Page 56 of Daddies' Little Troublemaker

It’s not fine, but she holds herself with more confidence as she finishes arranging her gear, walks to the pool’s edge, and dives in to start swimming laps.

After a few minutes of listening to the game and pretending not to watch Evelyn in the pool, I give up and dive into the water as well, cannonball-style, so she’s hit in the face with a massive splash when she comes up for air.

“Nice,” she says sarcastically when I come up, and she splashes me back.

We goof around, smacking water at each other. Evelyn creates a barricade from two air mattresses. She’s so busy trying to hold them together and up high that she doesn’t notice I’ve ducked beneath the surface. Underwater, it only takes a few quick, powerful strokes before I can grip her ankle. I give a quick, light tug—enough that she’ll realize she needs to take a breath—and then I pull her down to my level.

Her blond hair swirls around her head. She gives me an affronted look from what I can tell in the blurry water, then punches me. Of course, the hit carries no force down here. She flips me off and I have to hold in my laughter until we both swim up, breaking the surface.

“What the hell, old man?” she says, shoving me and laughing. “I built a freakin’ castle over here, I should be safe!”

“Your fortress is weak, because I just swam under it. Try harder next time, little girl.”

“Psh. I was going easy on you because you’re old.”

Shaking my head at her impertinence, I grab her in my arms.

She screams, a delighted giggle with no real terror behind it. “What are you doing? Unhand me, you wicked old man!”

“Sure, I’ll unhand you.” I lift her up, out of the water. “Take a breath, Trouble.”

“Lincoln? Lincoln, wait, I meant?—”

“Breathe, baby.”

As soon as she gives up and stops screeching, I throw her.

When she comes up, she somehow manages to tread water and flip me off with both hands. I splash her in response.

I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in years. “Come on, Trouble. We should get out, get in the shade for a bit.”

She gives me one last splash because she can’t seem to help pushing my buttons, but I allow it. I get out first and get her towel for her. A breeze has picked up, raising goosebumps over her skin, so I wrap her towel around her shoulders and tug it tight.

Offering me her crooked smile, she says, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, more gruffly than I intended.

It’s not just lust I’m feeling for my stepbrother’s daughter. I actually care about her.

And that’s more terrifying than anything else.

* * *

Evelyn

Lincoln’s deep laughter is still echoing in my ears when we finally go inside the house to dry off and change. I put away my snack supplies and tidy up the mess I made in the kitchen, first. As I’m putting my unopened hard lemonades into the fridge, my phone buzzes on the counter.

It’s a message from Chloe.

My heart rate instantly kicks up a notch, and I haven’t even read the text yet. I was having such a nice day, too—of course my sister has to come along and stress me out.

Steeling myself, I finally read the words.

I’m sending Troy over. He can help you get your things and move them back home.

She’s sending…what? Assuming I even wanted to move back to Mom and Harold’s house, why the fuck does she think I’d want stupid Troy to come over and help me? Is this some kind of weird power play, a “look, I can get your ex to do whatever I want” sort of thing?

I type out a response so fast, I have to fix several autocorrect errors before it says, Do not send Troy here.

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