Sting (7 page)

I’ve seen the way Willow is around kids in the café. Her sweet laugh, the way she dotes on each and every one of them with a smile and a sparkle in her eye you could see from a mile away. She makes them little baby-chinos or whatever they call them, and stamps their hand or gives them a sticker. They love her. It’s a beautiful thing to bear witness to. Seeing her here now, with this girl, it’s as if I’m watching something truly special.

She has that mothering instinct. It’s not something I see very often. For some reason, it has me wanting to throw her over my shoulder and drag her back to my bed. Of course, after we find someone to watch Princess.

Can I play daddy to someone else’s kid?

Where the fuck did that come from?

I sure fucking love to torture myself. Should I even be getting involved here? Work has to be the priority. I should run back home, but then again, this is a prime opportunity to talk to her alone. Will she be different around me when we’re outside of the comfort of the café?

I take the stairs down to the sand and walk in her direction. The hot sand squelches beneath my sneakers.

Princess squeals as the waves crash at her feet, and then she’s barrelled over once more. Willow kneels down to set her right, and a wave comes up from behind them and drenches them both.

“See, you should never turn your back on the sea, Princess. Then you won’t end up looking like you’ve been in a wet T-shirt contest, like me,” Willow says.

“Need some help here?” I offer.

Willow jumps. “Sugar,” she says under her breath when our eyes meet. I extend my arm towards her, my palm facing upward. Laughing, she shakes her head and then places her small hand in mine. I pull her to her feet, and watch as her nipples pebble beneath the white lace bra, which is now visible through her see-through top.
Ooh, baby.

“Guess you heard that, huh?” she asks.

“Don’t you think she’s a little young to be teaching stuff like that?” I joke.

She chuckles softly. “You’re probably right.”

The girls take a few steps up the sand, clear of the crashing waves. Willow pulls the bottom of her tank top out and rings out some water. She holds the fabric away from her breasts, as if that’ll stop me from noticing those hardened nipples.

Man, I’d love to take those perky prizes in my mouth right about now.

If I had my jeans on, I’d be looping my thumbs through my belt and rocking on my heels. This sure is some sight. My timing is impeccable.

“I’d offer you my shirt, but I didn’t bring one. Here, let me dry your glasses.” She hands them to me, and I wipe the lenses on the hem of my shorts.

Willow takes a long look down to my happy trail and then back up to my face, which has a prize-winning grin plastered on it. She swallows, and then clears her throat. “I can see that.”

“Big mussies,” Princess says, pointing to my chest.

“What’d she say?” I ask.

“Really?” Willow says and narrows her gaze at her.

“What?” I ask, looking at Willow. Her cheeks are now a fine shade of pink.

I lean down, and Princess jabs my bicep with her tiny pink-painted finger.

“Big mussies,” she repeats.
Oh, big muscles.

I look up and grin at Willow. Let’s see if I can get away with this cheek.

“You’re gonna have to translate for me, Willow, ’cause I have no idea what she means.” I stand, and inch my way closer to Willow. She takes in a sharp breath in response to my close proximity. I raise an eyebrow, prompting her.

She smirks, and then pokes me in the bicep. “Big muscles, you doofus. Happy?”

“Extremely,” I say, smug as anything.

I extend my hand to Princess. Her tiny pruny fingers are almost lost in my grip. “I’m Ryan. What’s your name, gorgeous?” I shake her hand and get a good look at her deep blue eyes.

“Sienna,” she says, and bats her dark lashes.

“Well, that’s a beautiful name. It’s lovely to meet you. How old are you?”

She loosens from my hold and fumbles with her hand, crossing her thumb and pinky finger over her palm. Her tongue sticks out as she holds up three crooked fingers.

“Three, wow. A big girl then.”

She tilts her head to the side, narrowing her gaze on me, and then looks up at Willow with a wide grin. “Do you wanna kiss Lolo?” she asks when her eyes land on me again. Ah! Willow is Lolo. Weird that she doesn’t call her mum.

I chuckle as Willow shuts her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Only if she’ll let me,” I say. Willow’s eyes open, and I can’t resist winking at her. She smirks, and I have no idea if we just got a little bit closer to doing just that. I guess having a kid, you don’t just rush into something with someone. I totally get that.

