Late Nights & Love Lines (Single Dad Hotline #2)

4. Love lines are just mixed signals

4

LOVE LINES ARE JUST MIXED SIGNALS

ROWAN

“ Y ou look good, kid. It’s been too long.” The emotion in Pappy’s voice tugs at those heartstrings I’ve spent years trying to cauterize, so I stare straight ahead and focus on the waves as they lap at the shore. Sebastian and the boys headed back to the house, so it’s just Pappy and me out here now.

We talk a few times a year, mostly on our birthdays, plus he calls me on March twenty-second—the date is a reminder that my family will never hurt me again. When my stepfather pulled me out of camp that last summer, I secretly sent Pappy letters to stay in touch. We switched to phones once I turned eighteen and finally had access to a phone. But lately, he’s been calling more often, and it’s unnerving to me.

Pappy is as close to family as I’ve ever had, but even he’s kept at arm’s length, just in case.

The last time I saw him in person, not on FaceTime, was at my college graduation—May twenty-second. I hadn’t invited him, but like every other major event, he presided over it as my stoic guardian. He took me out to dinner that night, and it was the last time I ever let him see me cry.

I’d told him that Jake and I weren’t together anymore, but not why we’d split up. So when I refused his offer to drive me home, he reluctantly took me to the parking lot where Junebug was waiting—and he learned another of my secrets.

The next day, he signed a lease for my first solo apartment. It’s the only time he’s ever been harsh with me. He hadn’t known I was living in my Jeep again until he dropped me off, but my scholarship only covered so much, and I learned early in life not to ask anyone for anything.

And it’s not as though I was unsafe. I rented a parking spot in a lot near the police station and spent all my time in the library anyway.

I was good.

I always am.

But Pappy was heartbroken and said his wife was rolling over in her grave. The memory of Rosa he evoked was what had me relenting to the apartment. It wasn’t until he’d left to go home that I found out he’d prepaid the year’s rent.

It allowed me to save for my future. He gave me a leg up in life—again, after a lifetime of sinking in quicksand. My attempts to repay him sit in uncashed checks somewhere in his house.

“Free spirit, remember?” I say, bumping his shoulder with mine, but his frame is frailer than I remember, and it makes my lungs burn with the need for more air. Avoiding those feelings, I take a picture of the ocean, knowing it’ll look perfect on my Instagram feed in black and white.

He grunts, leaning back on the bench we’re sitting on, then reaches over and picks a piece of grass from the dunes.

“Pappy?” I wait until he turns his attention toward me. “Did you do this?” I say, waving my hand in the air. What I really want to ask is why? Why did you do this? But I’m too afraid of his answer.

His eyes crinkle, but his features don’t change all that much.

“Do what, exactly?” he asks with an easy drawl.

A familiar pang swirls in my gut. It’s the same feeling I had when I learned about the apartment.

“All of this. Arrange this so we’d all, I don’t know, be on the same path? I don’t understand.”

“Your skepticism has gotten you through life, Row, but you can let down your guard around me. I’ve always tried to keep an eye on you, but you’re too stubborn for your own damn good sometimes.”

He scratches at his head exactly as Sebastian had done earlier.

“Grams used to say that true love is the crossword puzzle of life.” His eyes sparkle and shine. They always do whenever he mentions Rosa. “Your stories cross paths and intersect until that one moment in time, when all the stars align and you become the pieces completing both of your puzzles.”

“Pappy,” I whisper. How can those words make my throat close up? “You cannot seriously be talking about your grandson and me.”

He sits there, staring expectantly. “You were friends once—good friends.”

Were we? That’s not exactly how I remember it. I always felt like more of an obligation for him because my dad worked for his grandmother.

“He’s older than me.” By two whole years. It’s a weak excuse, so I swallow hard and try again. “He’s some nasty caviar to my generic saltines.”

“You think Seb’s nasty?” Pappy chuckles because he knows that’s not at all how I’d describe Sebastian Walker—not when I was ten, and not now. I’ve probably had giant hearts in my eyes since I was eight.

Sebastian always protected me.

“No, that’s not…please tell me if you had a plan here.”

