Give & Take (Redbeard Cove #2)

3. Lana

Chapter 3

Lana

I f it were literally anyone else, I’d apologize for my girls hitting him in the head with a ball. But it’s not anyone else. So instead, I just say, “It’s you!” Which is a real prize-winning response.

But I don’t know what to say to him. My tongue is in an annoying knot, which is unusual for me. My ex liked to say I had a “barb tucked into my cheek for every occasion.”

His lips quirk up on one side. He’s about to say something, but just then the ball smacks him square in the face, making a fresh, new, and deeply satisfying little doyng! sound. The moment brings me back to myself. I’ll have to buy Chris some flowers.

“Nova!” I say in half-hearted admonishment.

But it’s Aurora who giggles, her little hands on her knees.

I’d like to give her a “good job”, but that would negate the manners I’m trying to teach her .

The guy picks up the ball. “I’ll be right back,” he says, then does that sad excuse for a roar and sprints after them before I can say anything.

The girls flee before I can stop them, laughing and spraying sand everywhere.

I’m about to call out when I hear my name.

“Lana!”

I turn to see my friend Shelby waving madly from her beach chair. She’d been blocked by the spectators. Next to her is her friend Deanie, from Vancouver. Both women are heavily pregnant.

I look over my shoulder at my kids, hesitating.

“It’s okay, we know him,” Shelby calls over the resumed sounds of the beach. Kids squealing. A boombox thudding.

“Unfortunately!” Deanie chimes in.

I’m deeply confused, but down by the water, Nova’s got the ball, and she’s chasing the guy around with it over her head while he runs in figure-eights.

I head over, bare feet sliding in the hot sand, and give each woman a hug. “How—?” I ask, confused.

“That’s Raphael,” Deanie says. “And I swear sometimes he didn’t mature past ten.”

Finally understanding clicks. “That’s your brother !” I’m unable to hide my astonishment. Shelby mentioned Deanie visiting expressly to give her younger brother something to do. He was not what I’d been picturing.

“Yup,” Deanie says.

I stare at the man chasing my kids around, feeling all kinds of conflicted. He looks over at me and shrugs, as if in apology for not coming back as promised. I give a tight nod, since the girls are screaming at him to chase them.

“I thought he was a college student?” I ask. I hadn’t given him much thought, but Shelby mentioned he drove Deanie up the wall. I’d been picturing an eighteen-year old kid trying to get his big sister to buy him beer.

“Grad student,” Deanie says. “He’s doing his doctorate in English Lit. Don’t ask me why.”

Shelby shifts her legs aside and pats the end of her chair.

I sit down, digesting this new information. “Oh.”

“Do you…know him or something?” Deanie asks. She gives me an apologetic look. “Was he talking to you? He talks to everyone. He’d talk to a rock if it gave him the time of day.”

“Something like that,” I say, still distracted by how enamored my kids are by him. He runs backwards, moving with the grace of an athlete, his long, lean form hopping easily over a piece of driftwood.

“Wait, Lana,” Shelby says, putting two and two together. “Is he the guy from the concession stand? The d?—”

“He was being…” I don’t want to tell her that her brother was hitting on me, do I?

“…an ass at the concession stand,” Shelby finishes for me.

Right.

“What?” Deanie exclaims. “I’m so sorry!” She looks shocked. And confused. “Although…I’ve never once seen him be rude. The opposite, actually.” Her brows furrow. “What happened? ”

I hesitate. What did happen? He was…admiring me. He apologized. He wasn’t exactly being lascivious. Did I overreact?

“Nothing,” I say. “He caught me off-guard, that’s all.”

Shelby opens her mouth but I give a quick shake of my head. It doesn’t matter. Besides, watching my girls’ gleeful expressions, I realize with some level of guilt that my kids haven’t had this much fun in a very, very long time.

“He does seem to know how to play with my kids better than I do,” I say.

“Well, you’re busy doing all the ‘keeping everyone alive’ stuff,” Shelby says. “It’s hard finding energy after that.”

Shelby’s a good friend. Though I’ve only known her a year, since she moved to Redbeard Cove, I consider her, along with Chris, my closest friends.

Still, the mom-guilt remains. The feeling of doing every last little thing for my kids—and still not doing enough.

“I guess,” I say, smiling as best I can. “How long are you guys here for?” I ask Deanie, wanting to shift the attention from me.

“Just for the weekend.” Her brow still has a little wrinkle of concern in it.

“Too short,” I say, even though my internal response is: Thank God. I like Deanie, but the sooner I can get away from her brother the better.

Deanie’s still troubled by whatever she thinks our interaction was. “Lana, he’s an idiot, but I promise he’s harmless.” Not when it comes to unnerving me. Or making heat flush to every single damn part of my body. “He pretty much raised our little brothers,” she adds.

