Dating a Single Dad (21 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

T
HE
ALARM
MUST
DIE
.

Hank fumbled for the source of the offending noise and smashed it with his hand, groaning. Images from the past few hours swam into his consciousness: Millie weeping giant tears over being unable to fall asleep, the hours of fruitless attempts, Brynn knocking on the door and saving his ass.

And speaking of asses, he’d certainly done his best imitation of one last night. He had some serious apologizing to do. Maybe even a little groveling.

I’m not very polite when I’m half-asleep....

I know you were trying to help, but sometimes I’m an idiot about that....

I know you meant well, but when you offered the nail polish remover it made me worry that you can’t stick with anything, just like when you told Mills to walk away, just like when you say you have to move on, and I don’t want that to be true, don’t want it to be you...

He grabbed his glasses, shoved them on his face and reached for his phone to check the headlines. The world hadn’t exploded in the night. Which meant he needed to get moving and face the music.

Having avoided the inevitable as long as he could, he grabbed the blankets, jerked them back and sat upright. He staggered toward the kitchen with no thought more coherent than his immediate and all-encompassing need for caffeine, but was stopped en route by a most unexpected sight. Brynn was still sacked out on his sofa, Millie snuggled against her. Millie’s thumb rested against her cheek, but for the first time he could remember, it wasn’t in her sleeping mouth.

Holy shit.

He wasn’t sure which sight made him happier. Millie without her thumb—wow. It was what he had hoped for, but that didn’t mean he had believed it would work. Or that it would last. But, damn, it was a hell of a great start.

And Brynn... She was here. Still here. In his mix of pissed-off exhaustion when he hit the hay, his last thoughts had been that she would probably get Millie settled, watch over her for a while and head back to her own cabin. He hadn’t expected her to sleep on the sofa,
really
hadn’t expected to find her still here this morning.

That’s ’cause you were too busy being an idiot to think things through, dumb-ass.

He let himself watch the sleeping beauties for a moment. Millie’s hair spilled over Brynn’s cow jammies. Brynn’s arms wound under and over Millie, as if even in sleep, she wanted to be sure Mills didn’t slip off the sofa. They breathed in tandem, one chest rising as the other fell. Like they were connected.

Like they were family.

Whoa.

Head spinning—and not simply due to lack of sleep—he continued on to the kitchen and hit the button that would bring the elixir of life to him. Muffled rustling pulled his attention back to the sofa. Brynn was waking up.

Time to start groveling.

He filled a travel mug with coffee, added the double cream but no sugar that she preferred, then started a fresh serving for himself before tiptoeing in her direction. He bent over the back of the sofa and offered her the mug.

“Thanks,” she whispered, pushing herself upright and accepting his offer. “You’re a saint.”

Not.

“How ya doing?”

She winced. “My back isn’t very happy with me, but it looks like she made it.”

“Yeah. Give me a second and I’ll carry her to her bed.”

“You’re sure she won’t wake up?”

“She might, but you’re going to need to move soon anyway, right?”

“Yeah, probably.” She shifted. Her hand rose as if to settle on his cheek, but she turned it into a not-very-convincing stretch at the last moment. She glanced away but not before he caught the way her face had pinked up. He would have thought she was embarrassed—but there was more to the way she was avoiding his gaze. It was like she was hiding from him.

Or slightly ticked over his behavior.

He bent lower, all the better to speak softly. “I was a horse’s ass last night. I was rude and stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Not to worry. None of us were at our best.”

She was saying the right words, but she wasn’t meeting his gaze. Not good. He ran one tentative finger along her hairline. She stilled beneath his touch, but not in a good way.

“What’s wrong, Brynn?”

“What? Nothing. Everything is fine.”

“Are you mad at me? Not that I don’t deserve it, but—”

He stopped. He hadn’t known it was possible for someone who was lying down—with someone else wrapped around her, no less—to curl into herself. Yet she managed to do it.

“Hank.” She still wasn’t meeting his gaze. “Please don’t. It’s too la— I mean, too early in the morning for anything that requires thought, okay?”

