Page 121 of Challenged by the Single Dad

Silas grumbled. “I hate this time of year. What’s the temperature. And the windchill? What direction is the wind coming from? And how strong will the gusts be?”

With amusement pulling the corners of his lips up, Dom scrolled for more information. “A high of forty-five, a low of forty, but feels like thirty-five with the windchill. Gusts up to forty miles an hour coming from the south.”

Still shaking his head, Silas pulled out a pair of camo-patterned fleece pants and a black long-sleeve T-shirt with a Spiderman graphic on the front. “Will this work?”

“It should. Yup.”

With a face that rivaled the internet sensation Grumpy Cat, Silas wrestled himself into his clothes, then opened up the top drawer for socks. “I’m going to double-up on my socks, and pack my rain pants, and my heavy, waterproof winter coat, and gloves. I think an umbrella would be dumb with those heavy gusts though.”

“Do what you gotta do, bud.” Dom turned to head downstairs when his phone vibrated in his palm. “I’ll meet you downstairs,” he said, bringing up the message from Bennett as he entered the hallway and took the stairs.

Island Elders asked if we are prepared to do our in-person proposal today. Apparently, a few of them are caravanning down to the Baja next week to ride out the winter and want to get this off their plates.

What the fuck? Today? Were they ready?

Dom was the wrong person to ask that question. Because to him, they’d never be ready. But Bennett and Jagger wrote their scripts and sent them to Wyatt, Clint, and Dom for approval. As per their earlier discussion, Dom was not going to do a speech, but simply answer questions directed at him. He hated public speaking and knew he’d fuck it all up if he had to speak more than was absolutely necessary.

Wyatt responded first.

(Wyatt)Fucking hell. It’s like they think we ALL have nothing going on. None of us applying for this land are retired. We all run businesses and have young families. Not to mention the fucking storm!!!

(Bennett)We’re ready. We can do this.

(Clint)Any idea if others have gone before us or if we’re first?

(Jagger)I’m sure ol’ Raina the Rancidwould be gloating if they already went. So I think we’re probably first.

Oh, Jagger. What exactly was your beef with Raina? It had to stem beyond him thinking she was somehow cheating and befriending the Island Elders to swing their vote in favor of Westhaven Winery.

After Dom put on the coffee, he texted his reply.What time?

They’ve asked to have it at 5pm.Replied Bennett.

Why so fucking late? Whatever. Once they got the in-person proposal done, that would be one less thing looming over their heads as they headed into the Christmas season. The party that Wyatt proposed they throw and invite islanders to, along with Santa Claus, was consuming nearly all of their free time and brain power since it was next weekend. Already a few of the food orders he’d put in had been canceled or delayed due to weather. Who knew what this new storm was going to delay?

All Dom did was send a thumbs-up reply, which prompted the rest of the brothers to do the same. They’d figure out the logistics of who was driving and watching the children later.

Silas joined him in the kitchen, the top of his head brushed, but the back was still a colossal rat’s nest like usual. Sleep crusties hung tightly to the corners of his eyes and his movements were bogged down with fatigue. It wasn’t just Chloe who was feeling the onset of exhaustion. They were all tired. Tired of the shorter days, the crappy weather, and the chilly temperature.

Spring could not come soon enough.

Without saying anything, they got to work making the pancakes. Dom brought out his electric griddle, and Silas measured out the chocolate chips.

They were just finishing up their stacks when Chloe came downstairs, all bundled up in a pair of Dom’s gray sweatpants and one of his San Camanez Brewery hoodies that hung down to her knees. She’d twisted her red hair into a topknot and put on big, fuzzy socks. Yet, he could already tell that she’d puked before coming down, and was cold.

Springing up from his seat, he went to the kettle—which was still piping hot—and poured her a mug of peppermint tea. She wouldn’t want to eat breakfast, but her tender stomach needed something in it.

“What time are you working at the hostel today?” he asked, setting her mug in front of her as she took a seat at the kitchen table.

She glanced at the clock on the oven. “Ten.”

“Bennett just texted and we’ve all got to go and give our in-person proposal for Bonn Remmen’s land tonight at five o’clock at the community center.”

Cradling her mug in both hands but not lifting it or taking a sip, she wrinkled her nose. “Why so late?”

“I was wondering the same freaking thing.” He shook his head and took his seat again, lifting his coffee to his mouth. Silas had his “coffee” too and took a sip, mimicking Dom’s movements. “I think Brooke and Vica will be home and able to watch the kids. Justine’s working. Otherwise, I guess we can always bring them with us and just give them all tablets to watch in the lobby for like an hour.”

Her gaze, although still tired, turned empathetic. “You’ll all do great. Your case is rock-solid. So is your presentation.” Once Bennett and Jagger finished the final drafts, they sent them out to everyone, and Dom let Chloe read it. She’d been thoroughly impressed.

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