My eyebrows lift, which she takes as me being curious. Which, I guess I am.

“Our dad had four of them with our stepmother after he left Mom,” she says. “They’re all teenagers now, but when they were little, Dad was a workaholic and never around, and his wife couldn’t care less.”

“Wow.” My stomach turns at the idea of Mike going off and having four children with someone new now. I don’t harbor any feelings for my ex anymore—at all —but it’s still rough. I feel a sudden wash of sympathy for Raphael’s mother. And those boys.

But for Raphael to have stepped in at what, twelve? Fourteen? I don’t like this new information. All of it clashes with what I’ve already pegged him as—an irresponsible rake.

I read too many historical romance books.

I only realize I’m staring at him once again because he looks up. This time, his eyes meet mine. And of all things, he has the audacity to wink.

I suck in a breath as my stomach has the equal audacity to do a little flip.

“You okay?” Shelby asks me. Neither of them saw. My stomach feels like an occupied clown car. “Fine. It’s just nice to see the girls having fun.”

I feel something cold against my fingers and see Deanie’s handing me a cold can of sparkling water, a soft smile on her face. My attention comes back to these women, who’re looking at me with concern. They’re both being so nice to me, after I came over here filled with bitchy energy.

But apparently all it takes is a little kindness for the door to the overstuffed closet of my feelings and stress I’ve been holding shut to crack open. I press the cold can between my palms. At the concession stand it was easy to funnel those feelings into anger. Now? I swallow down the sudden thickness in my throat.

“Lana,” Shelby says. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

I can put on a game face while waiting tables no matter what’s going on. But to people who know me? I’m like an open book. I hate it. I turn my face away, feeling the prick of imminent tears. “I’m just a little stressed, that’s all. Summer’s just started and everything is still a hot mess.”

“Is it Mike? Her ex is being a dick,” Shelby explains to Deanie.

I press the can of water to the back of my neck to try to cool my embarrassment at nearly crying at the beach. Even though my ex is a deep source of stress for me, it’s not really even him that’s the hardest part. It’s doing all of this—everything—on my own. “Mike’s just the cherry on top,” I say. “It’s actually the nanny thing that’s kicking my butt.”

Shelby gapes. “You still haven’t found anyone?”

I shake my head. “It’s almost comical at this point.” So funny I could cry. My long-term nanny moved away unexpectedly last month. Every last one of us had been devastated, mostly because we loved her, but me especially. I was sure she’d be with us until the kids outgrew her. But not being able to find childcare has thrown my single-mom status into sharp relief.

“What about those summer day camp things?” Deanie asks.

“You have to apply to those months in advance,” Shelby answers for me. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation.

“The summer before, unfortunately,” I say. “There’s only one up here.”

“But I keep telling you I’d be happy to pitch in,” Shelby continues. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“Not a chance.” I set the bubbly water down. “You’re supposed to be resting up.”

Shelby runs her own company, and her doctor told her she had to stop work earlier than planned. Something about blood pressure. Shelby rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t argue.

“Besides, your husband has been very accommodating,” I remind her. Mac flat out said “No,” when I told him I’d understand if he wanted to let me go since I’ve had to take a leave since school let out.

I sigh, taking my hat off and running my hand over my hair. “I just really thought I’d have this sorted before school was over.”

“Raph could do it,” Deanie says.

Shelby and I both laugh.

Deanie doesn’t. “I’m serious. Look at him!”

I follow Deanie’s gaze to her brother and my girls. The three of them have now shifted to building some kind of sloppy wet sandcastle. He says something that makes both girls howl with laughter.

“He does have the experience,” Shelby says.

I gape. “Shelby!”

“Oh my God, Lana, it’s perfect!” Deanie says. “He’s completely insufferable, but that’s only because I’m his sister. You get a babysitter, I get him out of my hair for the rest of the summer. Win-win!”

I’ve stopped laughing. “Deanie, that’s so kind of you to think of someone for me, but it’s a long-term position.”

Shelby pinches her lips between her teeth. She’s heard me say I’d be thrilled to have someone just for the summer. That with Aurora going to Kindergarten in the fall, I could manage without a full-time nanny by September.

I throw her a death glare.

“So he’ll buy you some time,” Deanie says.

“It’s live-in.”

“Perfect. He’s homeless!”

I widen my eyes.

She holds up her hands. “I just mean he gave up his apartment in California to spend the summer with me. And he’d have to find a place to stay up here for the summer if he stayed anyway.” She frowns. “Is there a problem with him being a guy? Because I get it, if that’s the case. But I’m fully going to sic my baby on him when he’s born. He’s trustworthy. An idiot, but trustworthy.”