“Why don’t you run up and get your bucket and spade, and we’ll see if Mr Muscles here can help make you a giant sandcastle.”

“Yay, muscle man!” she cries out. Sienna runs off towards a striped pink-and-white towel, and picks up a few coloured plastic tools and puts them into her purple bucket.

“Sorry,” Willow says once we are alone.

“About what, exactly?”

Her blush deepens in her cheeks. “The whole kissing thing.”

I chuckle. “I’m not sorry. At least it’s out in the open. Must be pretty obvious if a three-year-old girl can pick up on it.”

“She’s obsessed with
The Little Mermaid
. Everything in her little world right now revolves around handsome princes kissing bejewelled princesses.”

I’d love to wrap my arms around her and kiss the ever-loving crap out of her right now, but the walls she has up are making it tough to judge what to do here. Playing it cool seems to be the only option I’ve got.

“She has her mother’s eyes. She’s beautiful.”

Willow frowns, and then diverts her gaze to her bare foot, toeing at the sand. “From what I’ve been told she has her father’s.”

What in the hell does that mean?

“Huh?”

“Her father died in a car accident when she was six months old. I never met him.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry to hear that.” The twinge in my heart takes me by surprise. This little darling doesn’t have a father. Life fucking sucks sometimes. From what I’ve seen of this kid, though, she seems pretty well adjusted.

Wait a second, that means …

“She isn’t your daughter then.”

“I’d be a lucky woman if she were, but no. She’s Gabs’ daughter.”

“Oh,” I say, as realisation dawns. That poor woman. I had the task of breaking news like that to a loved one once, and it cut me to pieces. No amount of training can ever prepare you for that moment. It tore me up for weeks, and I still remember the look on the lady’s face. How Gabby is her bright and bubbly self, having lost her partner, is beyond me. It really is a small miracle that people can put together the pieces and carry on. I guess I misread the situation when Sienna came running into the café that day.

“You’re really good with her.”

“Thanks. Just don’t tell Gabs, but she’s like my little escape. Gabs works so hard, and this is my way of helping her out when she needs some time to herself, but truly, I kind of do it for selfish reasons. Oh, and of course when I get to make sandcastles, it’s an added bonus.”

“You want kids?” I ask, then wonder where the question sprang from. Hanging around Mick is totally turning me soft. Christ, I’ll be talking about feelings and shit before too long. I just hope I didn’t just put my foot in it, because I have no idea about her past. All I know is that someone should have snatched this beauty up by now, and given her beautiful children.

Wanna come back to my place and practise making some?

“Yeah, one day. There’s just a few vital pieces missing.” She gives me a weary smile.

Whoa.
That’s deep
. Not sure I should get any further into this conversation. Not that I don’t want to.

I extend my hand. She eyes it suspiciously, and then slowly slips her hand in mine, gauging my reaction as she does.

I give her a wink. “Come on. Guess I better put these muscles to work and build something.”

She laughs softly, as I lead her towards a very excitable three-year-old.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WILLOW

“The sand’s too dry. It needs to be wetter to hold its shape,” I direct Ryan, flicking some sand in his direction. The wind carries it further than I expect, dusting his perfectly sculptured chest. Really, guys like him should not be able to walk around half-naked. I’ve had a hard time not staring at him, and typically, when I have, he’s caught me and then grinned like an idiot.

He huffs out a long breath and smiles brightly, giving me a perfect view of his white teeth, and the suitably delicious dimple in his left cheek to boot.
Sigh.
It’s a beautiful sight, and for a moment I wonder if I’ll be seeing his smile more often. It certainly wouldn’t be a bad thing.

“You criticising my castle-making skills isn’t doing anything for my ego,” he drawls.

“It’s simple, really. Sandcastles 101. The sand has to be wet enough. Just offering friendly advice, aren’t I, Princess?”

“Yes,” Sienna says with a dramatic nod. “More seashells,” she screeches, as she passes Ryan a bucket loaded with seashells that we spent the better half of the last hour collecting. He takes a few from the container and places them in a line at the base of the castle.

