Page 23 of Wanting a Family Man

“Spoilsport.” She was grinning, though.

“What’s that about?” Trystan asked, sensing she was winding Logan up. He was more than happy to hear more.

She pursed her lips. “Private joke, but you’ll like this one. Hey, Reid?”

“Yeah,” Reid said curtly.

“I know for a fact that the boxes are above the walk-in closet. You and Em were in Victoria getting married when these two finished your bedroom. I came to help with the painting and Logan asked me if I thought they should take Tiffany’s things to the thrift store in Bella Bella. I said Em wanted to keep it in case Tiffany’s sister showed up. Trys was too lazy to carry it all the way down here.” She sent him a pithy look. “Logan said that was okay because there was room in the attic.”

Reid released a hacked-off sigh. “I texted both of you before I came in here.”

“That wasn’t a text. It was a riddle,” Trystan argued.

“And don’t pretend you weren’t looking for an excuse to crawl under this house and pound wood,” Logan added.

“I love that Biyenjustcalled you guys grown-ups,” Sophie said.

“You corrected him?” Trystan asked.

“So fast. But for real. Do you guys need help?”

“Nah, we’re almost done. We’ll be up in a few.”

“I’ll let Em know.”

Chapter Seven

Cloe came outsideas Trystan was setting the steaks on the hot grill, releasing loud hisses and the aroma of roasting garlic and burnt molasses.

“Sophie said you might want this.” She tentatively offered a can of beer and saw him stiffen slightly. “Sorry. Did I startle you?” Her cheeks heated.

“Just thinking about something,” he muttered. “Thanks.” He accepted the beer and popped it.

“I think this was mine,” she murmured, using the excuse of reaching for her warm wine on the patio table to step away from him. She glanced inside the house to be sure that Emma was holding her own glass.

“Can you cook?” Trystan asked abruptly.

“Pardon?” She glanced at the grill. “Oh. You mean—? Sure. I can watch the steaks.”

“No, I mean in general. The basics. Nothing fancy.”

“I can fry eggs and make a decent chicken noodle soup from scratch, but I couldn’t work at a café or anything like that.” She skimmed her glance to the pub.

“But you could throw together something for a dozen people? Do you get seasick?”

“I’ve been on boats and always felt fine.” Ivan’s friends had taken them out sometimes. “Why? Are you looking for a first mate?” she joked.

“A steward. The first mate needs a license to skip if something happens to the captain. The steward is basically a housekeeper. You would cook and clean up after the guests, chat and play card games if the weather turns sour. It’s not sexy.”

“Are you being serious?” She quit trying to fish the gnat out of her glass.

“Yes.” He sounded serious as a heart attack. Borderline grim. “Do you have any first aid?”

“Only basic. CPR with some bandage training for bleeding, burns, and fractures.”

“Good enough. It’s only for backup. I have EMT and so does Johnny. You’d be on the water five days out of seven,” he warned. “You’d be here, but nothere.” He pointed at the deck under their feet.

“But I could see Storm on my days off? Even for an hour or two? Would you pay me?” she asked hesitantly, sensing charity.

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