“He’s also…” I hesitate, not wanting to slander her brother in front of her. “A young man. Who probably has a very active social life.” I picture seeing her brother pa rading through the house— my house—with a string of beautiful young women? No thank you.

“He’s not like that,” Deanie says. She sounds mildly upset I’d think that.

I badly want to tell her that he absolutely is like that—I saw it with my own eyes.

But as if reading my mind, Deanie concedes, “He’s charming, yes, but he’s respectful. To a fault. Please, Lana. Just consider hiring Raphael. That’s all I ask.”

I want to laugh with how ridiculous this is. But the way she’s pushing this, like this is actually something I’d consider, is too much. How do I say this delicately? I clear my throat. I was a lawyer, in my past life. I’ve said plenty of difficult things. I say them all the time at work when I need to get drunk people to behave themselves.

In the end, I settle on a firm but gentle, “No.”

“What?” Deanie looks crestfallen. “Why?”

“Because she caught me checking out her ass,” a male voice says.

I whip around. Raphael’s standing a few feet away. In earshot, but out of our direct line of sight. How long has he been standing there? And where are my?—

I jump to my feet, looking frantically down the beach. “Where—” I begin.

Then I see them, clinging to Chris, who made it down here after all. She gives us a wave, but the girls tug on her hands, wanting her to see their castle.

Deanie’s jaw hangs open. “Jesus, Raph, seriously?” She throws her arms up in the air.

“I’m going to go say hi,” Shelby says. When she struggles to get up, Raphael gives her a hand, easing her off her chair without a second thought in a way that makes my insides tighten, and not just because of the way his whole body flexed and he didn’t even crack a sweat.

“I’ll join you,” I say, my voice slightly parched.

“Wait,” Raphael says to me.

I’ve turned to walk away, but Raphael reaches his hand out to halt my movement.

It’s a light touch—just the soft graze of fingers on the underside of my forearm, which is extended back toward him. But I freeze as his touch glides down my still-moving arm toward my wrist. His skin is warm, but nothing compared to the heat that radiates through me where his fingertips meet mine. It’s like being touched by a live wire. I drag in a breath as a shock of exquisite awareness travels across my skin, making each of my thousands of nerve endings come to attention. The sensation schisms through me, raising my skin up in delicious and alarming gooseflesh.

I’m so stunned by this all I can do is stare at where his fingers curve gently against my wrist. When I snap my gaze up to his, his eyes are there too, like he’s as shocked as I am. He drops his hand.

“Sorry,” he says, his eyes wide, his expression alarmed. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look not quite so self-assured. Did he feel it too?

Even though he’s not touching me anymore, I jerk my arm away like I’ve been burned. Honestly, it feels exactly like I have.

Shelby didn’t hear me. She’s already halfway down to Chris and the girls. Deanie, meanwhile, stands up, doing just fine on her own. “It’s like you want to sabotage yourself,” she says to her brother. “Mom raised you better than that.”

“It’s fine,” I say. I step sideways to go, desperate to leave these two, but most especially Raphael, whose presence is searing raw heat into my side.

But of course, he’s moved, and somehow this only takes me right up into Raphael’s space.

This is a mistake. He’s very close. I can feel the heat from his skin close. He’s so tall I’m eye level with the leaf pendant that hangs at his chest. It’s gold and beautifully rendered with several lobes like an oak leaf, only each grows smaller toward the tip.

And my brain—my idiotic, perverted, sex-starved (apparently) brain wonders what that leaf would look like swinging over me as he?—

I blink, taking a deep breath, which of course is only of his scent: salt water and a trace of something woodsy. Soap or cologne—whatever it is it makes me dizzy. He makes me dizzy. And insane.

“I’m over it,” I croak, my dignity feeling like a sapling in a strong wind.

“I’m not,” Raphael says. “Even though you probably never want to see me again, I’m Raphael. We never properly met. And I am sorry. But Lana…”

How does he know my name? The kids, probably. Chris. Who knows. Who cares.

“Yes?” I say stiffly.

I force myself to look up. This close, his eyes are stunning. Amber irises with a dark brown rim. Fuck. I should look down. I want to, so badly, but the way he’s looking at me—a heat I’ve either forgotten about or never known at all coils in my belly, radiating out in bad, dangerous ways.

Raphael looks over at his sister, then tucks his chin and bends down. He leans into my ear, not touching me, but so close I feel like melting candle wax where our bodies align.

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

His face is just close enough to my ear that he barely has to whisper, even over the din of the beach. “But I won’t apologize for thinking you’re beautiful. Because you’re beautiful, Lana.”