Wanting a Family Man (Raven’s Cove #3)

Chapter Three

“W e’re out here, Em,” Reid called over his shoulder.

Cloe was completely disoriented. When the nanny had said she was checking on the baby, Cloe had sat down on a lounger here on the deck. The next thing she knew, she’d woken to find an entirely different woman here.

Sophie had introduced herself as Emma’s friend. She had expressed her condolences over Tiffany, then told her Emma was Mrs. Fraser. Reid and Emma were married and planning to adopt Storm.

Cloe was still trying to assimilate that news when these three men clomped out here like a wet team hired to dispose of a body. They were big and muscled and all wore glowers that made her guts turn to acid.

At the same time, she was so stupidly sensitive to him , Trystan, that she felt his watchful gaze like a laser that left her skin feeling sunburned and hot.

For a minute, she had thought Sophie was on her side, but no. She was snuggling herself under Logan’s arm. The bunch of them formed a wall so she couldn’t even glimpse Storm through them.

They didn’t want her here. That was beyond obvious. And devastating.

She ignored her despair, though, looking longingly through the small spaces between them, waiting for Emma to emerge from the house and—

Oh God. Look at her .

The baby Emma held on her hip was utterly perfect.

Storm was almost nine months. Cloe had been counting the days and weeks like a new mother, but all she’d had was a handful of photos that Tiffany had sent her when Storm was first born. She’d had them printed before she sold her phone. Storm was so different now, sturdy and alert with fine hair that was long enough to kick up in almost curls beside her ears. She had soft, round cheeks and blue-gray eyes exactly like Tiff’s. She wore a yellow onesie printed with the words I’m the Boss that left her pale, pudgy arms and legs bare.

She looked happy. That’s what struck Cloe, leaving a poignant ache inside her chest. Storm grinned with recognition at Reid as he drew Emma under his arm. He glanced down at his baby sister and his face altered into a moment of acute tenderness that twisted the knife lodged in Cloe’s heart.

“I”—she had to clear her throat—“I should have called first, I know. Sophie told me you two are married and want to adopt her?” All of her felt dry and barren with only the unrelenting heat of envy burning holes into her organs.

“Yes.” Reid’s hard stare practically knocked her off the deck.

“I’m not here to get in the way of that.” If only, if only . “I’m not actually in a position to support her, no matter how much I would love to.” She could barely take care of herself. “I came to make sure she was in good hands. That’s all.” That wasn’t all. She wanted to know her niece, but she could tell that was the last thing they wanted.

It hurt to acknowledge their hostility. It hurt even more to see Reid’s hand give Emma’s arm a reassuring rub. They were feeling threatened, which told her how much they loved Storm. That part was heartening, but it made Cloe jealous and sad and filled her with yearning. They had all of this to offer Storm and were far better equipped to raise her. It was in Storm’s best interest that they do so. Cloe couldn’t deny her niece any of this, but she still wished with all her heart that she had more to offer her than unconditional love and a soggy smile.

“I shouldn’t have run out the way I did,” Emma said in embarrassed apology. “I panicked.”

“It’s okay.” According to Sophie, Emma had been caring for Storm as though she was her own from the second she’d received the news about Tiffany. Cloe’s relief at hearing that was almost as profound as her wish that she had been the one to care for the baby herself.

She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off Storm and tried to catch her eye, smiling when she did. “Hi, baby.”

She braced herself for Storm to play shy, but after locking stares with her, Storm offered a smile that was a burst of love and acceptance and Tiffany . That was her sister, right there, inside that teeny-weeny, pudgy body.

As her eyes brimmed with emotive tears, Cloe fell straight into love, irrevocably and for all time. She had to blink to keep her rush of hot tears in her stinging eyes, so they wouldn’t leak all over her face.

“Will you go see your Auntie Cloe?” Emma asked Storm, starting to offer the baby to her.

Auntie Cloe . Her heart was wrenched afresh. Cloe stepped closer, hands itching to grab the baby, but she only held them out in invitation.

