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  My fist clenches in my pocket. “With all due respect, you’re what twenty-four? What do you know about raising a child and more specifically about raising my daughter?”

  Her gaze darts to a set of dads walking by us before she pins those fiery blue eyes back on me. It’s as if she’s a storm front and the energy in our little five-by-five area shifts. Gone are the summer skies and humidity and I prepare myself for an ice storm.

  “I’m old enough to know that you’re fooling yourself. If you continue lying to her, it’ll only be harder when she’s older.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Do you know this from personal experience?” I tilt my head in a condescending way as if I’m talking to a child myself.

  Her parents are married. She was raised with the luxury of money, country clubs, opportunities and two parents who loved one another.

  I step closer and she draws back, her back hitting the tree at the edge of the path.

  When I glance both ways I see no one coming, so I inch forward until I can whisper in her ear. “Let’s stick to things we know, all right, Miss Santora? You stick to art when it comes to my daughter and I’ll worry about the stuff that matters.”

  The scent of coconut drifts my way again and with her body so close, even as pissed as I am, my dick twitches. Stepping back, I see that her face is flushed.

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree, Mr. Kent.”

  “I suppose we will.”

  A couple of kids run up the path from the cabin with their parents following behind, their curious gazes on us.

  “Thank you for raising the issue, Miss Santora. I’ll make sure to handle it,” I say congenially, smiling to one of the mothers walking past.

  Caterina quickly pulls herself together and nods. “Thank you, Mr. Kent.”

  I continue down the path to get my daughter, realizing that Cat is just as headstrong and temperamental as she was all those years ago. The only difference is that now those qualities make me want to pull her closer instead of pushing her away.

  6

  Caterina

  He is such an asshole.

  Asshole with a capital fucking A.

  A Fucking Asshole.

  An FA.

  Stick to your popsicle sticks and glitter. Little does he know, I have five New York galleries inquiring about my work. Five. Mr. Fix it thinks I’m beneath him, but why should I be surprised? That’s classic coming from him.

  “Cat?” a voice pulls me from the vulgar rant on Marcus Kent in my head.

  I look up from straightening up today’s activities to find my roommates, Ava and Charlie, waiting by the cabin door. We carpool to work together and my gaze slips to the wall clock.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, girls.” I rush to finish so we can get home.

  “We’ll help.” Charlie digs in right away, helping me place the crayons in the canisters while Ava closes the glue bottles and places them by the sink.

  “Thanks. The swimming delayed us.” I push Marcus Kent out of my head, but as usual, Charlie lets very little go.

  “So, who’s the fucking asshole?” she asks, scooping up crayon bins in her arms and meeting Ava over by the table.

  “What?” I told the other two assistants no scissors and here I am picking up little pieces of paper some five-year-old found amusement in cutting for ten minutes.

  “You were mumbling about some asshole,” Ava says and plops down on a table.

  “Ugh, just some dad who thinks he knows everything and I’m some little young girl he can push around.”

  They both still, Charlie pausing mid-step to look over at me.

  I could be truthful with my roommates. Fill them in on what happened six years ago, but I’ve known them for a week and I don’t really feel comfortable telling them about the most mortifying thing ever to happen to me. A moment I never even wrote in my journal in case my big sister, Tahlia, ever decided to be nosy. Plus, that way it was like it never happened. At least in my mind it didn’t.

  “Why are you guys staring at me?” I ask.

  Charlie looks at Ava and a slow smile turns up the corner of her lips. “You just seem worked up.”

  The two of them go about putting the stuff away again.

  “You’d be mad too if some dad told you to stick to Popsicle sticks and glitter.”

  Ava laughs, but Charlie elbows her in the ribs. “He said that?” Ava asks. “Who is it?”

  I point to her. “Nope. I’m not saying. You guys know way too many people in this town.”

