Page 53 of One Bride for Three Single Dads

“Oh my God,” I blurt out, surprised.

“Yeah… It’s a stunner,” she agrees.

I’ve never seen the ocean unless you count that velvety blur below the windows that I saw from the jet a few hours ago. And there it is. The ocean.

I mean, it’s still pretty far away. The cliffs are really high. We are actually coming up underneath them from the valley, and I can make out a couple of flat spots. Two flat spots have houses built into the face.

“Is that the ocean?” Alexis asks. “Seriously?”

“That it is, love! You’ve never been to the sea?”

“Well, she’s only seven,” Harrison replies testily.

“You’ll have time to take a closer look!” the driver replies encouragingly. “Just remember it’s cold. There are rocks. But beautiful!”

Alexis glances at me, as if to make sure that I intend on taking her to the beach. Of course I do.

As we approach the cliffside, I realize it’s not quite as sheer and drastic as I thought. It’s actually a bunch of outcroppings sort of nestled into each other. There is a very large house… or the start of the house. A frame and some windows. Looks abandoned.

Next to that, how far away I can’t tell at this distance, is a smaller place. A squat, hunched-looking domicile with a thatched roof and narrow windows.

Eventually this is the building the driver delivers us to. She cuts the engine and whistles a cheerful tune as she gets out and begins to open the doors for us.

“We’re here?” I ask, barely believing it.

“This is the caretaker’s cottage, love,” she answers, beaming. “It’s all yours! I think you’ll find it suitable.”

It seems suitable. I mean, it definitely seems like a house by the look of the front garden with its trailing vines and rambling rose bushes over the short, split-rail fence.

It also seems quite… how shall I put it?

Tiny?

“It’s going to be great,” Ambrose murmurs encouragingly in my ear. He walks past me so he can set up Harmony’s travel crib in the cottage.

I look around, doing a quick head count.

Harmony.

Cole.

Alexis.

Boone.

Harrison.

Ambrose.

And me.

That’s seven, right? Seven? People?

Not wanting to be raining on anybody’s parade, I just keep my mouth shut as we all follow the driver up the flagstone walk to the strangely short doorway.

Ambrose and Harrison have to duck to get to the door. Boone barely clears it. It ruffles his hair.

“This will be your parlor!” the driver announces, holding her arms out and twisting slightly to indicate the expanse of the room… which seems to be about fifteen feet end to end.

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