Page 19 of Wanting a Family Man

“Did you seriously race him up the hill?” Emma asked her.

“I gave her a head start,” Biyen said. “Where’s Storm?”

“Hi, Auntie Em,” Sophie said in the correcting tone of a harried mother. “I notice you have a guest. Will you please introduce me?”

“Oh. Hi.” He grinned at Cloe, showing a mix of grown-up teeth at the front, smaller baby teeth at the back. “I’m Biyen.” He thrust out his hand like a gentleman.

“I’m Cloe, Storm’s aunt.” She shook his sweaty palm.

“Storm has anaunt?” He whipped his head around to look at Sophie. “How am I just learning this now?”

“Buddy,” Sophie said with exaggerated patience. “I just told you at home that Tiffany had a sister named Cloe and that she was here to see Storm. What do you think an aunt is?”

“Bugs at a picnic,” he told her with a goggle-eyed stare. “Where’s Logan?”

“He went in through the basement. Reid and Trystan are in the crawl space. Logan got jealous that his brothers are looking at old Christmas lights without him.”

“Can I go see them?”

“The Christmas lights? I’m joking. It was actually something about tea.” Sophie frowned her confusion to Emma.

“Mom.” Biyen looked as though his patience was being tested. “I mean can I go see theguys?”

“Oh. Sure—”

There was a squawk on the baby monitor.

Sophie lifted her brows and pointed. “Or?”

“Do you want to get her up with me?” Emma asked in an indulgent tone.

“Yas queen.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that one,” Sophie said with a wince, but Biyen was already trying to shove past her.

“Shoes!” Sophie cried.

“Ugh.” He toed off his shoes and left them on the deck, then shouldered past her.

“We’ll be right back.” Emma took the monitor and hurried after him.

“Dear God, I need one of those.” Sophie pointed at Cloe’s glass on the table. “Logan fed him ice cream. He’s bouncing off the walls. Do you need a top-up?” Her voice faded as she moved to the fridge.

“No, thanks.” Cloe left her glass outside and came into the kitchen, closing the screen behind her. She was operating on three hours of sleep and no lunch. If she didn’t nurse her drink, she’d be hammered.

“I finally put together that this”—Sophie rolled her wrist to indicate the house—“was why you were asking about work and a place to stay when I saw you at the pub this morning.” Sophie used her hip to close the fridge, unstopping the bottle as she went searching for a glass.

“I didn’t know you were so closely connected to the family,” Cloe tried to explain. “I asked the server if she knew of a place, and she called you over.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s par for the course that we ask around for stuff. Who needs the internet when you can just yell at whoever is walking by? And look, working at the pub is fine. I’ve done it myself in the past, but—I’m going to sound like a complete bitch here, like I have a grudge against Quinley. I don’t. I swear. We have history, but our kids are friends, and we make it work. Still, you should know that when she says there’s an opening at the pub, what she really means is, she would like to take a week off and visit her sister in Winnipeg.”

“That sounds like a week of work for me, though,” Cloe said with a lilt of hope.

“It is. And if you’re okay with that, great. You’d probably keep picking up shifts through September, but they’d be the shitty ones where you’ll make two-dollar tips. Then you’ll be laid off when they scale back to winter hours. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Can I ask what you do?” When she’d seen Sophie walking by the pub this morning, she’d been in coveralls.

“Marine mechanic. I’m the manager at the marina.”

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