He rests his hands on his little potbelly and leans back. “I told you, he’s going through a tough time.”

During our last conversation, he told me that Sebastian’s wife had cheated on him, and I shiver remembering the specifics of how they all found out.

His sigh is bone-deep. “Yes, I did know you were working for the hotline. And I met Elijah about six months ago when he came to the house to meet with Seb. That’s when Elijah told him about the hotline—that’s fate’s doing, not mine. And as far as putting you in his path? Nah, that’s destiny, kiddo. Elijah told me, even when I asked about you, that his sister took her matches seriously, and would only place you with Seb if your questionnaires aligned.”

He chuckles and chews on the piece of grass, so I’m sure there’s more to it than that.

“I could have saved her a lot of time. You can’t mess with the stars, Rowan. Your path was always going to collide with ours.” He pulls me into his side and places a kiss on top of my head. “You can’t run forever, sweetheart.”

Watch me. Watch me. Watch me.

“Every instinct you possess is begging you to run,” he says against my hair, “but for me, please stay. I won’t ask you to stay forever, but stay for now, for me.”

This man has never once asked me for anything and has given me more than I probably even know. How can I say no to him?

Instead of answering, I curl into his embrace and count to five. Anything longer than five seconds will make those love lines I actively avoid sprout roots—a girl can only bob and weave for so long before she goes down.

“Thane,” I groan. He’s the most annoying hotline dad I have at the moment, but I lower myself with a thud to sit on the top step of the beach estate Sebastian is calling home. Not a second later, Lucky pops out of nowhere and slinks into my lap.

Freaking hell. I attempt to shove him off me, but he digs his claws into my thighs, and I give up. I’m supposed to be at the bonfire, but Thane’s fourth emergency of the day saved me from having to be social.

“She’s a teenager.” I sigh. It takes a lot of effort to keep the exasperation out of my tone. “I’m not at all surprised she doesn’t want to give up her devices and spend a week in the woods, but I promise she’ll make the best of it when she gets here.”

I need to find this guy a permanent helper. He’s recently taken custody of his little sister and things are…strained, and I don’t foresee that changing anytime soon.

“I’m going to throw every device she owns into the ocean.” The words are angry, but his tone is almost sterile.

“That is not advisable—it’s not that much longer. Do your best until camp starts, then she can go through withdrawals with all the other kids.”

“Fine. Will Lottie be there?”

It’s not the first time he’s asked about my friend, and I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a hint of a crush blossoming, but I wasn’t aware that they even knew each other.

“She will. Is there anything else I can help you with tonight?”

He mutters something about deciphering my tone under his breath, but I’ve never been able to get a read on his emotions either.

“No. If you’re sure I can’t remove her bedroom door the next time she slams it, I’ve got nothing.” His words are stilted, but somewhere in there is a man trying to do right by his teenage sister, so I keep my voice light.

“She’ll come around. She’s hurting and feels betrayed by your father. Be consistent with her and you’ll be just fine.”

“You’re the expert here, Rowan, so you’d better be right. Talk to you later.” A low hum vibrates through the phone, so I wait. “Thank you,” he adds as an afterthought. I’m not sure what it is, but general manners seem to be a lot of work for him.

“You’ve got this,” I say, distracted as awareness rakes over my body. The sensation of being watched usually kicks my fight-or-flight into high gear, but this—here—is different. A footstep lands on the porch behind me, but I don’t turn around.

“You keep saying that,” Thane mutters, and while I’d guess that he’s hurting as much as his sister, there’s no pitch change to indicate how he’s feeling. “But I’ll believe it when we get through this…whatever this is.”

He hangs up without a goodbye, so I pocket my phone. Thane Wilder is trying so hard to be what his sister needs, but there are times when I wonder if he truly has no idea how emotions work.

“You’ve found a friend.”

Sebastian’s voice swirls and zings through my body, electrifying every inch of skin his words touch. The awareness from moments ago wraps around my body with the comfort of a weighted blanket. It must be his tone, right? It’s soothing, in a strange sort of way. It’s not familiar because when we knew each other, he was still a boy.

Tilting my head up, I find him looming over me. When he sits next to me on the step, a tad too close, I press myself into the railing. He takes up all the extra space because he’s all man now—well over six feet tall and broad enough to pass for a football player.

