Smitten with the Single Dad (The Single Dads of San Camanez: The Brew Brothers #3)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Wyatt was told to take it easy, which was not easy at all.

He never liked sitting still, which was hilarious considering that he was a scout sniper with the marines. He could sit still for hours waiting for his mark and had patience in droves—when it came to the job. But when it came to his personal life, he was absolute shit at it.

Justine came by every day to check on him and every day she said the same thing, “Take it easy. Rest is best. Don’t over do it. Your body needs to heal.”

He knew she was right, but fuck, by day three, when she walked through his front door all he wanted to do was throw pillows at her and tell her to fuck right off and never come back.

Things also felt off with Vica.

Thankfully, Gabrielle had worked her magic and been able to keep the cops from coming and arresting Vica, but she said she couldn’t hold them off forever. They were compiling evidence and eventually, even if it was all fabricated, they had power and money behind them and they’d try to remove her from Wyatt’s protection. Not that he could protect her much given his current invalid state.

That was just another reason why he was fucking miserable.

It was Thursday and he was finally feeling well enough to move around the house a bit. Wyatt wasn’t sure he was grateful to Jagger for taking his sons out of the house for the last two days and keeping them busy so Wyatt could rest. Wyatt hadn’t had this many days off from work in a row in a long time and the parent guilt settled in deep at the thought of not spending those days with his children.

But he also needed to rest.

Vica was in an odd mood, too, which didn’t help. She seemed distant and refused to share his bed with him. They of course, hadn’t been intimate since their wedding night and he missed her.

So on Thursday when he swung his legs over the side of the bed and didn’t feel that immediate pinch in his spine like he had the days before, he knew today was going to be different.

The boys were still home, and Wyatt was determined to spend breakfast with them. His movements were slow, and he made sure to move his body, not his neck, in order to not aggravate the whiplash.

“So this is an Italian breakfast?” Jake asked.

“ Si ,” Vica said, just as Wyatt came around the corner into the kitchen. “ Buongiorno .” She gave him a small, friendly smile, then refocused her attention on the boys who sat at the table with an enormous spread in front of them. “We believe that the best way to start your day and make sure it is a good day is with a healthy breakfast. Fresh squeezed orange juice, bread and jam, or yogurt and berries.” She placed a big bowl on the table, full of mixed berries—strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries.

“And you made this bread?” Griffon asked, ripping into a piece with his teeth like an animal. “It’s amazing.”

Ruffling Griffon’s hair as she passed behind him, she went nodded. “ Si . In the restaurant yesterday.” Bringing her coffee with her to the table, she addressed Jake. “Jake, do you like it?”

“ Si ,” he said, beaming.

She chuckled. “Wyatt, can I get you a coffee? ”

“I can get it,” he said, feeling out of place in his own kitchen. It was weird. The kitchen was his sanctum sanctorum and yet, he hadn’t been in his own home kitchen, or the one in the restaurant, in days. And now, Vica was preparing breakfast for his kids, baking, and offering to make him coffee. Yes, she was technically his wife, but … she was temporary. Right?

His movements remained slow, but he went to the coffee maker and poured himself a mug. He hadn’t had any coffee since he came home from the hospital and the smell of it as it hit his nostrils nearly brought him to tears.

“Uncle Clint and Brooke are taking us all to the beach today,” Jake said. “But first they said we can go to the dock to feed the seal since it’s not a weekend and shouldn’t be too busy.”

“That sounds like fun,” Wyatt said, joining them back at the table and gingerly taking a seat.

“One of the docks has a tame seal,” Griffon started. “You can buy dead fish to throw in the water for him. It’s really cool. But it’s always so busy there with tourists that it’s tough to get close enough to see. Dumb adults stand in front of short kids.” He frowned. “Don’t they know we haven’t grown tall enough yet?”

Chuckling, Vica scooped some vanilla yogurt and berries into a bowl. “Well, I will have to visit this dock and this seal when things are safe.”

“On a weekday,” Griffon added. “So you’re not dealing with annoying tourists.”

“Annoying tourists and their money are what keep food in your bellies and the lights on,” Wyatt informed his son. “Sure, they’re annoying, but we need them.”

Griffon’s pout was short-lived, and he filled his mouth with another slice of bread.

“Can we take some sandwiches with this bread for lunch?” Jake asked. “It’s so good.”

“ Si ,” Vica said. “I can make you some sandwiches before I head down to work.”

Both boys said “thank you” while their mouths were full.

Wyatt was too confused by her saying “work” to lecture them on speaking with their mouths closed.