The weight of every pair of eyes sat on her, heavy, sinking her heart with helplessness at how powerless she was to do anything but say hello to a baby she wanted to claim as her very own, hoping the baby would like her. If Storm rejected her, they all would.

Storm’s curious gaze looked straight into her soul. With a sudden, cheeky grin, she leaned toward her.

“Oh!” She was a ball of sunshine, nearly blinding Cloe with the bright joy she detonated inside her.

Storm was heavier than she looked, but strong and clingy and warm and soft. She smelled like heaven. Like windy skies and cotton and milk and something indescribably sweet but distantly familiar.

Cloe wasn’t really aware of sitting down, only that Storm filled her lap and immediately tried to stand on her thighs. One fist clenched into the collar of Cloe’s T-shirt as she bounced her knees and wobbled. What a dynamo of energetic perfection!

Cloe’s cheeks hurt, she was smiling so hard. She kept a firm hold on her while letting her do whatever baby stuff she wanted to do. The rest of the world ceased to exist while she became enraptured with bow legs and downy skin and a gooey smile around a slobbery fist.

She had never spent much time around babies. When she had babysat in high school, it had always been for kids who were able to walk and talk. She hadn’t appreciated how helpless and untouched by life babies were.

Storm had lost her mother, but she didn’t know it, which was tragic, but also it was a gift to not be shattered by the loss of Tiffany, the way Cloe was. She wrapped her arm around the baby and gave Storm’s hair a light caress, wishing she could somehow keep her this happy and oblivious to life’s blows forever.

And she tried to memorize everything about her. Her faint, expressive eyebrows and her button nose and the scratch of her little fingernails against her neck. The burble of her voice making nonsense sounds and the balance of softness and muscle in her warm little shape.

Oh, Tiff. I wish you could see what you made .

Cloe wanted to kiss her cheeks and drink in the smell of her neck and hold on to her forever and ever.

Babies had their own wants, though. After an uncounted number of minutes, Storm quit chewing her fist and stuck her wet hand out, squealing a noise of excitement.

“You’re going to act like you didn’t know I was here this whole time?” Trystan said in a tone that was dry but indulgent.

Cloe was instantly yanked back to reality, suddenly feeling terribly exposed as she realized everyone had been staring at her while she had been in her own little bubble with her niece.

Wait. Not everyone. Sophie and Logan were gone. That was a small blessing, she supposed.

Trystan crouched in front of her and offered Storm a teething toy, but Storm wanted him. She leaned out so unexpectedly, Cloe gasped and snatched her closer.

At the same time, Trystan reacted with lightning reflexes, bracing the baby so his hands covered Cloe’s elbow and wrist.

“She does that,” he said while Storm gave a staccato cry, one that wasn’t really distressed, only annoyed that she’d been denied going to Trystan.

Trystan’s palms were faintly calloused as he slid his wide hands to bracket Storm’s torso and drew her from Cloe’s loosening grip. A sizzling fire seemed to burn up her arms into her chest, but Cloe told herself it was the overwhelm of this moment. Her defenses were utterly annihilated. Thank goodness she was still sitting down. She was so bereft at giving up that baby, she could have collapsed into tears.

Trystan’s features softened as he straightened and tipped Storm against his chest, pretending to eat her bare toes, making the baby giggle.

Cloe’s heart lurched painfully, reacting to the way he expressed his love for Storm so naturally. Why can’t that be me? The thought was quickly followed by a disconcerting Which one of them do you want to be? The one holding the baby or the one being held by that man?

Storm couldn’t survive on love alone, though. She gave another cross-sounding whimper that was also a demand and grabbed at Trystan’s mouth.

“You’re not subtle, are you, kid?” He pulled his head back from her grabby hand. “What’s for lunch, Em?”

“There’s an avocado that’s ripe. I’ll warm something from the freezer.” She opened the sliding door and stepped into the kitchen, calling back, “Does anyone want coffee? I thought Logan was making some, but—”

“I’ll make a pot,” Reid said over his shoulder, but stayed on the deck, facing Cloe.

She rose, unsure if she was invited to stay for coffee or not.