“The cat isn’t giving me a choice. I think he’s following me too.”

Sebastian laughs, and it warms all the dark corners of my soul.

“It’s not funny,” I grumble. “Black cats are bad luck. I can’t be inviting more of it into my life.” Even as I say it, I scratch the little jerk behind the ears, and he purrs. I swear he’s gloating.

“Why the hotline?”

“Variety’s the spice of life.” Little white lies like this were the first survival skill I learned. It’s also why I keep my promises when I make them—if I can’t keep it, I won’t make it.

He nods and holds out a bottle of beer in my direction. My hand is halfway to his before I pull back, hesitant to drink. Am I technically on the job right now?

“You’re not on the clock twenty-four-seven,” he confirms. “I figured we could both use one. I did speak to my grandfather, you know.”

I nod. “Me too.”

“He swears it’s all some cosmic twist of fate or something.”

A very unladylike snorts escapes, and I’m glad I hadn’t taken a drink yet. “I had no idea that nannies were fated.”

His lips twitch, and he doesn’t break eye contact, but it’s not as unnerving as it should be. There’s familiarity in the way he stares at me that stirs up long-forgotten dreams. When he raises a brow in silent question, I blink multiple times, forcing those old dreams back under the rug where they belong.

“That old man’s been telling me about you for over twenty years, but in my head, you were still the saddest little girl I’d ever met. It’s…” He takes a long pull from his beer, never releases me from his searing gaze. “It’s disorienting.”

I use fake laughter and stare out over the dunes to break the visual connection that tells me he sees too much—he always did.

“I haven’t been that little girl in a very long time.”

“No.” The low, gravelly nature of his tone has me peering up through my lashes. His gaze bores into my soul as if he can not only see all my broken pieces, but feels them as viscerally as I do. “You’re not.”

His hand cuts through the night, coming at me in slow motion. “You’ve got…” His palm cups my face, and I hope to God that mewling sound came from Lucky and not me. His thumb brushes across my cheekbone three times, back and forth, before pulling away.

Holding up his thumb for me to inspect, he says, “Sorry, you had an eyelash.”

I grab his wrist before he can pull away, and his pupils dilate. “Ah, I have to make a wish. It’s good luck.”

He swallows roughly, then nods as I lean forward until my lips are almost to his thumb. Allowing my lashes to flutter closed, I blow.

A wish never even entered my mind.

Heat gathers and swirls in my belly when I open my eyes. “Good luck,” I repeat. His stare is hazy and unfocused as he licks his lips.

Good lord, what were we talking about? “Um, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard as much about you as you have of me.” We need to steer back to a safe topic, and Pappy is as safe as they come. I take a quick sip of beer, hoping the effects of alcohol will settle whatever inappropriateness this man is pulling from me.

Sebastian’s only being friendly, I remind myself. It’s because I’m doing him a favor. The thought helps fuse those frayed edges back in place.

He leans back as though my words surprise him.

“What? You didn’t think Pappy’s storytelling was one-sided, did you?” A genuine smile pulls at my lips—my confidence returning with some space between us.

“No, we were friends once, so it makes sense.”

Friends . There’s that word again.

“I was just…remembering something Pappy said.” He stares too intently at me, and my cheeks flush hot. “You only talk to him a few times a year because you hate talking on the phone, but you’re a hotline helper by trade. You literally make a living on the phone.”

I don’t miss how his gaze follows my skin when I stretch my legs out in front of me. My denim cutoff shorts that I love now expose too much. “Do you always say what’s on your mind?”

Seb nods. “And I always say what I mean.”

“Huh. You’re a novelty then.” Lucky flops off my lap and takes his sweet-ass time crossing the porch to jump into a chair.

“And you’re a masterful avoider, but it’s okay. Pappy isn’t the only one in the family who can get people to spill their secrets.” He winks and heat instantly creeps up my neck.

“There’s really nothing to say. The hotline is impersonal, easy, there are rules.”

His chuckle ripples through my body like a wave hitting the shore. “How’d those rules work out for Beck and Stella?”