  She laughs. “You do realize most of the campers are from all over Oregon and California, not just Climax Cove. Plus, I only spent summers here with my dad and rarely went into town.” We’re finishing up so she sits on one of the shorter tables, examining some string she’s holding in her hand with a look of disgust.

  Ava’s dad owns Camp Tall Pines, but it’s a summer thing for them both. Victor just moved to Climax Cove after Ava started college, so she’s rarely here now.

  “Still. I’ll probably say his name and then one of you’ll tell me something about him.”

  “What are you scared we’ll say?” Charlie asks. I’m most worried about what she’ll have to say since she grew up in Climax Cove.

  “Something nice that will make me second guess hating him and I need all my energy to loathe this man.”

  Ava drops what’s in her hand and my eyes widen. I rush over to make sure it really is what I think it is.

  Lily’s bracelet. Shit. She left it.

  If I were as stupid as Marcus Kent believes I am, I wouldn’t know how important that bracelet is. How Lily rubs it occasionally, mostly when she’s unsure or nervous about something. I tuck it into my pocket.

  “Do you have a fondness for old string?” Ava’s perfectly arched eyebrows scrunch together.

  “It belongs to one of the girls in my group.”

  Ava hops off the table. “Well, someone should make her a new one. That thing probably has more germs than a rest area’s bathroom floor.” She shakes her head.

  “I think it’s really important to her,” I say. But one thing I’ve figured out in the short time I’ve lived with her is that she’s very blunt.

  “Well, sanitize your hands before you come in the house. I’m not catching some petri dish disgusto disease.” Her eyes roll to the back of her head and she does a full body shiver.

  “You aren’t the one who has it tucked in their pocket.”

  “Yeah, relax germaphobe.” Charlie steps in, another girl who isn’t afraid to share her opinions. Truth be told, it’s one of the things I like most about them.

  Ava sticks her tongue out a Charlie and she laughs. “Anyway. He can’t be as bad as some of the dads in my group.” She frowns for a second before she continues. “One actually stripped off his t-shirt this afternoon and asked if I’d like to go for a dip with him.”

  I laugh and Charlie looks at her as though she has three heads. “Seriously?” Charlie asks.

  Ava nods. “Yep.”

  “What did you say?” I ask, flipping the lights off in the cabin and shutting the door.

  “I said that camp policy says I’m not allowed to be alone with little boys.” She fans herself. “But he does have a nice set of abs. He had that whole V thing going on.”

  The three of us let out a tortured moan in unison because, hello—the V. Every girl knows the V is panty-scorching material. It makes smart girls do stupid things.

  “And then he left?” Charlie asks.

  She stares at me unblinking. “No. Then he played with his son and his friends. Then when I rounded all the boys up, he tried to sneak in as a camper.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes as the three of us continue along the path through the woods. “I feel bad for his son. I don’t think he has a serious bone in his muscled, rock hard body.” She hip checks me. “But enough about my annoying single daddy. Who’s yours?”

  “It doesn’t really matter. My anger is dwindling.” I shrug.

  “Interest
ing,” Charlie says and waggles her brows.

  Surprisingly, they both let the topic go and we all climb into Charlie’s Jeep. It’s lime green and kind of obnoxious, but more comfortable for the three of us than my car.

  She speeds out of the parking lot and Ava grabs the roll bar in front of her. “How many times have I told you, this is not the Indy 500!” she screams at her, but Charlie shrugs her shoulders.

  In the ten-minute trip from Camp Tall Pines to Climax Cove, Marcus Kent highjacks all my thoughts. As pissed off as he made me today, it seems I can’t not want him. When he was only inches from pressing into my body, I was hyperaware of the way his breath tickled my neck and the scent of cedar wafting off him from his work earlier in the day. I wanted his arms to cage me into the tree, his fingers to brush along my neck and pull the string of my bikini top so I’d be exposed to him.

  But his words were like venom in my ear, poisoning all my lustful thoughts. I have to face the facts…Marcus still sees me as nothing but an annoying child.

