Page 64 of Summer with the Single Dad

Justine sighed. “Okay. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

Aya bounced on her toes. “Yay. Okay. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

Then the little girl skipped toward the stairs. The bathroom door in the hallway was closed, and it sounded like someone was in the shower. Probably Bennett.

An image of him naked, wet, and soapy, flitted into her mind and her belly grew warm—along with other places too.

Hiding a smile behind her hand, she closed the bedroom door, flung the towel off her body and went searching through her drawers for something to wear. It was going to be a rainy day. So she decided on jeans that rolled at the ankle, a loose, black tank top and a gray jersey cardigan.

She hated having wet hair, so she quickly dried her straight strands with her travel blow dryer, dabbed a bit of lip gloss on her lips. Just as she was closing her bedroom door, her phone vibrated in her back pocket.

She sighed when she saw that it was another text message from her dad, and a pang of guilt made her buoyant heart deflate a little. She hated avoiding her parents—particularly her father. But she just wasn’t ready to face them or tell them the truth about what happened in the OR or between her and Tad. Plastering on another smile, and determined to keep her good mood from this morning going no matter what, she made her way to the kitchen where arguing little girl voices had her smiling.

“I can do it myself,” Aya said with frustration in her squeaky voice. “Let me do it myself, Emerson.” She growled out her sister’s full name and tried to jerk the gallon-jug of milk out of her sister’s hand. The jug was full, they’d probably just opened it, and of course, Aya was just an itty-bitty little thing with twigs for arms and the force of her yank, combined with her sister’s resistance, was an obvious recipe for disaster.

The jug fell to the floor and milk began to glug, glug out immediately.

“Ugh!” Emme said with exasperation. “I told you it was too heavy for you.”

“No, it’s not!” Aya shouted back. “You just wouldn’t let go.”

“Dad!”

“Dad!”

Neither child had bothered to actually pick up the jug and stop it from dumping anymore, so Justine swooped in and did it. “All right. Let’s get this cleaned up, hmm? The worst thing in the world is the smell of sour milk. So we need to make sure it doesn’t seep under any appliances.”

That seemed to snap the girls out of their rage fugue and Emme was quick to grab a tea towel from the oven handle and drop to her knees to help.

“Do you have a washcloth too?” Justine asked.

Emme leaped back to her feet and grabbed one that’d been draped over the faucet.

“If you’d just let me do it myself,” Aya said, standing over them with her hands on her boney little hips.

Justine glanced up at Aya. “It was a very full jug, sweetheart.”

“I’m strong. See?” She brought her arms up like a bodybuilder but didn’t actually know how to flex her muscles. And even if she was flexing, nothing popped out.

“I’m sure you are, but you’re also not at a great height for the counter. Your sister was just trying to help.”

“To stop a mess like this from happening,” Emme grumbled under her breath before standing up to rinse the washcloth. She returned a moment later to mop up more. They also required a couple more tea towels since the milk made a terrible mess.

Aya stuck out her tongue at her sister.

“What’s going on here?” Unnerved by the way Bennett’s smooth voice echoed inside her, Justine jumped. Her gaze popped up to his and that sexy smirk on his talented lips.

“Aya snatched the milk jug from—”

“No, I didn’t!” Aya stomped her foot and growled, sneering at her sister. “Emerson wouldn’t let me do it myself. And I can, Daddy. I’ve done it before.” She looked on the verge of tears now. The anger was getting the better of her, and her little body couldn’t cope. Justine knew all too well what that was like.

Bennett crouched down to her level and pulled her onto his knee. “I know you have, Little Bug. But last time, the milk jug wasn’t brand new and full. Remember?”

She sniffled.

“You’re a big kid now, for sure, but the counter height is awkward for such a big jug of milk. Emme was just trying to help.”

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