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

13. Rowan, Rowan, Rowan your boat

13

ROWAN, ROWAN, ROWAN YOUR BOAT

SEBASTIAN

I ’d better not meet that jackass Thane this week because I’m liable to strangle him for interrupting what would have been, undoubtedly, the best first kiss in the history of kisses.

So good, poets would’ve written about it. It would’ve been the kind of kiss that changes the trajectory of my life, and he fucking ruined it with his whining.

The kind of energy I experienced was a full-body ache feeding a growing hunger for Rowan Ellis. It both spurs me on and fucks with my head because if I’m wrong, I could end up hurting my family all over again.

Seren is growing attached already. The boys don’t stop talking about her. And Pappy? Well, he’s as happy as a psychic watching their fortunes come true because this is what he’s wanted since we were kids.

But how do you get a runner to stay?

Closing my eyes, I let my head fall to the porch swing with a dull thud and use my feet to sway in time with the waves breaking on the shore. The calming effect of the ocean hits the second I allow myself to acknowledge it—the gentle waves, the salty air that always feels a bit thicker at night, all of it peaceful without the seagulls of daytime stealing its beauty.

My phone chimes with an incoming text, and I reluctantly open my eyes. A harsh bark of laughter surprises me so much the porch swing crashes into my calves.

The notification reads: Elijah named your group chat Band of merry fucking meddlers.

Opening the text thread, I reply immediately.

Me: Is this a joke?

Elijah: It’s a good name.

Beck: We have a plan.

Elijah: It’ll kill two birds with one stone.

Leo: I’m here for the show, but I set up the cove just in case.

I groan and rub my temples.

Beck: Tell her you need seven more days.

Alexei: Seven days in seven cities.

I’m going to regret this.

Me: What are you talking about?

Beck: At the end of her contract, tell her you need her help winning back seven investors in seven cities.

Elijah: It’s sort of true. And you’ll spend quality time alone with her, while also securing these fuckers Nick was hand-feeding bullshit to.

Me: I’m not sure that’s a good idea. And it’s not even a little bit true. The seven investors we need are all in two cities, and I’m pretty sure she’d never go for it anyway.

Me: Also, it’s a little creepy that you’re all conspiring against her.

Beck: Not against her, for her. We care about her, and we care about you for some reason. There’s a difference.

Me: I’ll think about it.

Beck: Either way, you need to go. The events I’m sending you to will be better suited for a date, but asking Rowan is your decision.

Leo: We’ll all help with the kids while you’re gone.

Fucking perfect. This isn’t exactly what I had envisioned when they said to extend her stay. What happens if she won’t come with me? Would she stay with the kids?

Pocketing my phone, I flop against the porch swing again and attempt to reclaim the calmness the waves had given me moments before.

Rowan’s voice carries out through her open window. I gave her privacy by coming out to sit on the porch, but there wasn’t a chance in hell I was leaving here without her.

I can have compassion for the guy and still hate him for his shit timing. It sounds as though Thane has his hands full with a teenage sister who is seriously fucking with him. I’ll have to get her name and keep her far away from Seren. That’s the last thing I need.

My mind drifts to Seren and Rowan’s conversation from earlier. My daughter confided in her so easily, but she’d never have done that with me. Not because she doesn’t trust me, she does, but because while I can sympathize, I can’t relate to what she’s going through.

It’s as though Rowan was sent here just for us. Perhaps Pappy is on to something with his theories on destiny.

The door opens, and Rowan exits, staring down at her phone with pinched brows and turned-down lips.

“You’re good at your job.”

She screams and jumps into some messed-up version of a karate chop that has her bobbling her phone. I catch it right before it hits the porch.

“What the hell, Sebastian? We’re in the middle of nowhere. You can’t sneak up on people like that! I thought you were a chainsaw murderer here to chop off my fingers and toes one by one while feeding them to the pigs or something.”

“That’s…oddly specific.” I chuckle.

“Some kid told me a crappy story at camp when I was nine. I never went pee in the middle of the night again.”

Taking her hand, I weave it through my arm and head down the stairs, taking it as a win when she doesn’t pull away. “I promise to save you from all the chainsaw murderers.”

She stiffens next to me, and I hold my breath. Is this where she’ll pull away?

“That’s the problem,” she mutters. “I’m not the kind of girl you need to save. I’ve been saving myself for a very long time. It’s all I know.”

I stop walking and take her hands in mine so she can’t escape. I almost chuckle when her clammy palms settle in against mine.

“Are you saying you’re too old to learn new tricks?”

“Are you calling me a dog?”