I know through Elijah, who’s friends with both Beck and Stella, that they had a little helping hand in falling in love via the hotline—the helper being Elijah.

“There’s always the exception to the rule. More than one now, I guess. Lottie’s very good with her permanent matches, but I am the rule—I’m temporary.”

Silence descends, and try as I might, I can’t keep my gaze from sliding to his. A shiver rolls through my body when I find him already staring at me.

“That sounds…lonely.”

I lift one shoulder. “People can be lonely in a room full of people or sleeping next to someone they love. Being intentionally alone means nothing else can hurt you.”

Fuck. What am I doing? Stop talking, Rowan . Keep that shit in your head. Biting my tongue, I focus my attention on the quiet waves as they roll in and out.

The moon casts a long streak of white across the dark expanse of water, and I love that too—one streak of light in an otherwise dark world.

“Nothing else, or no one else?” His voice is thick, as though my words have struck a nerve.

“Same thing, isn’t it?” The salty air licks my skin as a breeze kicks up, and I wrap my arms around my knees to ward off a chill.

“I’m not so sure,” he replies, then finishes his beer with one gulp. “I do know my divorce was finalized months ago, but I still hate my ex-wife, my ex-best friend, and myself. But none of that means I want to be alone forever.”

He’s so open, too open, and I’m not as unaffected as I’m pretending to be.

“She cheated?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Something about Sebastian Walker makes me want to be someone he confides in.

He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and nods. “We all caught her at Seren’s school recital with my best friend—who’s now trying to blackmail me or threatening to sell his shares of the company my grandmother built from nothing to my biggest rival in the industry.”

This poor family. The boiling heat of hatred swirls in my gut on his behalf. “That’s on them, though. You’re not responsible for other people’s actions, Sebastian.”

“No, I’m not. But I also didn’t do anything when I felt lonely sleeping next to someone I vowed to love, so I do have some culpability.”

How did this conversation spiral into something that’s too personal, too intimate, too…everything?

“You, ah, you really are an open book, huh?” I welcome the cold that slips down my throat when I chug my beer.

Seb runs both hands through his hair, the action harsh and at odds with the man I imagine he’s become. His arm brushes against mine with the movement, scorching my skin with his flame. But it’s not that pain that jolts me to life—it’s electricity, and lightning, and bombs in the night.

I stand quickly, and he peers up at me with a crooked grin that reminds me of the sweet twelve-year-old boy who’d check on me every time I’d try to hide.

“No one has ever called me an open book before.” His whisper is a seduction I can’t fall victim to. “Quite the opposite, actually. Maybe it’s you who has some of Pappy’s magic.”

I swallow, and it might as well be cement going down.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.” He sighs, and it’s as though all his confidence expels from his body with each heavy exhale. “But it’s good that you know. It all came to a head at Seren’s recital, and she’s so full of rage because of it. I can’t even get her to touch the piano since, so that’s actually why I’m here. I wanted to thank you for playing with her earlier. I—I haven’t been able to reach her. She’s completely closed herself off.”

He stands a step below me, and it puts us so close that his scent envelops me—clean laundry, peppermint, and something so manly it causes me to lick my dry lips. Even though my inner self is screaming into the silence, begging me to step back, my legs refuse to put space between us.

“She’s very talented, but she probably needs some time. Music is in her soul. She’ll come around.”

He tilts his head, and I can read the questions in his eyes. He wants to know why I don’t play anymore, but that answer is a bit more complicated.

My hand lands on his biceps, and I’m so shocked, I stare at the connection for a beat too long before snatching it away. “Sorry. Um, I’m happy to help. We’ll find you a permanent solution when all the nannies get here.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but we’re interrupted by a loud popping sound, and before I can blink, we’re both covered in a thick, white, milky solution that smells like shaving cream.

Spluttering, we look up to find remnants of water balloons tacked to the roof of the porch. My gaze follows the rope I’ve only now noticed that’s hanging on a Command hook. She must have used it to somehow pop the balloons. It leads to a giant bush that’s already shaking, followed by the sounds of footsteps racing away from the scene of the crime.

“Are there other kids at camp already?” he asks, swiping a hand over his face.

I shake my head while wiping the goop from my eyes.

