn’t want to.”
“Next time, wait for me.” I opened the front door for them, and they slipped into the house. “Got it?”
“Yes, Daddy,” they said together, but I could have sworn I saw Hallie roll her eyes. For good measure, I gave one of her pigtails a tug. “You know these are crooked, right?”
“Hey! You did them!” Giggling, she scooted away from me and darted up the steps.
“I like ’em that way,” I teased, following her and tugging the second one. “Makes it easy to recognize you from behind.”
Up in the girls’ room, Justin and I put together the girls’ twin beds while they put their clothes in the dresser.
“Dad, do we have a jar?” Hallie asked, carrying her clothes in neat piles over to the drawers she’d designated as hers.
“A jar?” I tightened a bolt holding the headboard to the frame on Luna’s bed. “What for?”