Page 19 of Smitten with the Single Dad

“Yes, buddy. All the ocean waves are here.”

Griffon grinned, then switched gears completely. “How long are you staying here?” he asked her. “How long is my dad going to sleep on my floor?”

Vica’s eyes went wide and she pivoted her focus to Wyatt. “You slept on his floor?”

“On an air mattress. It’s fine.”

She shook her head. “No. No. I can’t have you do that again.”

“Vica,” he leveled her with a reassuring gaze, “It’s okay. What matters is you feeling safe. There are five houses here and an RV. We have lots of space, and beds, and mattresses. I will be fine. Iamfine.”

She didn’t seem convinced, but he gave her a look that said she also couldn’t convince him to take back his bedroom either.

Silence fell around their table for a moment as everyone ate their breakfast.

Even with her bruised and battered face, Vica Vitale was strikingly beautiful. With soft-brown eyes, light-brown hair with natural blonde and caramel streaks, a narrow, sweet face, and high cheekbones. Olive-colored skin and full lips. He recognized the clothes she wore as some of Justine’s clothes. Particularly the navy Stanford Medicine hoodie.

The boys—after nearly eating their own body weights in food—brought their dishes to the dishwasher then headed upstairs to get dressed, leaving Vica and Wyatt alone in the kitchen.

“Thank you,” she whispered, joining him in the kitchen as he filled up the sink with hot, soapy water. “For … everything.”

He was about to open his mouth—though he wasn’t sure what to say—when there was a knock at the front door.

It couldn’t be the cops, since there was no alert on his phone to let anybody through the gate. It had to be someone from the family.

Drying his hands on a dish towel, he smiled at Vica before leaving her in the kitchen and heading to the door. The two feminine silhouettes behind the glass were easily recognizable.

He swung open the door.

“How is she?” Justine asked, not waiting to be invited inside, but simply stepping over the threshold. Brooke followed her, bringing her floral and fruity scent with her.

“Awake and enjoying an iced coffee,” he said, following the women as they made their way through his home to the kitchen. Every house had the same layout, so it wasn’t like they needed a map to find the kitchen.

“Hi,” Justine said softly, her smile grim. “How’d you sleep?”

“I slept,” Vica said. “Thanks to the pills you gave me.”

Justine nodded. “It was just melatonin, but it helps.”

“I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“I’m Brooke,” Brooke said, extending her hand. “And I’m here for anything you might need. We both are.” She glanced behind her at Wyatt and her greeneyes lit up. “We all are.”

“I … I appreciate that,” Vica said. “Um … do we know, well … anything about what happened? The police … the news?”

“We all checked our news feeds this morning and so far, nothing has popped up,” Brooke said. “But we’re keeping an eye on things.”

“I appreciate it,” Vica said. “I hope the two police officers, the older ones, do not come back. I didn’t like them. They were rude and very …” she glanced at all of us, “What is the word for hating women?”

Justine and Brooke both snorted.

“Misogynistic,” Justine said. “And yeah, they are.”

Wyatt cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, there are only four cops on the island, and they are two of them. But Myla, who you also met last night, is great. And I’m hoping she pushes to take over the case.”

The women nodded.

“We’d like to help however we can,” Brooke added. “So please make a list …,” she grabbed the pad of paper that was magnetically stuck to the fridge, along with a pen, and handed it to Vica, “of things we can pick up for you at the store. Deodorant, underwear, bras, face wash, toothbrush; whatever you need. We’re here for you.” She made a face. “I was in a somewhat similar situation not too long ago and this place was a safe haven. My refuge from the cold, cruel world beyond the gate.” Her smile turned softer. “Clint … the McEvoy family, they saved me.”

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