“No, but I wouldn’t mind collaring you,” I deadpan.

Her expression is priceless—wide-eyed and blushing. I bend at the waist and bring my lips to her ear. “I’m joking, Rowan. Unless you’re into that kind of thing…and then I could be persuaded.” I stand upright, so close her body heat penetrates my armor. “I’m all for trying new things with you.”

My soul is already lighter. This banter, these exchanges with her are so real, so raw. There’s none of the practiced etiquette my father shoved down my throat from the time I could sit at a table or pretenses meant to trick me into love.

Rowan Ellis is the light shining through on my darkest days.

Her cheeks flame a delicious shade of pink before she slaps me in the chest with the back of her hand. I recapture it and begin walking again.

“What’s wrong with you?” She attempts to sound offended, but the tremor in her words gives her away.

“You’re excited by that idea, Rowan, don’t try to deny it. The pulse point in your neck is beating so fast you’d think it was following Dave Grohl’s drum solo, and you blush so prettily I want to trace it with my tongue.”

I feel more than hear her sharp intake of air, and this time, she’s the one to stop so she can poke me in the chest. “I’ve spent the last seventeen years of my life making sure I’m not tied to anyone’s rules, oppressive standards, straight-up lies, or vicious outbursts. I’m not about to start any of those now because of a stupid flutter in my belly.”

Her righteous indignation would hit harder if she didn’t shiver as I run my palms down her biceps. But she’s also given me more than she intended to, and hope blooms in my chest as wild and uncontrollable as the flutter in her belly.

“You get butterflies around me?” My voice is six shades past husky—I want this woman with a passion I can’t control.

“What?” she demands, and her lashes flutter as though her wheels are spinning trying to figure out what she said. Her mouth pops open into a perfect O-shape the moment realization hits. “No, that’s not what I mean. Did you hear anything else that I said?”

Entwining her clammy hand with mine, I lead us down the beach. What will make her tug it away this time? I might be a sick fuck because I love this push and pull with her.

“Oh, I heard you.” I don’t even attempt to mask the lust in my tone, though I do lower my voice. “I heard every word. But if there’s any part of you that thinks I would ever try to contain you, or hurt you, you don’t know me very well.”

She leans in closer.

When my lips reach her ear, I say, “And I know that you know me. So the only thing that matters is that you get butterflies around me. It’s a very good sign.”

“It’s not a sign,” she squeaks.

I hold up our joined hands and tap my thumb against her tattoo. “Sure seems like a sign.”

She tries to tug her hand away, but I lift our joined ones and kiss the back of hers, one knuckle at a time.

She stops struggling to get free. Her gaze is locked on my lips kissing one finger and then the next. I nearly groan when her breaths turn shallow, and her chest rises and falls in short pants. She’s as affected by me as I am her. The difference is, I can admit it—Rowan isn’t there yet.

“I don’t believe in signs,” she huffs. “There’s good luck and there’s bad luck. That’s it.”

“I didn’t believe in signs either, but then you came along.”

“I’m not your sign.”

“That’s not how it works, Peach. You don’t get a say in what my signs are.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re gorgeous. It’s a good thing we’re about to be surrounded by people because my thoughts about you are not rated PG right now.”

Her blush deepens, and she drops her gaze away from mine. “You can’t say that stuff.”

“Sure I can.”

Rowan digs her heels in, and I wait expectantly for her fire to burst free in the dark night.

“You can’t, Sebastian. You know this is temporary.” She twists those black and pink bracelets around her wrist, pausing with every circle to tap her thumb to her tattoo. She doesn’t even appear to notice that it’s become her touchstone—but now it’s clear. She’s always been mine.

“What makes something temporary to you?” I ask, feigning a careless shrug. The merry fucking meddlers’ plan is sounding more and more like a reality.

“Ah, an end date?” Her sarcasm is biting as it passes her lips. “There’s always an end date.”

“Okay. And we have one, so what’s your problem?”

Her gaze shifts to anywhere that’s not me. I’m not sure if she’s searching for an escape or a comeback.

“My problem? It’s not my problem. We set my end date. We put it in writing, and I can’t stay after that.”

I make a tsking sound with my tongue. “Again with the can’t. It’s not that you can’t, Peach. It’s that you won’t.” My brow lifts, daring her to contradict me. “And I’m aware that you have an end date. What I’m asking you to do is give me your now.”

“My now? What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means you give me your todays and your tomorrows. We’ll worry about the rest when we get there.”

“This sounds like a trick.”