“What’s this about ‘work’?” he asked. “I thought we all agreed it wasn’t safe for you to walk down to the restaurant.”

She grinned all proud and cheeky at him. “I don’t walk. Either Dom, Bennett, or Clint drive me down. I climb into the back of their truck and hide behind the seats. They drive me right up to the back door of the kitchen.”

Wyatt huffed through his nose as he sipped his coffee. Damn, she could make good coffee. What was it about Italians and knowing how to make the perfect cup of coffee? She used the same beans as he did. Probably the same amount too. And yet, hers was better. Way, way better.

“I need to be useful, Wyatt,” she said, reading the displeasure on his face. He’d never been very good at masking his emotions. “And with you recovering, it just made sense. Burke has been very patient with me. I’m making friends too. The kitchen staff are so nice. As are the front of house.”

“We’ll pay you, of course,” he said, unable to think of anything else to say even though he still wasn’t sure he liked this idea. He’d have to discuss things with his brothers. Even though it’d only been a few days with him laid up in his bed, he felt so out of the loop. Like an interloper in his own house and family. Vica had slid right into the McEvoy crew almost seamlessly, almost as if she had no intention of leaving when this nightmare was all over.

“You need to try this bread, Dad,” Griffon said, already on his fourth slice. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever had in my life.” He got all serious and went wide-eyed and unblinking at Wyatt. “In. My. Life.”

Unable to resist such a glowing review, Wyatt reached into the basket on the table and grabbed a slice of the Italian baguette. He smelled it first. It smelled incredible. Then he checked the crust. It had a nice, hard crust. Finally, he pressed his finger into the center to see if it would spring back nicely. It did. It had a beautiful crumb to it as well. Lastly, he took a bite and sure enough, it was fucking fantastic.

“I am a bread snob,” Vica said, forcing Wyatt to open eyes he didn’t even know he’d closed. “I would never serve you anything but perfection. And in my opinion, Italian bread is the very best in the world.”

“I agree,” Griffon said, about to reach for a fifth slice.

“Eat some fruit,” Wyatt said quickly, gently swatting his son’s hand away. “Don’t fill up on bread.”

“But it’s sooo good,” he protested.

“I agree, but you need berries for the vitamin C and the roughage. Otherwise, you’ll get scurvy and never shit again.”

“Is that true?” Griffon asked.

Wyatt placed his hand over his chest. “Hand to God.”

Vica snorted as they all watched Griffon scoop yogurt and berries into a bowl.

Vica’s phone buzzed on the table and she checked the message. “That was your Uncle Clint. He said you leave in thirty minutes.” She stood up from the table. “I better get started on those sandwiches then.”

“Turkey for me, please,” Jake said.

“PB and J for me,” Griffon called out with a mouthful of yogurt.

“I can do it,” Wyatt said, slowly getting up from his seat.

She dismissed him with a handwave and a headshake. “No, no. I’ve got it. You eat and rest.” Her smile was sweet, and she went to work in his kitchen preparing the kids their lunch. She already knew where everything was too. She was right at home, and it gave Wyatt an odd sensation in his belly.

Yes, he’d opened up his home to her, and yes, he married her—but all of that was meant to be temporary. The kids knew that. He knew that. They were under no illusion that Vica would stay and make a life here. If that was the case, or the plan all along, he would have handled things very differently.

But you like having her here. You like the idea of her being a permanent fixture in yours and the boys’ lives.

He did. But he was also scared .

What would happen if it didn’t work out? If they played house even after everything in her life got sorted, and for whatever reason, she decided island life wasn’t for her and she left? She was planning to head to New York. She had a career. A life. Surely, she didn’t want to settle down on the island and become a stepmother to two wild little boys.

Sure, it was fun now. But it was fun because it was temporary.

In no time, she had the boys’ lunches packed up and ready. Then she shooed them upstairs to gather their bathing suits and towels. She was in full-on mom-mode and Wyatt felt bad that his injury had landed her there. That was never part of their agreement.

Just as Jake was applying his sunscreen, Clint walked into the house, his eyes going wide as he took in Wyatt sitting on the couch drinking another cup of coffee. “He’s downstairs. I take it that means you’re feeling better?”

“Still sore, but I was going crazy just lying there on the bed. I need to move. I’ll take it easy, but I can’t do the idle thing any longer.”

“Vica, have you seen my hat?” Griffon yelled at the top of his lungs from the patio off the dining room. “I thought it was out here.”

“I already put it in the beach bag, lupetto. ”

Griffon came back into the house then howled like a wolf. He grinned at Wyatt. “Vica says I’m wild like a wolf. So she calls me ‘little wolf’ in Italian.”