“Okay, okay,” Ryan says. “No need to get bossy, young lady. You’re working my fingers to the bone.”

Sienna crawls over and takes Ryan’s closest hand. One by one, she carefully inspects each finger.

“No, I not,” she says and giggles. “You funny, muscles.”

I laugh out loud, and Ryan lets out a hearty chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “You just let me know if you’re happy with the shell placement. Gotta get this perfect.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think there’s a certain little girl who has you wrapped around their finger. Do you have kids of your own?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the
P
.

“A wife?”

Gah!
Face palm moment
. I’ve gone too far. I’ve just opened the door to questions. I couldn’t help myself. How could a guy like this—polite, handsome, and good with kids—be single? Unattached? What am I missing here? He doesn’t seem like the nut-job type. Surely my internal alarm bells would be ringing like crazy if he was. But then again, I’ve been duped before.

He raises an eyebrow, and his mouth quirks to the side. “No, Blondie.”

I love it when he calls me that.

He dusts the sand off his hands by clapping them together, and runs his long fingers through his hair, smoothing the stray longer pieces of sandy-brown strands that the wind has blown forward.

“I’ve got a few of my own missing pieces,” he continues.

Holy sharks
. Is it bad that I’m swooning? That I’m wondering if I could be one of those pieces?

Open mouthed, “Oh,” is all I can respond with. Our eyes lock in a trance, and it’s not until a large cold rain drop crashes on my skin that I tear my eyes away.

A loud
eeeeep
noise from Sienna makes both of us jump as the rain hits.

“Okay, I think we’d better pack up before we get drenched,” I say. A crack of thunder has Sienna and I jumping out of our skins.

“I’d argue that we don’t need another wet T-shirt contest, but I’d be lying,” he says, with a naughty wink.

“You know, Sienna’s right. You
are
funny.”

I quickly gather up our things and Ryan carries Sienna on his broad shoulders towards my car. She gets a bit excited and yanks some of the longer tufts of hair on each side of his head like they’re reins.

“Take it easy, cowgirl,” he says, his grin forced.

Ryan helps me load everything into the car, and without as much resistance as she normally gives, Sienna is compliant in being strapped into her car seat.

I jump in the driver’s seat, start the car and lower down the window as Ryan approaches my door. He places one arm on the roof of the car and sweeps his hand through his wet hair, slicking it down.
Mmm, what a pleasant sight.
Raindrops join to form lines as they travel down his shoulders and over each delicious curve of his abs.

He taps twice on the roof. “Guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” he says and smiles, giving me one last impression of that dimple for the day.

Am I ready to say goodbye, though?

“Kiss bye-bye?” Sienna says loudly, reminding me that I do in fact have a small child in the car. I turn around to see her little lips puckered, her arms outstretched and fingers wiggling in his direction.

Ryan leans closer into the window-frame. “You save your sweet kisses for someone your own age, Princess,” he says.

“Kiss Lolo,” she says, leaning forward in her car seat and pointing at me. The harness strains to support her squirming frame.
So not cool, Sienna.
We’re definitely going to have to have a talk about this later.

Ryan clears his throat. I turn to him, I’m sure with a bright red face.

“How about it?” he offers, waggling his eyebrows. “Gotta give the princess what she wants.”

“I don’t give my sweet kisses out as easily as Sienna here,” I say and smile.

“Now that’s a damn shame,” he says.

A crack of thunder, louder than last time, booms in the distance. The rain pelts hard against the bonnet of the car, so much so it’s deafening.

“Do you want a ride home?” I yell out. Am I out of my mind offering this? I barely know this guy, and normally I’m so cautious. I just have a feeling about him, a knowing, that he’s okay. He’s been really awesome with Sienna too, much to my surprise. Guys don’t normally put in that much effort with kids. And I can’t leave him here in this weather. God knows how far it is to his place, but I’m not a person who can just let someone fend for him or herself. My parents taught me better than that.

“You sure?” he says, narrowing his eyes in some kind of show of concern.

Boom!

His head jerks towards the sky. “Jesus,” he says in shock.