That’s because it is, my beautiful Rowan. I smile so sweetly that I know I’ve just invited a handful of cavities into my life, but her frown makes it all worth it. I’d love nothing more than to kiss away the worry line between her brows.

“Today and tomorrow, Peach. And your now starts with a dance. Our first dance.”

“Seb.” She sighs, and I love what that sound does to my battered heart. “We can’t. There are people around, and more importantly, your kids. They’ve been through a traumatic event—you don’t want to confuse them any more than they already are.”

With a sharp tug on her hand, she falls into me. Her body was meant to fit against mine.

“I love that you’re so considerate of my children. They will always be my priority, which is why I’ve already spoken to them.”

“You did what?” she whisper-hisses, and it’s kind of adorable.

“I told them that you’re my friend. And that sometimes friends hug and dance.”

She aggressively pulls away from me to yank her hair into a ponytail and fastens it with a hair thingy she always has around her right wrist. Then she faces me with her hands on her hips, and I can so easily envision her charging me like an angry bull.

“Seren is struggling, you jackass.” The fire that makes her Rowan blazes to life behind shuttered eyes. “She’s hurt that her mother ruined things for her and that she so easily abandoned her. You can’t just fill that space with the next asshole that walks by.”

Irritation prickles my neck, and I stare up at the stars to rein in my wild thoughts before I say something I’ll regret. When I’m sure I can control my tone, I lower my chin to my chest and wait until she meets my eyes.

“You are not a random asshole. And our situation is nothing like your mother and stepfather.”

She stumbles back a step as though my words have physically pushed her. “You know nothing about my life,” she blurts.

I step forward, fueled by her utter lack of self-awareness. “But I do, Rowan.” Our bodies are nearly touching. “I know that whatever your mother did was enough to make you run from everything that could potentially hurt you ever since. I know that your life irrevocably changed the second your stepfather entered your life. I know that you’re, unfortunately, not my children’s mother, and if their mother ever gets her head out of her ass, she’ll be welcome to try and rebuild those relationships. I’ll never stop that from happening unless it’s causing them pain. And I also know that you will never intentionally hurt my children, and if you did, you’d make it right. That’s why our situation is different. You’re not your mother or my ex. You’re so much better than they could ever be.”

“That’s the thing, don’t you understand?” Her voice breaks, and it eats away the volatile feelings of a moment ago. “I’m the result of my mother’s indifference. I wouldn’t mean to hurt them, but it would happen anyway when I inevitably had to leave. It’s why I have an end date, Seb. To protect them, and to protect myself.”

Oh, my beautifully broken, stubborn-ass peach.

“There are no promises or requests for the future here, Peach. Only today and tomorrow, remember?”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“I know.” I take her hand and guide her closer to the beach.

“You know? Then why are you pushing this?”

Because I’m starting to believe in Pappy’s love lines and theories on destiny. Because my heart is telling me that if I can only show her what she means to us, she’ll come back. Because I have no doubt she’ll leave when her end date arrives—it’s all she knows. I can only hope we’ll have made enough of an impression that she’ll return to us.

Lifting her hand to my lips, I kiss her knuckles again. It’s as intimate as she’ll allow right now, but it’s never felt more right.

“I’m pushing because I can’t live with not knowing what it’s like to have you in my life, for however long you’ll allow. If this past year has taught me anything, it’s to live for today, and that’s what I’m doing.”

We reach the clearing between my house and Beck’s, and we both stop, awestruck.

When this town has a sand dance, they don’t mess around. Tent structures have been constructed with wispy flowing panels that sway in the ocean air and fairy lights are strung across anything and everything they could reach. Round tables and chairs are set up at various spots on either side of a dance floor, decorated in shades of navy and aqua and topped with flickering candles.

“Wow,” Rowan whispers. “This is?—”

“Magical.”

“Yeah.” She pulls her hand free from mine. “I mean, if you believe in magic and everything.”

“Row-Row, Row-Row,” Kade sings, spotting us first and running through the middle of the party.

“Is he calling you Row-Row?” I ask.

Her laughter washes away on the sea breeze—it’s a reminder of how fragile this beginning really is. “Yeah, he thinks my name sounds like Row, Row, Row Your Boat . You know, Rowan, Rowan your boat?” When I stare are her, she shrugs. “It sounds funny, and it makes me laugh when he sings it.”

“It must be because you’re rowin’ right into his heart.”

Her jaw drops. “Oh my God,” she says, covering her mouth with both hands. “You did not just dad-joke me.”

I frown at her. “I mean, I am a dad.”

“Row-Row. Come dance. Come dance with me.” Kade drags her forward.