“Miles wouldn’t do this, and Kade is too young. What the hell was Seren thinking?” His voice booms into the night even as he lifts the hem of his T-shirt to clear his eyes.

Dang. This man has never heard the term Dad-bod—I’d bet Junebug on it.

Before I can reply, a belly laugh overtakes me. “It’s a harmless prank. I did much worse when my life was turned upside down.”

I’d gone the self-destructive path. At least she’s acting out in a way that’s not harmful.

He paces the small porch while wiping angrily at his face. The muscles in his bare forearms bunch and jump with the movement, making my belly clench and nerve endings throb.

“This is so fucking disrespectful. It’s unlike her and completely unacceptable. I’ll speak to her.”

Regardless of what he says, my body responds when he speaks, and I shiver.

Again, I reach out to stop him, then stuff my hands into my pockets. I really need to get a grip on my limbs. I haven’t spent a lifetime avoiding people to have it all crash to hell now. “It’s okay, really. Trust me when I say I can handle this. I can almost guarantee this was for me. She had no way of knowing you’d be out here tonight since you’re supposed to be at the bonfire, but when I dropped my stuff off earlier, I mentioned that I’d love to sit on the porch and listen to the ocean.”

“That makes it even worse,” he thunders.

I point my thumbs at my chest. “I’m a professional, remember? I’ve got this.”

His gaze follows my thumbs. What the heck am I doing? I basically drew him a giant arrow pointing at how my nipples are pressed against the wet fabric of my T-shirt.

“It won’t happen again,” he rumbles. The tension in his jaw flicks as he blinks hard.

I appreciate that he’s attempting not to stare at my boobs even as a secret part of me wishes he would.

I simply shake my head, cross my arms over my chest, and focus on the real issue here—project Seren just took a whole different turn. “It’s fine, really. I can handle Seren. But I’m going to, ah, get my stuff and clean up.”

“Of course, yeah.” He moves left when I move right. Seb steps right and I shift left and then it happens.

Our feet hit a slippery patch of goo, and before I can do anything, our limbs are flailing as though we’re in some stupid romantic comedy.

His hands grasp my hips tightly and he spins us right before we hit the porch with a hard thud that knocks the air from my lungs. Well, Seb hits the porch. I land on top of him.

He lifts his head, his expression worried, and time stands still. Our faces are an inch apart. He exhales, and I breathe him in greedily. Sharing air has never felt so intimate before.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

He brushes a wet strand of hair from my face. “Me too.” His voice is soft as his thumb slides over my chin and across my bottom lip.

My heartbeat grows claws. Each rapid thud against my chest cavity slices through years of walls.

“Je-sus. What the hell happened here?”

The voice comes out of nowhere, and I scramble to my feet—or attempt to. Our limbs seem to fuse closer together the harder we fight to break apart. Leo and another man stand at the bottom of the steps, surveying this mess.

“Stop.” Sebastian growls low in my ear, and once again, my body obeys his command.

His hands fall to my hips, then he lifts me over his body as though I weigh nothing and places me on my ass beside him. He stands before I’ve even blinked, then his big hands wrap around mine and he lifts me up.

“So, it’s like that, is it?” Leo says with a chuckle. “Someone’s going to have their hands full this week.” He steps closer—not enough to be inappropriate, just near enough to study my face in the moonlight. “Are you okay? Your face is really red. Did you hit your head?” He glances over my shoulder at Seb, then back to me.

“Did you get hurt?” Seb growls.

“No, I’m fine. Really. I’m, ah, going to take a shower. Alone. I mean, of course alone. It’s fine, really. I’m good. I can handle anything Seren throws at me. I’m good with kids. Really good. She’s only lashing out because everything in her life feels unstable. I’ve got this. I said that already.”

Shut up, Rowan. Close your mouth and stop talking!

The other man doubles over with laughter.

“Shut up, Alexei,” Seb mutters.

Snapping my jaw shut, I give an awkward wave and rush into the house to grab my shower caddy and some clothes.

Twenty days. That’s all I have left before everything goes back to normal. Twenty days. Easy peasy, right?

For the first time in years, I allow myself to believe in a lie.