You can see her brain working through every decision and every interaction, because she’s so good at assessing consequence and danger by now that it’s become second nature.

She knows that time always passes and her day will come. Just hang tight.

She has the smooth skin and body of a young woman, but the eyes of someone who’s seen decades.

My eyes fall to her mouth, remembering the feel of her kisses, and another rush of heat coats my chest just under my skin. I turn away, running my hand through my wet hair.

It wasn’t a fluke. I want her.

I love the smell of her in the house, the way when she sits next to me, either here or in the movie theater that first night, so easily and comfortably like we’re two peas in a fucking pod, and how I’m excited to wake up every day, knowing I can see her.

“Jesus Christ,” I say under my breath.

I’m having my first fucking crush in like twenty-years.

“What?” I hear her ask.

I lift up my head, turning toward her. Did I say that out loud?

“Nothing,” I shoot back.

She peers up at me as she empties the last gun, and I pull the noodles up out of the pool and toss them up on the deck to evade her eyes.

I want more of what happened last night, and I don’t know what I’m going to do.

A phone starts ringing on the picnic table again, and I look over at her.

“Your phone’s ringing again.”

She nods, a slight frown crossing her face. “Yeah, I know who it is.”

My eyebrows rise a little. Who’s she trying to avoid?

The phone had rung several times since I’d been home, and to my knowledge, she hadn’t answered it.

She looks over at me, seeing me staring at her with a questioning look on my face, no doubt.

She just laughs to herself, explaining, “Guys in town think I’m easy picking now that Cole and I are over.” She runs her fingers through her hair, fluffing the wet strands. “They’re swooping in to comfort me.”

She says the last with air quotes, and my armor instantly steels. Comfort her?

But I force myself to back off. It’s actually just what I need to put things in the proper perspective. She should be going out with her friends.

“Well, maybe you should give one a chance,” I tell her, forcing the words out. “I want you and Cole to make-up and be friends again, but you should get out and have some fun.”

The words taste like shit in my mouth, but I feel good I did the right thing. She’ll date someone. I can start seeing someone. We’ll get distracted and invested in new people.

“I will,” she answers, cutting off my train of thought. “Carter Hewitt invited me to go tubing this weekend, so I said I’d go.”

My face falls. I don’t know a Carter Hewitt, but…

“Tubing?” I say, trying to keep my cool.

I approach her at the edge of the pool. “Uh…no,” I tell her, shaking my head. “No.”

“Huh?” Her eyebrows pinch in confusion.

“Six hours of drifting on a river with nothing else to do but drink your ass off?” I blurt out. “By the time he gets you back to his truck, you’ll be three sheets to the wind, and then you really will be easy picking.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Absolutely not.”

Her eyes round, and her jaw clenches in anger.

Oh, shit.

“You are so…” she whisper-yells, so the kids don’t hear, “old school!” She scowls up at me, her lips tight. “This alpha, possessive, keep-your-daughter-locked-up-with-a-shotgun thing is insulting! I’m not an idiot, and you…” She bares her teeth. “Are not my father.”

I arch an eyebrow as she pulls her legs out of the water and stands up, huffing. I fall back, floating through the water. Yeah, believe me, I know that. The thoughts I have about you aren’t the least bit fatherly.

“Wrap up the pizza in tin foil before you put it in the fridge,” she orders me. “Don’t just slap it on a plate.”

I lock my jaw to hide my amusement at her orders. Like I haven’t wrapped up leftovers before in my adult life.

Grabbing the kids’ bags and towels, she takes Ava’s hand in hers and leads Jensen toward the back gate. “I’m going to run them home and get them in bed,” she tells me and then turns to them. “What do you guys say to Mr. Lawson?”

“Thank you!” the kids say in their slurred voices with mouths full of food.

I step out of the pool and grab a towel, drying off my hair.

“Mr. Cramer said he’d be home by eleven,” Jordan says. “But I know the team usually stops for beers at the pub after the game, so I might be late. I have my key if you lock up.”

“I’ll be up,” I reply under my breath. I’d trust a junkie to hold my wallet more than I’d trust Kyle Cramer.

I hear the wooden door swing open and the kids shuffle through.