  7

  Marcus

  I’d hoped swimming would tire Lily out, but she’s bouncing around the bathroom while I shave talking about the kids in her camp group. How she was talking to someone and then met someone new and then someone else got upset. I’m not following because I’m barely listening. I’m still preoccupied and seething from Cat’s earlier comments.

  “Daddy?” she questions and I meet her gaze in the mirror.

  Her eyes are wide and focused in on me, so I’m guessing I missed a question.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, what did you say?” I ask.

  “Do I have a mommy?” she asks.

  I clench the shaving cream in my hand, forcing it out between my fingers. “Of course, you have a mommy.”

  “Then where is she? Beth said that her mommy lives across the world, but she FaceTimes her anytime she wants.”

  Well, FaceTime with your mom isn’t so easy, sweetie.

  I pat the shaving cream onto my face and rinse my hand off before I reach for the razor on the counter. “Can we talk about this another time?”

  I glance at her reflection in the mirror as I take my first swipe with the razor up my cheek. I watch the way her lips droop and how her gaze veers to the tiled bathroom floor and it feels like a fist just wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed.

  Lily and I have always had an open relationship. I’m truthful about everything with her to the point that we’ve even had the conversation about how she should call her private area a vagina instead of a hoo-haw. Do you know how horribly painful it is to hear your sweet, innocent daughter say her vagina hurts? But when it comes to her mom, someone has to protect her and that’s my job.

  She’s quiet for a while and the guilt burrows even further under my skin. I know it can’t stay this way forever—me trying to protect her from the truth. Truth is, I understand Caterina’s point even if it really is none of her concern. She’s a camp counselor, not a child psychologist.

  “So, guess what?” I try to lighten the mood a bit.

  Lily doesn’t answer.

  “Ashley is coming over tonight,” I say, knowing she enjoys playing with Ashley while she’s watching her.

  “Where are you going?”

  Instead of the excitement I assumed I’d get, I get a snappish question with narrowed eyes. Women. Even at five, they’re all the same.

  “I’m going out with Uncle Dane.”

  “On a date?” she asks and I wonder how she even knows what that is. Lily has never seen me with a woman and any extracurriculars I did have over the years were done well away from my everyday life with her.

  “Where did you learn that word?” I ask.

  A small smile graces her lips. “Toby told me Uncle Dane goes on a lot of dates.”

  That man could use a lesson or two in discretion.

  “What does Toby think about that?” I ask, running the razor down my other cheek.

  She shrugs. “He just asked if you went on dates.”

  “And what did you say?” I turn on the faucet to rinse the razor.

  “I asked what a date was.”

  Good girl.

  I glance at her as I bring the razor to my chin. She’s looking at me waiting for an answer. “Oh…a date is when two people go to dinner or a movie.”

  “So, are you going on a date with Uncle Dane?” Her big blue eyes stare up at me innocently waiting for an answer.

  I let the sound of the tap fill the room for a moment while I contemplate my options.

  I nod. “Yes, I’m going on a date with Uncle Dane.”

  “Can I go on a date with Toby?” She jumps up and down clapping her hands. “We can double date,” she squeals.

  “You know what double date means?”

  She giggles at my furrowed brow. “Toby says that’s when four people are there. Come on, Dad.”

  I chuckle. “I promise another time.” I ruffle her blonde locks, but again her eyes focus on the floor and her bottom lip droops.

  No one can make you feel like a bigger failure than your own children.

  My phone rings from where it sits on the counter and I see Dane’s name flashing on the screen. My thumb hovers over the accept button. Lily’s already asking way too many questions. I click ignore.

  While I finish up shaving, Lily leaves the bathroom, her feet dragging, her chin to her chest, arms swinging side to side in a dramatic fashion.

  As I finish up, I replay the conversation with Caterina through my head. Maybe I shouldn’t have come down so hard on her, but damn. Lily’s mother is none of her business.