Right. It was damned early and he knew it, but he would bet the farm that she had been about to say it was too
late.

Which made no sense whatsoever, especially at this ungodly hour. But there it was.

But too late for what?

* * *

T
HERE
WASN
’
T
ENOUGH
yoga in the world to unkink Brynn after her night on the sofa, not nearly enough caffeine to wake her and not a hope in hell of clarity despite hours spent wondering and worrying. But one step into Taylor’s office, one look at Taylor’s too-wide eyes in her very white face, and Brynn snapped to attention.

“What is it?”

“Close the door.” Taylor’s voice shook. Brynn closed it, locking it for good measure, and hurried to the chair in front of Taylor’s, pulling it so close that their knees touched.

“I just got an email from Ian. He was able to move his flight up a day.” She closed her eyes. “He doesn’t want me to tell his family. He has...plans...for those twenty-four hours.”

The breath left Brynn’s lungs in a giant whoosh of comprehension. “Shit.”

“My thoughts exactly. But I can’t put that in my reply, can I?”

“Give me a second.” Brynn bit her lip and looked around the room for inspiration, but whiteboards and wall-size calendars only emphasized the fact that the day of reckoning was rapidly approaching.

“Okay. Brainstorming time.” If only her sleepless night hadn’t stolen her capacity to think. “Let’s toss out some options. Remember, no protests or objections. So. You could meet him at the airport and hide away for a day as requested.”

“I am not—”

Brynn raised a finger. Taylor clamped her lips together.

“You could break up with him as soon as he lands.”

“Too close to the festival.”

“No commentary, Taylor.”

“Bite me, Brynn.”

God, couldn’t this have waited a day? “I’m trying to come up with an idea to save your ass.”

Taylor crossed her arms.

“Think carefully about not sleeping with him. It could—” Out of habit, she had been about to say that it could reignite Taylor’s passion for Ian, but no. That ship had long since sailed. If Brynn wanted any chance of rescuing this situation, she had to remind herself that it was now Taylor and Carter. Except it wasn’t, and never would be.

“It might be an easier way to say goodbye,” she pointed out gently. “I know you think I’m living in fantasyland, but—”

“It’s not an option, Brynn.”

“Then you’re going to have to either break up with him now or come up with a hell of a convincing lie.”

“I thought you were supposed to be helping.”

“Well, what do you expect? Did you think I could just wave my magic wand and make it all better?”

Taylor’s eyebrows pinched together as she stared at Brynn. Then she whirled around in her chair.

“Forget it. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

Oh, hell. Now Brynn had some more guilt to add to her collection.

“Tay, I’m sorry. I had a lousy night and didn’t get much sleep and I’m not at my best right now.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

The urge to dump it all on Taylor was almost physical—to say, “Hey, I know I’m a bitch, but this morning I woke up on Hank’s sofa and he bent over and gave me coffee and for a minute it was all so damned perfect that I can’t think of anything else. Because it can’t happen again. And it won’t. And all I can think is that I’m losing out at a chance on something so amazing that it scares the crap out of me.”

But that wasn’t why she was here.

She set her briefcase on the table and laid a hand on Taylor’s shoulder. It took a second but Tay’s hand grabbed hers and squeezed.

“For the record,” Taylor said in a thick voice, “I don’t think you have a magic wand. Just a kind heart and a really good head on your shoulders. If I’ve been taking advantage of those, I’m sorry.”

Her words pulled the plug on Brynn’s confusion. “Oh, sweetie. I’m an exhausted shrew today. Slap me or something.”

“No way. I still need you to help me figure out what to do about Ian.” Taylor swiveled round with a faint but determined smile. “But first you’re going to tell me why you had such a lousy night.”

“It’s nothing,” Brynn began, the familiar words coming automatically. Then she reconsidered.

What was it she had laughed about with Libby? Something about focusing on fixing everyone else and ignoring her own issues?

“I got up in the night and all the lights were on at Hank’s place so I thought something was wrong, and I went up there and Millie was an exhausted wreck because he painted her nails with the no-thumb-sucking stuff I gave him. So I sent him off to sleep and I stayed up with Mills and we all made it through but I’m kind of bitchy this morning and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. And I’m sorry.”

