Page 139 of Smitten with the Single Dad

“Then run!” Griffon hollered, bouncing on his knees. “Run like the wind!”

Jake snorted. “Or drive. You know, ‘cause that’s faster.”

Wyatt darted out of the bedroom and bounded down the stairs, the boys hot on his heels. He ran next door and didn’t even bother knocking before he barged in on Justine, Bennett, and the girls sitting on the couches in the living room watching a movie.

“About fucking time,” Bennett said with an eye roll. He glanced at Justine. “What time did you have in the pool?”

She looked at her watch. “Ooh, this is my time frame.” She grinned at Wyatt. “You just earned me fifty bucks.”

“I don’t have time to berate you all for betting on my love life. Can you watch the boys?”

“Obviously,” Bennett said with a bored tone. “Keys are on the console table there.”

Wyatt grabbed Bennett’s truck keys, kissed the tops of his sons’ heads, then bolted out the door.

“Go get her, Dad!” Jake cheered as Wyatt swung behind the steering wheel.

“Don’t come back without Vica!” Griffon added. “I’m serious. I’ll live here with Uncle Bennett.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes as he backed out into the big open driveway, his sons whooping and fist pumping the air even in his rearview mirror when he reached the newly fixed security gate.

He knew the ferry schedule like the back of his hand. He had roughly twenty minutes before it started loading. If he stuck to the speed limit, he could make it to the ferry terminal in fifteen minutes.

But if he got stuck behind some mainlander, Sunday driver, he might miss his window.

Come on fate, please finally throw me a bone.

The ferry was just pulling into the terminal when he arrived. So he had time.

It still had to unload its current passengers, then start to board the ones in the line.

But the line to leave San Camanez was always really long on Sunday evenings and he was forced to park way the hell at the top of the hill.

Normally, people knew to park better so those not wishing to get on the ferry, but still get down to the terminal, could do so. But tourists were idiots with sunburns and too much money. So their consideration for others was about as existent as their philanthropy not simply for the tax break.

Growling, he made a U-turn, took the next right, and parked on the shoulder on a side street. Then he jumped out of the truck and started to run down the hill, glancing at every big, black Dodge Ram he could until he could spot Burke behind the wheel.

Why, all of a sudden, did every third person in the line have a black Dodge truck? What the fuck?

He was nearly all the way down the hill, just twenty cars from the front when he spotted Burke coming back from the little kiosk with three bottles of water in his hands. His gaze snagged Wyatt’s and he smiled.

“Who won the pool?” he asked, as Wyatt reached the truck the same time Burke did. “I had you screaming on the end of the dock as the ferry sailed off toward the mainland.”

“I love how my love life and happiness has become a moneymaking scheme for all of you,” Wyatt said, slightly out of breath.

The back passenger door opened, and Vica stepped out. “Wyatt?”

“I’m an idiot,” he said. “Jake and Griffon both said so. And they’re right.”

Her brows knitted together.

“I didn’t say it back because I was scared. Because I’m an emotionally stunted forty-year-old man whose eight-and six-year-old sons are more emotionally mature than me. But they’re right. Icanlove two people. I can love Sheila, and I can love you. Because I do. I love you, Vica.”

She pulled in a deep breath through her nose and exhaled out of her mouth.

“I came here to ask you about our divorce.”

Even Burke’s brows lifted near his hairline.

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