  My phone rings again and I press the button on speaker now that Lily isn’t here. “You’re becoming like a nagging wife.”

  Dane’s deep chuckle rings over the line. “Don’t be wearing jeans and a baggy shirt tonight. You need to show off those guns if you wanna get some.”

  I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the tip but I can dress myself.”

  “Well, I know it’s been awhile. Figured you could use my help.”

  “I don’t.”

  I’m starting to regret saying yes to this already.

  “Hey now, don’t show up tonight with this pissy attitude. You’ll never get laid.” I hear the clinking of glasses behind me.

  I should tell him that I have no plans on getting laid, but I have a feeling that would only make this phone call more painful.

  “Dane. You’re toeing the line between annoying and asshole. Tread carefully.”

  He laughs again. “Okay, okay, but get all prettied up will ya?”

  “Bye, Dane.”

  “Six thirty at Breakers.”

  “I’m hanging up now.” I hit the little red button that delivers blissful silence once again.

  As soon as I’ve wiped my face with a towel, the doorbell rings. Lily’s footsteps barrel to the door, but I run out and catch her before she gets there.

  “Dad, I can answer the door.” She turns the knob, but I place my hand on the wood door to stop her.

  “Lily, you never open this door without me, do you understand?” I stare down at her.

  She sighs and nods. “Okay.”

  “I’m serious. Never by yourself.”

  She nods again. “Okay, Daddy.” She opens the door and there’s Ashley with a bag packed full of stuff to keep Lily busy.

  “Hi, Mr. Kent,” she says, her cheeks flushing pink.

  It’s then that I realize, I’m shirtless. Great.

  “I’m going to go finish getting ready, Lily,” I say, focusing my attention on her. “Listen to Ashley, okay?”

  She doesn’t bother answering, instead grabbing Ashley’s hand, pulling her into the family room.

  “I should be out of here in about a half hour. I left some money for pizza on the kitchen counter,” I call after them.

  “Thank you, Mr. Kent.” The two of them disappear around the corner.

  I shake my head and head into my bedroom to decide what I’m wearing. I pull a few shirts
out one at a time, decide they’re not right and put them back. Eventually my mind drifts to how appealing Cat looked in that scrap of fabric she calls a swimsuit. Despite my best efforts, I can’t get the image from my mind and my cock twitches in my pants.

  Damn it. I’m going to need to take care of this if I stand any chance of not being distracted tonight. I lock the door of my bedroom and quickly head to the ensuite and run the shower for the second time this evening.

  Once I’m under the cascade of water in the shower, visions of Caterina float into my mind and my fist wraps around my cock. I pump, thinking about that blue bikini. The way her tits look fuller than they did when she was younger, how they strained against the thin fabric, begging for attention.

  While I imagine exactly what I would’ve done to her if we were alone and she wasn’t a decade younger and my daughter’s camp counselor, I squeeze the head of my cock and groan.

  I cage her up against a tree and the way her breath hitches tells me she wants this as much as I do. As I inch closer to her, goose bumps prick her skin and her chest heaves as if she can’t take in enough air.

  “Mr. Kent,” she’s trying to use that proper tone she always does with me, but instead it comes out breathy and wanting. It practically begs for me to do what I want to her, to control both her actions and her reactions, and for a man like me, there is no bigger turn-on.

  I continue pumping my stiff dick and use my other hand to cup my balls and squeeze, eliciting another low groan from my throat.

  “Call me, Marcus,” I tell her. I eye the string of the bikini dangling from where it’s tied at her neck and twirl it around my finger, letting her know that I’m going to give her exactly what she wants. Eventually.

  I take a moment to let her feel the need she has for me. Let it settle in until she’s standing there with eyes full of lust, squirming and pressing her thighs together to try and relieve the pressure building in her center. Her breasts rise and fall with her heavy breaths, the stiff rigid peaks begging for attention.

  There’s no nasty words now. No professional barrier separating the two of us.