Page 38 of Stick Move

“Ms. Brighton, I love it,” Camryn squeals. She cuts into it quickly, pulling it apart. A frown tugs her lips down, until she finds a lump.

She takes a big bite and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, my heart jumps into my throat because I have the sneaking suspicion that the mother she just wished for was…me.

11

NOAH

After pancakes, Brighton had errands to run, so Camryn and I explored the resort and spent some time in the ocean. When we arrived back at our house, a young high school kid hired by the resort—well, now me—was getting ready to mow our lawn.

We chatted for a minute and he was so nervous to meet me and I still can’t wrap my head around that. I’m just Noah Jones, as plain as my last name, but I do realize I’m a superstar to some and I respect that. After a few selfies, I told him to take the afternoon off with pay. I wanted to mow my own lawn. It’s a great time to just relax and think. Plus, I think it’s good for Camryn, who played with her dolls as she watched me, to see her father doing normal everyday things.

By the time I finished up mowing, a few clouds had moved in, so I took Camryn out to her favorite café for lunch, and then we made a trip to the grocery store, where I loaded up on flour and whipped cream. I also bought a few steaks to barbecue, and I’m hoping the rain holds off. My folks will be here soon, and I want to put up a nice meal for them. I invited Brighton, and it’s crazy how anxious I am to see her.

At first, she wasn’t going to come. Until I assured her she wasn’t intruding on the first dinner with my folks in our new place. I also assured her they’d want to meet Camryn’s new nanny. What I didn’t tell her of was that I really wanted her there. Yeah, yeah, I know. This is a sex only relationship, and a secret one at that, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend time with her, or tie her to my bed.

Whoa, where the hell did that thought come from?

“Daddy, when will Grandma and Grandpa be here?” Camryn asks from the kitchen table, bored with her electronic device. Maybe she needs a few goats. I grin at that thought, and once again wonder what’s going on with all the strange thoughts. Let’s face it. I never thought about goats or tying women to my bed before.

I glance at the clock as I put salt and pepper onto the steaks. “In about thirty minutes.”

She huffs out a breath. “That’s too long.”

I grin, because she clearly has no idea just how long or short thirty minutes really is. “Why don’t you do some coloring for them? I bet they’d love a new picture.”

“Okay.” She runs from the kitchen, and a minute later, a knock comes at the door. My heart thumps. Jesus, when did I start acting like a hormonal teen again? I wipe my hands and hurry to the door, swinging it open to find a smiling Brighton in a pretty blue sundress, holding a huge pan of dessert in her hand.

“Wow, what’s this?”

She holds the pan out to me. “Strawberry cheesecake.”

I take it from her and breathe in the delicious scents. “You didn’t have to go through the trouble.” I grin. “I’m kind of glad you did. This beats bowls of vanilla ice cream.”

“Didn’t have to. Wanted to. What would your parents think of me if I showed up empty-handed?”

Is she worried what my parents might think? Does she think I told them about our younger years? “They’re going to love you, Brighton.” Without thinking, I lean and press my lips to hers. Her body stiffens, and I jerk back. “Sorry.”

Her eyes soften. “Don’t be. You just took me by surprise. I’m not used to out-of-the-blue kisses like that.”

“Didn’t your ex…” I let my words fall off. I don’t want to know what she did with her ex. “New rule.”

“Oh.”

“Unexpected kisses all the time.” Catching me off guard, she leans in and kisses me. Her smile is wide when she inches back. “I take that as a yes.”

She nods. “These rules, we’re just going to make them up as we go?”

“Ms. Brighton,” Camryn screeches at the top of her lungs as she comes rushing to the door. She throws her arms around Brighton’s waist. “Do you want to color with me?”

“Jellybean, I would love to color with you.”

She takes Brighton’s hand, and leads her to the living room, where she’s laid out all her coloring books and crayons.

“Grandma and Grandpa put my colorings on their fridge. Do you want one for your fridge too?”

“Of course, I do.”

My heart lodges somewhere in the vicinity of my throat as I watch the two kneel on the floor together. Everything in the way my daughter looks at her nanny warm my soul, and makes me think about prolonging this arrangement past the NHL season. But I can’t do that. It’s selfish. Brighton has a life to live, one that involves putting her education to better use. I am positive after this break, she’ll want to step into the role of manager at this resort, and I have full confidence that she can run my investment successfully.

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