Was I seriously just cock-blocked by my six-year-old?

Rowan appears to read my thoughts. “Guess you need to up your game, old man. Little Kade here could teach you some things.”

I drop my head back and allow the laughter to overtake my entire body. “Challenge accepted, Peach,” I call out loud enough for her to hear me.

She stutter-steps but keeps her balance.

Game on, Rowan Ellis. Game fucking on.

Miles fell asleep in my arms an hour ago. I should carry him to bed as I did with Kade when he fell asleep in Pappy’s lap, but I can’t bring myself to move from this spot. This is the perfect vantage point.

To my right, Seren is sitting on a large piece of driftwood with three other girls who don’t appear to be troublemakers. If I turn my head slightly, I can see Rowan at a table on the other side of the dance floor surrounded by women. They’ve commandeered her for hours, and if her body language didn’t suggest that she was actually enjoying herself, I would have stolen her away a long time ago.

Rowan throws her head back, and her laughter barely touches my ears, but it covers me from head to toe as if she’s my missing piece. She’s mesmerizing. The way her throat works when she swallows. How her hair blows wild and free as if it’s a symbol of the personality she’s adopted. Her eyes crinkle when she smiles, and I swear I can see them sparkle from here as if she’s a real-life toothpaste commercial.

“Daddy?” I roll my head to the side to find Seren peering down at me. I guess my time observing my girls hasn’t been split evenly after all. She stands there with the girls she’s befriended but appears nervous.

“Hey, sweet pea. What’s up?”

I scan each of the girls, and they offer a polite wave. Then each of them steps forward and introduces themselves, referring to me as “sir.”

Welcome to the South, I guess. That never would have happened with her old friends in Boston.

“Um, the girls invited me to the beach tomorrow. Marlo’s mom will be with us,” Seren adds quickly. She really wants me to say yes. The silent plea shines in her eyes and shows when she picks at her fingernail.

I’d give anything to say yes, but I haven’t even met Marlo’s mom yet.

“Marlo’s mom, Jenny, grew up here,” Beck calls across the table. “They’re a good family. They all come from good families.”

He’s vouching for them, for Seren.

I nod in thanks and focus on Seren again. The excitement in her pretty green eyes gives me hope that this was the right move for us all.

“Both Rowan and I will need Jenny’s phone number.”

“Yes, sir,” the three new friends say in unison. A little of the weight that’s been sitting on my chest for months dissipates.

“Okay, then. You can go.”

Seren wraps her hands around my neck and hugs me tight. I blink away the wetness that belies my relief. My little girl is still in there buried under all the hurt.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“Love you too,” she whispers back. “Can I show the girls my new room?”

Emotion dances behind my eyes each time a piece of her old self resurfaces.

“Of course. Kade’s sleeping, and maybe Pappy too, so you’ll need to keep it down.”

She grins, and I stare after them as they run toward the house.

“They really do come from great families. I wouldn’t bullshit over safety,” Beck says, pointing his beer at me.

“I appreciate it.”

The firelight is blocked by what I can only assume is a body. Rolling my head along the back of the Adirondack chair, I find Alexei staring down at Miles with a lazy grin. For a man dead set on not having kids of his own, he certainly loves mine.

How long will he continue to lie to himself?

“Why don’t I carry him to bed,” Alexei suggests. “I’m heading that way already. I’m going to walk Maria back to camp.”

It takes a moment for the name to register. Right, Maria DeLuca, the new camp director.

Oh shit ! Maria DeLuca, the new camp director. That’s a terrible idea.

“Alexei,” I warn.

He rolls his shoulders, then folds at his hips to take Miles from my lap. “I’m walking her home, Seb. Relax. I’ll put him in bed, and you can finally ask a certain nanny to dance.”

My gaze immediately jumps to Rowan’s last known location, and there she is. Staring at me with an easy smile that’s either from the cocktail the women handed her as soon as she sat down. Or maybe it’s something else, something more rewarding—something like peace.

Alexei lifts Miles’s dead weight off me and hefts him up on his shoulder. “He’s getting a little big for this.”

“It happens fast.”

Alexei pats my shoulder and walks toward the house with Maria at his side.

“That could get messy,” Elijah chuckles.

He, Beck, and Leo have been sitting with me for the last couple of hours.

“Only for Leo,” Beck says, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

The party is winding to a close, and it’s now or never if I want to get my dance with Rowan. Finishing the last of my beer, I set it on top of the table. “Gentlemen,” I say with a nod as I stand, and then I stride toward Rowan.

It’s time for our first dance.