“I see that,” Wyatt said. “Don’t forget to put sunscreen on, buddy.”

“Right. Jake, can you get my back?”

Jake rolled his eyes, but helped out his little brother.

“Dom said he’ll give you a ride this morning,” Clint said, addressing Vica. “He’ll be over in a minute with Silas.”

“ Perfecto ,” Vica said. “I’ll just go brush my teeth.” She zipped off upstairs to the boys’ bathroom.

Clint lifted his brows at Wyatt. “How are things going?”

Wyatt glanced at his kids. They were busy rubbing sunscreen into Griffon’s skin. Clearly, they’d applied too much and his son resembled a ghost. “They’re, uh … they’re weird.”

“Weird how?”

“We’ve, um …” He glanced at the kids again.

Understanding dawned in Clint’s eyes. “Ah. Say no more. Been there. And you’re feeling … regret? Guilt?”

“No … not that. Just … this is all temporary, right? And yet, as the days go by, it’s feeling that way less and less.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“It was never the plan.”

“Sometimes the best things in life don’t go according to plan.” Clint’s smile was lopsided, and his gaze flitted up to the stairs as Vica made her way back down. A moment later, there was a knock at the door and Dom entered with a ready-for-the-beach Silas.

“Ready, Freddy?” Clint asked Silas, taking in the kid’s long-sleeve rash guard, floppy sunhat, and shades.

“Yep,” Silas said, always a kid of few words.

“Don’t you think the UV protection is a little extreme?” Wyatt asked Dom.

Dom shrugged. “Beats repeatedly slathering on sunscreen. He might be pasty year-round, but at least he won’t burn or get melanoma.”

Wyatt snorted. “I guess …”

“All right, climb into the truck,” Clint said. “Your cousins are in there too.”

“Do we get to ride in the back?” Griffon asked.

Clint’s gaze slid to Wyatt, then back to Griffon, a cheeky smile on his mouth. “I was planning to strap you to the roof.”

Griffon did a fist pump. “Yes!” Then he stopped and glanced at Vica. “I mean, si !”

Vica chuckled and grabbed her purse from the bench near the door where the kids sat to put on their shoes. “Have fun, boys. I’ll see you later.”

“ Arrivederci, bella , ” Jake said with a big grin.

“ Arrivederci, orsetto, ” she replied, just as Jake growled like the little bear she’d called him. Then she kissed both boys on their cheeks, and to Wyatt’s surprise, they kissed her on the cheek back.

Clint shot Wyatt one more look over his shoulder before disappearing with the kids. A moment later, the truck pulled away in the driveway.

“Shall we?” Dom asked, nodding at Vica.

She nodded. “ Si. Andiamo. ” Then she turned to Wyatt. “Rest. I will see you later. All is well. Okay?”

All he could do was bob his head. The lump in the back of his throat was too thick and spikey.

Dom’s smile was thinner and flatter lipped. Like he knew what was going through Wyatt’s mind almost better than Wyatt did. “Rest, brother.”

Wyatt flipped his brother the middle finger, and Dom just snickered as he carefully escorted Vica out of the door. Wyatt was too slow getting up to watch Dom’s truck pull away, but he saw the rear of it as it rumbled toward the gate, then paused as they waited for the gate to open.

He knew his brothers would take Vica’s safety seriously, but Wyatt still didn’t like the idea of her not being home with him and under his protection. Not that he could really protect her right now. But it just felt like they were playing with fire having her out in the public where someone could hurt her.

He did his best to keep himself busy, but as much as he tried, his mind and thoughts were stuck on a loop. What the hell was going on down in his kitchen? Was Vica okay? He trusted his staff—particularly Burke—implicitly, and yet, Wyatt had never been one to easily hand over the reins of control to anybody.

He kept glancing at the clock, knowing exactly what the kitchen staff would be up to at any given moment. They opened the doors at ten thirty and served a limited brunch menu until noon. After that, it was their regular menu. The lunch rush was usually in full swing by eleven fifteen and lasted until about one thirty. Then they had a lull between two and four, where the staff were able to catch up and prep for the dinner rush. He waited until one forty-five—which nearly killed him—before he hobbled his injured ass down the hill to the restaurant .

Curiosity got the best of him, and he needed to check in on his kitchen. A familiar truck sat in the parking lot. It belonged to Willy Reilly, the local crab man.

He wasn’t anticipating walking through the back door and hearing Vica cursing and yelling in Italian.

“You are taking my money on the road,” she said in English.

