Page 85 of Smitten with the Single Dad

Wyatt flipped his brother the middle finger, and Dom just snickered as he carefully escorted Vica out of the door. Wyatt was too slow getting up to watch Dom’s truck pull away, but he saw the rear of it as it rumbled toward the gate, then paused as they waited for the gate to open.

He knew his brothers would take Vica’s safety seriously, but Wyatt still didn’t like the idea of her not being home with him and under his protection. Not that he could really protect her right now. But it just felt like they were playing with fire having her out in the public where someone could hurt her.

He did his best to keep himself busy, but as much as he tried, his mind and thoughts were stuck on a loop. What the hell was going on down in his kitchen? Was Vica okay? He trusted his staff—particularly Burke—implicitly, and yet, Wyatt had never been one to easily hand over the reins of control to anybody.

He kept glancing at the clock, knowing exactly what the kitchen staff would be up to at any given moment. They opened the doors at ten thirty and served a limited brunch menu until noon. After that, it was their regular menu. The lunch rush was usually in full swing by eleven fifteen and lasted until about one thirty. Then they had a lull between two and four, where the staff were able to catch up and prep for the dinner rush. He waited until one forty-five—which nearly killed him—before he hobbled his injured ass down the hill to the restaurant.

Curiosity got the best of him, and he needed to check in on his kitchen. A familiar truck sat in the parking lot. It belonged to Willy Reilly, the local crab man.

He wasn’t anticipating walking through the back door and hearing Vica cursing and yelling in Italian.

“You are taking my money on the road,” she said in English.

Her argument was with Cash Reilly, one of Willy’s young adult sons. “Huh?” Cash said, his brown eyes wide with confusion. He glanced at Wyatt. “What is she talking about?”

Vica growled. “My hands are in the air. You are pointing a gun at me on the street and demanding all my money.”

Still baffled, and now worried he was going to get arrested for possession of an invisible firearm, Cash threw his hands in the air. The kid was only in his early-twenties and working for his dad for the summer while home from college. “I am definitely not pointing a gun at you.” He glanced around. “And we are in a kitchen.”

Wyatt’s face scrunched up for a moment, then the lightbulb flicked on, and he chuckled. “I think she means this is highway robbery.”

Vica nodded. “Yes. That is what I mean. You are robbing us on the highway. The crabs should not cost that much. Burke knows it. I know it. You are pointing guns and robbing us.”

“Hey,” Cash said, finally understanding what she meant, “this is market price. Everyone is charging this for fresh Dungeness right now.”

“Cazzate!” Which was the Italian equivalent of “bullshit.”

Wyatt snorted and reached for the invoice from Vica. “Let me see.” His brows rose a little, then he tipped his gaze to Cash. “Come on, Cash, you know better than to try to fuck us over. How would your dad like it if he found out you were adding ten percent to things? Let me guess, you were going to pocket the difference? Make a little extra on the side?”

Cash’s face turned the color of a Roma tomato. But he didn’t deny it.

Vica shook her head. “This boy is not as good as bread.” She turned around and returned to the cold-side, where she was cutting up vegetables.

Wyatt exhaled and stepped closer to Cash. “What’s going on, Cash?”

He rolled his eyes. “My girlfriend has expensive taste.”

“And your dad isn’t paying you enough to accommodate such a taste?”

“Not if I want a car to get around while I’m at college. I use the company truck here on the island, but gas and insurance for my own vehicle aren’t cheap.”

“No, they’re not.”

Guilt filled his light-brown eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“How many other places have you done this with?”

“You were my first.” He hung his head, his chin to his chest.

“Be honest.”

Cash brought his gaze back to Wyatt’s. “I am. I swear.”

“You can’t be doing this, Cash. It’s dishonest. And it’s theft. From us … and from your dad.”

“Please don’t tell him. He’d fire me, and then Jasmine would definitely break up with me.”

Sakura and Willy Reilly were good, honest people. Their sons—Cash and Dash—even though they were technically adults, still had a lot of growing up to do.

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