Then I hear her voice. “Oh, and you’re a jerk,” she says.

I peer over at her. “You’ll thank me when you’re not getting date-raped.”

She makes a face and pulls the gate closed, slamming it hard.

I stare after her, laughing quietly. She’s so fucking adorable.

And then my face falls, realizing I’m almost giddy. I’m not a smiler, and I’ve far exceeded my quota since she’s come into the house.

I finish cleaning up the backyard as the sky slowly turns black overhead, and I make sure to wrap the pizza in tinfoil, as instructed. The pool is cleared, the toys and floaties put away, and the picnic table is clean. Grabbing the damp towels off the deck, I trail into the house and lock the back door, turning off the pool light, as well.

Tossing the towels into the washer, I leave the lid open, so I can put more in after my shower.

As I head for the stairs, though, the doorbell rings.

Crossing the living room, I pull open the front door and see a young man through the screen. My guard rises a little, but I push it open, forcing him to back up.

“Hey,” he says.

I nod, taking in the posh, wannabe frat boy who looks slightly familiar, although I can’t remember from where.

“Remember me?” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Jay McCabe. Cole’s friend.”

I shake his hand, studying him. Jay…

“Is Jordan here?” he asks. “I was told she was staying here still.”

Jordan? What does he want with…

And then it hits me.

“Jay,” I say, realization dawning as my spine straightens steel rod straight. “Her ex-boyfriend?”

The corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk and a light hits his eyes. “Yeah, we went out.”

But I’m not even listening anymore. I run my fingers over my thumb, itching to fist my hands, as my chest starts rising and falling with heavy breaths.

I step out of the house and walk straight for him, only about an inch taller, but I make sure he knows it.

His face falls when I don’t stop, and he stumbles back to avoid me walking into him.

“Hey,” he protests.

But I keep going. I walk until he’s forced backward, down the stairs and to the fucking grass.

Alarm sets in his eyes. “Jesus, what the hell?”

I step up to him and cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t normally throw my weight around a kid like you, but I want to make this clear,” I bite out. “You may have your own little posse of followers who are enamored of you or scared of you, but I…” I pause for effect, “am not. I know who you are and what you like to do. Keep away from Jordan, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d fuck off around my son, too.” I start walking into him again, forcing him off my lawn. “Don’t step foot on my property again, or I’ll put you in a hole under some wet cement, and make you part of the foundation of the next house I build, never to be seen again. Now take a hike.”

And I gesture with my chin for him to leave.

“Wha—”

“Did I stutter?” I cut him off.

He’s breathing hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and he digs into his pocket for his keys, I assume.

“Jesus,” he says and climbs into his car.

But all I can see is red. I want to tear him apart. How can my son call that guy a friend?

He took it upon himself to put his hands on her. He’ll never even set his fucking eyes on her again if I have anything to say about it.

I watch as he speeds out of the driveway and into the street, taking off as fast as he can. In a moment, any fear he might be feeling will turn to anger, and he’ll talk himself into believing I’m not capable of the threat.

And part of me hopes he tries his luck again just to give me an excuse.

I glance over at Cramer’s house, seeing all the lights on but no movement at the drapes, so hopefully she didn’t see him come here.

Walking back inside, I lock the door but then think better of it and unlock it again. You know, just in case she’s outside and he comes back and she needs to get into the house quickly or something.

I roll my eyes. Jesus.

Heading upstairs, I veer into the master bathroom and pull open the shower door, turning on the water. It quickly fills with steam, and I pull off my swim shorts and step in, closing the door.

The hot water hits my skin like a thousand needles, but it quickly follows with warmth that feels so good I’m almost lightheaded.

Planting my hands on the wall, I dip my head under the spout, letting the water cascade down over the back of my head, my neck, and my back.

What a clusterfuck.

I can’t get a hold of my kid, and when I can, he doesn’t want to talk to me. And it certainly doesn’t help the situation that I’m drooling over his latest girlfriend like I’ve never done for any other woman in my life.

And even worse, now that she’s single, I’m going to have every little asshole in town sniffing around my front door, just dying to get his hands on her.

I know I can’t have her, but it still won’t stop. The desire.