Taylor blinked. “Whoa. Okay. Bitchiness is definitely allowed after that.”

“Yeah.” And that was as far as the revelations were going to go. But it felt good to get that little bit off her chest.

“So anyway, enough of me. Back to Ian. Let me grab my magic wand.” She grabbed a pencil, twirled it between her fingers. “You’re going to need a foolproof reason for not sleeping with him, and simple cramps won’t cut it in this case.”

“We could drug him so he passes out.”

“Good thought, but what happens when he wakes up? No. It has to be something inarguable. And you have to be so miserable that he can’t even suggest some alternatives. Unless you think you might be able to...”

“No. It would feel like I was cheating on Carter.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Taylor shook her head and sighed. “So I need to be in the hospital or horribly injured or puking my guts out.”

“I think those are your choices, yeah.”

“I’d rather be choosing between London or Paris. Chocolate or vanilla. Hugs or kisses.”

Brynn flashed back to that moment on the sofa, still half-asleep, the first hints of coffee teasing her nostrils and Millie warm against her and Hank bending over her with that sleepy apology that had twisted her inside out. She had been so close to pulling him down for a kiss. Millie was asleep, it would have been safe and secret and perfect.

And that, of course, was why she had changed direction at the last moment. Because it had been so automatic to reach for him, so natural, that she had known she was on the brink of falling into something she had no right to claim.

Just sex,
he had said that first night, and she had agreed. Happily. But she had been lying through her teeth, even if she didn’t know it. There was no such thing as
just sex
with Hank, and this morning had been the proof. There had been nothing sexy or seductive about those few moments. That had been all about comfort and gratitude and sharing a lousy experience but coming through it better—battered, but better—because they had pulled each other through.

There was a word for those kinds of moments, those kinds of feelings. A word that had her closing her eyes tight and whispering, “No, no, please, no” inside.

“You have to tell him the truth.”

“Brynn, we—”

She shook her head, cutting Taylor off midobjection. The words had slipped out without forethought, but something about them seemed so right....

“It’s only a couple of weeks now.” Brynn leaned forward, warming up to her topic. “In fact, this might be perfect timing, you know? Long enough that he has time to process the news before he comes home, but not so long that he has to deal with it forever. He would get through the worst of it, then he’d come home, be with family, have the festival... You could be gone already so he doesn’t have to deal with seeing you and you don’t have to lie to him anymore....”

The more she talked, the more she realized that this might just be the solution they all needed. The truth would come out. The lies would end. The complications would cease and she could get everyone through the festival and under control, and then leave. They could all move on that much faster. Taylor, Ian, Carter...her.

Hank.

No more lying to Hank. No more guilt. No more slipping out of control and struggling to hold up the wall that was keeping her from falling for him.

“I don’t know....”

“Take a day to think it over.” She placed her hand over Taylor’s. “It could be the best way out.”

Taylor’s head bowed. “I think you might be right. It’s just that...it will be so final, you know? Not that I want this to drag out—it’s killing me, it’s killing Carter—but at least while I’m here, I’m still with him.”

“Oh, honey. You know that the longer you stay, the harder it will be, right?” Taylor nodded. Brynn turned the chair so Taylor was facing her, knelt and clasped shaking hands between her own.

“Sweetie, Carter is going to need time, too. If you wait until Ian comes home, people will expect him to be sympathetic, and if it’s all fresh for him, too, that might be too much to expect.”

“I know.” Taylor silently mouthed the words.

“They’re going to be brothers for the rest of their lives.” She squeezed. “Maybe the best thing you can do is give them the time to deal with this privately, so they don’t end up losing each other, too.”

* * *

H
ANK
CHECKED
THE
CLOCK
for the third time in ten minutes, then pulled his phone from his pocket yet again to be sure the clock was correct. Yep. Still working. Which meant that Brynn, the queen of promptness and efficiency, was fifteen minutes late for Millie time. Fifteen minutes late and she hadn’t responded to the text he sent at the ten-minute mark.