Her argument was with Cash Reilly, one of Willy’s young adult sons. “Huh?” Cash said, his brown eyes wide with confusion. He glanced at Wyatt. “What is she talking about?”

Vica growled. “My hands are in the air. You are pointing a gun at me on the street and demanding all my money.”

Still baffled, and now worried he was going to get arrested for possession of an invisible firearm, Cash threw his hands in the air. The kid was only in his early-twenties and working for his dad for the summer while home from college. “I am definitely not pointing a gun at you.” He glanced around. “And we are in a kitchen.”

Wyatt’s face scrunched up for a moment, then the lightbulb flicked on, and he chuckled. “I think she means this is highway robbery.”

Vica nodded. “Yes. That is what I mean. You are robbing us on the highway. The crabs should not cost that much. Burke knows it. I know it. You are pointing guns and robbing us.”

“Hey,” Cash said, finally understanding what she meant, “this is market price. Everyone is charging this for fresh Dungeness right now.”

“ Cazzate! ” Which was the Italian equivalent of “bullshit.”

Wyatt snorted and reached for the invoice from Vica. “Let me see.” His brows rose a little, then he tipped his gaze to Cash. “Come on, Cash, you know better than to try to fuck us over. How would your dad like it if he found out you were adding ten percent to things? Let me guess, you were going to pocket the difference? Make a little extra on the side? ”

Cash’s face turned the color of a Roma tomato. But he didn’t deny it.

Vica shook her head. “This boy is not as good as bread.” She turned around and returned to the cold-side, where she was cutting up vegetables.

Wyatt exhaled and stepped closer to Cash. “What’s going on, Cash?”

He rolled his eyes. “My girlfriend has expensive taste.”

“And your dad isn’t paying you enough to accommodate such a taste?”

“Not if I want a car to get around while I’m at college. I use the company truck here on the island, but gas and insurance for my own vehicle aren’t cheap.”

“No, they’re not.”

Guilt filled his light-brown eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“How many other places have you done this with?”

“You were my first.” He hung his head, his chin to his chest.

“Be honest.”

Cash brought his gaze back to Wyatt’s. “I am. I swear.”

“You can’t be doing this, Cash. It’s dishonest. And it’s theft. From us … and from your dad.”

“Please don’t tell him. He’d fire me, and then Jasmine would definitely break up with me.”

Sakura and Willy Reilly were good, honest people. Their sons—Cash and Dash—even though they were technically adults, still had a lot of growing up to do.

Gripping Cash by the shoulder, Wyatt gave the kid a little warning squeeze. Nothing too hard, but enough to send a message. “If I find out you’ve done this to anybody else, I will go to your dad. If you’re telling the truth and I’m the first place you tried to pull this on, then I’ll keep it between us.”

Cash exhaled in relief. “You are. I promise.”

Wyatt nodded and let go of the kid. “We’re going to pay the fair market value.”

Cash nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Go back to your truck and write me up a new invoice.” He jerked his chin at the big, gray, plastic bin on the floor. “Crabs in here?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna pick the biggest and the best.”

“Of course. Of course.” Then Cash disappeared out the back door as if being chased by his own guilty conscience.

Crouching down carefully, he opened up the bin and started checking out the crabs. They were all still alive and male. It was illegal to keep the females. He didn’t even have to get out his measuring tape to make sure they were all above the legal size. Willy followed the letter of the law and wouldn’t allow his sons to compromise his business by keeping anything undersized.

The swinging door from the front of house pulled his attention. Nadine hung her brunette head into the kitchen. “Hey, Vica?”

“ Si, bella ?” Vica said.

“There’s a customer that’s asking if the homemade fettuccini Alfredo can have meatballs added to it?” Her face said it all. She thought the customer was nuts. But it was her responsibility to ask.

Vica’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Yeah … I … he said he prefers spaghetti, but we don’t have that on the menu. I told him the homemade fettuccini was a special, just offered today, and he asked if he could add the meatballs from the meatball sub into the fettuccini to create his own spaghetti.”

“If I put wheels on my grandmother, she becomes a bicycle.” Vica shook her head stiffly. “Absolutely not. No. Adding meatballs to fettuccini does not make it spaghetti. Tell him to buy both the sandwich and the fettuccini, and do it himself. But I will not be party to such …” Then she went off in Italian, shaking her head and throwing her hands in the air.

“Got it,” Nadine said with a laugh. She met Dom’s gaze. “She’s awesome.” Then she headed back to the front of house.

Burke came up beside Wyatt. “I like her. Can we keep her?”

Wyatt stood up to his full height, wincing just a little. “What is going on in here?”

