Page 33 of Summer with the Single Dad

Bennett glowered at his brother, who was leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest. “Shouldn’t you be going to wait for Cam?”

Clint smirked. “Yeah, I guess I should.” Then he left, which allowed for Bennett’s shoulders to drop away from his ears.

“Yes, it is more of a study, as my brother pointed out. It’s downstairs and there is a two-piece bathroom downstairs. The shower upstairs would be shared with the—”

She cocked her head to the side when he paused.

“You know what? What the hell am I thinking? You can have my room. It has its own bathroom with a huge soaker tub and a walk-in shower. I can stay in the study downstairs and share a bathroom with the girls. It’s only for four days. It’s not a big deal.”

Justine’s bottom lip tried to plummet to the floor. “You’re offering me your room?”

Now he felt like an idiot.

“I … we’re all about customer service here. I don’t want your vacation ruined.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This was so awkward.

He’d gone and made it awkward.

So. Fucking. Awkward.

“I’m fine with the study. It has a bed at least, right?”

“It has a futon, which is surprisingly comfortable. But I’ll stay on it. Please, let me at least offer you a room with its own bathroom. The girls are … their bathroom is a general disaster. I can’t put you through that.”

Her smile bolstered him a little.

He smiled back. Encouragingly. With hope in every cell of his body.

“O-okay,” she finally said. “Can you help me load my stuff into my car?”

Dear god, she probably thought he was a psychopath given how big his smile grew. He nodded vigorously and pried his feet from the floor, picking up the closest tote. “Absolutely. Of course.” He headed out to her SUV which was open, and loaded the tote just as a big white pickup truck backed up, blocking him in. Out hopped Cam Arendelle of Hardwood Distillery, and Clint from the passenger side.

“Heard you had a flood,” Cam said with a big toothy smile, offering Bennett his hand.

Cam was a tall man with floppy brown hair, amber eyes, and an easy smile. His eight-year-old daughter Cleo was in the same class as Emme, and Clint’s daughter, Talia.

“It never ends,” Bennett said with a sigh. “Thanks so much for coming on such short notice, man. You’ve saved our bacon with those de-hums.”

“Hey, I’ll pretty much do anything for free beer.”

Clint snorted. “You make your own booze. It’s also free.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I just want to crack open an ice-cold lager and chill on the porch. I don’t always want a spirit. So, if I can broker a deal where you borrow my de-hums and I get some of Clint’s Fuzzy Peach Sour, then hey, let’s do business together.”

“Oh, you’re a fuzzy peach man. Huh?” Clint asked. “Nice. I’ll go put together a few cases.” He wandered back toward the brewery while Bennett helped Cameron unload the big industrial dehumidifiers from the back of his pickup.

“Why do you still have these? If you’re not in construction anymore.”

“I held onto a lot of my stuff when I moved over here and closed my restoration business,” Cam replied. “Scaffolding, ladders, de-hums and other big industrial restoration and construction equipment. We built our own warehouse here, which I needed the equipment for. Since then, I make decent scratch on the side by renting it out to contractors who come to the island but don’t want to haul all their equipment on the ferry. Scaffolding and ladders are rented out right now, as Dr. Malone is getting a new roof and siding put on his house. But since it’s summer, the de-hums aren’t really needed right now. If you’d had a flood in November, during storm season, I might have had to ask for more than just beer.”

Bennett snorted. “Silver lining, I suppose.”

Cameron rolled two de-hums to the cabin. Bennett followed with the other two.

“They’re loud as fuck, so hopefully you have somewhere else to stay,” Cameron said, lugging the first dehumidifier into place in the kitchen. He found an outlet, plugged it in, but didn’t turn it on yet.

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