Page 22 of Summer with the Single Dad

He didn’t .

His kids didn’t need that.

Maybe it was a sign that she couldn’t have children. She wasn’t meant to have children because she didn’t have the emotions inside her to be a good parent.

Before she could stop them, the tears began to fall, mixing with the warm water from the shower and circling the drain.

She wanted that life though.

A family. Children.

Even if the universe didn’t think she should be a mother, her heart told her otherwise.

Her well of tears ran dry and the water from the shower turned cold by the time she turned off the water and wrapped a towel around her.

She felt better having that cry.

Her head was clearer, although she still had no idea what she was going to do with her life now that she was no longer a surgeon. She did know, however, that she would figure it out on the island. By the end of the summer, she would have a concrete plan for her future.

She just needed to stay away from the sexy single dad up the hill, because if her heart had its way, she’d stay here with Bennett baking cakes forever.

CHAPTER FIVE

The kids were still asleep, as was Jagger on the couch, when Bennett arrived back at the house.

Emme’s alarm would go off in fifteen minutes, then she’d wake up Aya, which would wake up Jagger, and the morning hustle and bustle to get dressed, fed, and out the door would begin.

But he still had fifteen minutes of peace.

Of quiet and darkness.

It was a weird quirk, but he’d had it since he was a kid and the power went out for three days straight because of a fallen tree across a major power line; Bennett loved to shower in the dark.

Not the pitch black, of course. He still needed to see what he was doing. He needed to make sure he washed his hair with dandruff shampoo and not body wash, which was why he had a big window in the bathroom to allow natural light to filter in.

But without the harsh glare of an overhead light, his showers were much more peaceful. The worries that plagued him every hour of every day didn’t penetrate his light-free shower. It was ten minutes of solace, of guilt-free, stress-free him-time. And for some reason, that level of peace didn’t translate when the light was on.

He stripped out of his sweaty running clothes, leaving them in a pile on the bathroom tile. They were all military boys—besides Jagger—so everything in all of their houses was neat and tidy. The beds were made with military corners and there was no clutter—besides the kids’ rooms, of course. Clutter and knick-knacks made for a messy mind, and there was no need for superfluous anything. He didn’t have more towels than he needed, or more pants or shorts than was acceptable. Everything in his house had a place and a purpose, and if it didn’t, then it didn’t stay.

Like the cabins, they needed to let the shower run for a few minutes before the hot water kicked in. So he placed his hands on the bathroom vanity and leaned forward, studying his scruffy, weathered old-man face in the mirror.

Was he a grump?

No, but he sure as hell had the frown lines that would make people think he was. Deep crevices between his brows and around his mouth told the world that he scowled a lot. Maybe he did. Maybe he had resting man-bitch face, and he didn’t even know it. Resting mitch face? Was that a thing?

Misogynists were always telling women to smile more, but maybe he needed to make a conscious effort to smile more. He already knew that his kids thought he was a grump. And he was actively trying to change that.

The water temperature was acceptable, so he stepped under the spray, letting it wash over his achy muscles and banish the chill that seeped into his bones as he stood naked in front of the mirror. Much like Clint, Wyatt, and Dom, he still wore his dog tags around his neck. They were a part of him just as much as his legs, nose, or cock. The girls liked playing with them when they sat on his lap, but he usually made a point of tucking them under his shirt. They just prompted questions from people he’d rather not tell his life’s story to.

His mind drifted back to Justine. She was someone to share his life’s story with.

She was an impressive runner. She kept pace with him no problem, and barely seemed winded. He was extremely curious about what kind of music she listened to while running, but he forgot to ask. Their interactions at first seemed forced by him, but once they got on the topic of cake, it all changed.

Then she went so far as to offer to help him and contribute to his donations.

Before he knew it, thoughts of Justine had his cock standing straight up.

Taking himself in his palm and with thoughts of Justine’s tight, perky ass in those fitness pants running through his brain, he stroked himself root to tip.

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