Burke shrugged. “We’ve made some changes. Vica made a bunch of fettuccini so we added it to the Daily Special menu. It’s selling incredibly well. And I was on the phone with a supplier when Cash came in—which she handled beautifully as well. Woman’s got a set of brass ovaries on her, that’s for sure.”

“Behind,” Vica said, making her way behind Wyatt and Burke, a big bowl of diced cucumbers in her arms.

Wyatt spun around to watch her maneuver her way through the kitchen like she’d worked there for years.

Cash returned, still pink in the cheeks, with a new invoice in his hands. “Here,” he said, handing it to Wyatt.

Wyatt thanked the kid, then handed the invoice to Burke, who nodded and said he’d take care of it. Burke and Cash made their way to the small, kitchen office while Wyatt sidled up next to Vica. She was in the middle of mixing the cucumber she’d just diced with diced watermelon, mint, and feta for their Summertime Watermelon Salad. It was a customer favorite.

“You okay?” he asked.

The noise in her throat was nothing short of feral, then started wildly gesturing again. “You can’t just change a recipe. You can have meatballs. You can have spaghetti. You can have fettuccini. But you can not add meatballs to fettuccini and call it spaghetti. It is …” she growled again and didn’t finish her sentence.

“You know, you don’t have to work here if it’s frustrating you.”

She set down the big spoon she was using with a loud clunk onto the stainless-steel counter, and turned to face him. “Frustrating me? I love it here.”

“It doesn’t seem that way.”

Waving her hand dismissively, she shook her head. “Wyatt, I told you, I am finally feeling useful. I am contributing. I am making friends. I am not just sitting around waiting for someone to kill me, arrest me, or deport me. Do you know how depressing that is?”

Probably a lot more depressing and stressful than him sitting at home with a sore neck and back. Now he felt like a tool for wallowing in self-pity when her entire life was in literal limbo, and she was trying to make the very best of it while in survival-mode.

“You’re right,” he said, making sure his tone was gentler. He reached for her hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the top. “What time do you think you’ll be home tonight?”

“Burke figures I can leave about five or six. Why?”

“I still want to take you and show you Bonn Remmen’s land. Let’s do that tonight when the kids are in bed. I’m going to go home and make a nice dinner for the four of us, then we’ll go for a walk later.”

Her eyes sparkled, but then turned concerned. “Don’t overdo it. You are still recovering.”

Cupping her jaw, he stroked his thumb over her cheek. “Let me worry about that. The more I move, the better I feel. I get stiff if I sit for too long. I, too, want to feel useful.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you back at the house.”

Nodding, she smiled, and damn if that smile didn’t nearly knock the wind clear from his lungs.

Cash and Burke emerged from the office and Wyatt turned a little, which pulled funny at his neck. He needed to remember to move his whole body, not just his neck. “Hold up, Cash. I’ll walk you out.”

Between Wyatt and Burke, they unloaded the crabs they paid for. Then Cash carried the bin with the remaining crabs back out to his truck.

“I really am sorry, Wyatt. It was stupid.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“It won’t happen again. And I really appreciate you not saying anything to my dad.”

Wyatt nodded. “We all make mistakes in our youth. What matters is that we learn from them.” A thought hit him in the brain like a baseball to the temple. “ Hey, just out of curiosity, you might know this better than most since you’re a delinquent youth of the island …”

Cash snorted. “Thanks?”

Wyatt chuckled. “If someone were to store a vehicle here to keep it hidden, where would they do that?”

Cash’s brows narrowed. “Hidden how and why?”

“Like they didn’t want the vehicle found because it was involved in an accident or something.”

“There are few larger warehouses, garages, and barns around that might be a good place to store a car.”

“Do you think you could put together a list of addresses and people who have these on their property and send me the list?”

Cash shrugged. “Sure. Anything for you, Wyatt.”

Wyatt grinned and clapped Cash on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy. The sooner the better.”

“I’ll have it to you by tonight. Once I’m done with my deliveries, I’ll get on it. Dash can help too. Since, you know, we’re both delinquent island youth.”

“Delinquent island youth with promise,” Wyatt corrected, heading back up the hill.

He wasn’t quite sure where this train of thought was taking him, but he knew it was somewhere that could hopefully help Vica. The vehicle that ran her off the road had to be the same one that collided with them the other night. And it was still somewhere on the island.

He just needed to figure out where. And once he did that, they could find the motherfucker that ran a vehicle with his kids off the road, and then opened fire.

He’d need to take a brother with him though. Otherwise, there was no telling where Wyatt’s temper might take him.