Trystan paused in the doorway, staring at Reid’s back while Cloe felt pinned in place by their two pairs of eyes. Her chest tightened as she suffered a flashback to lengthy hours of interrogation and cross-examination.

“I’m going to say it because it needs to be said,” Reid told her matter-of-factly. “When the will was read, it was determined that Tiffany’s portion was absorbed into Dad’s estate. Storm is entitled to a quarter of whatever we wring out of this resort. It will be held in trust until—”

“Oh my God.” Cloe was horrified. And insulted. Maybe a teensy bit ashamed because she bordered on destitute and had distantly hoped they would show her some pity and help her find work or a place to stay, but, “I didn’t come here expecting money! I came here because I needed to see with my own eyes that Storm’s okay. She’s all I have of Tiffany. I’m all she has of her mother.” The last came out with what shreds of dignity she still possessed. “It’s fine if you don’t want me to be part of your life, but she has a right for me to be part of hers.”

Reid’s cheek ticked. Trystan seemed to be staring holes into his brother’s back, but Cloe was holding Reid’s stare, using every ounce of strength she possessed to keep her chin up and her spine straight.

Behind Reid, Storm grew more agitated.

Reid glanced over his shoulder and the men exchanged a look that seemed telepathic because they didn’t betray much in their stoic expressions. Whatever was said had Reid lifting his brows and giving Cloe a nod as though a matter was resolved.

“Stay for coffee. Let’s talk this out,” Reid said.

Cloe suspected the coffee would burn straight through her stomach lining, but she said “Thanks” and made her unsteady legs hold her long enough to step back into the kitchen.

She took the nearest chair at the kitchen table and watched the three adults perform a sort of ballet. While Trystan secured Storm into her highchair, Emma scattered cereal O’s on her tray. Reid began making coffee and handed Trystan the avocado.

“Am I making enough for Logan and Sophie? Where are they?” Reid looked around as he measured grounds into the basket filter.

“I think they left.” Emma shrugged then glanced to where Trystan was cutting the avocado in half. “Did you get anything out of him while you guys were out today?”

“It was a meeting, not a fishing trip,” Trystan said.

“Tsk.” Emma stirred whatever was in the saucepan on the stove. “I gave you one job.”

Trystan smirked as he brought the half avocado to the table and angled a chair to face Storm. She began to wave her arms and kick her legs as he tied her bib.

“All right, baby bird.” He sat and used a flat spoon to lightly mash the avocado in its shell. “Here comes the grub.”

Storm was already leaning forward with her mouth open.

Cloe smiled as she watched, envious in a whole new way. They all moved so effortlessly as a unit, as though they were used to sharing this space and caring for the baby. They didn’t need words to communicate.

“You should stay for dinner,” Emma said, stirring the pan vigorously so the spoon scraped the bottom in a swirling rasp.

Reid paused in drawing coffee mugs out of a cupboard. He sent his wife a look that Cloe couldn’t read because Emma was on his far side.

Trystan didn’t seem to react beyond a considering look into the mashed avocado.

“I’d like that.” Cloe sensed how hard it had been for Emma to say that and waited for Reid or Trystan to contradict her. It was humiliating how grateful she was for any tiny crumb, but she would take it all the same. “Thank you.”

“Do you take cream or sugar, Cloe?” Reid opened the fridge.

“Black is fine, thanks.”

He nodded and poured two mugs that he brought to the table, leaving one near Trystan. He doctored a third one with cream for Emma, then poured his own.

Trystan rose with the empty avocado shell. Emma took his spot with her bowl of warmed orange mush—yam or carrot, maybe.

Storm immediately tried to grab Emma’s spoon.

“Yeah, I should have left that.” Trystan brought back the spoon he’d used and handed it to Storm before he took a chair at the back of the table, next to Cloe.

When he reached out to retrieve his coffee, his knee brushed Cloe’s under the table, making her so aware of him, she blushed. She refused to look at him so she wouldn’t betray why she was blushing, but she was grossly aware that he probably knew.

As if this situation wasn’t excruciating enough. Why? Why did she have to react to him this way? She didn’t even like men anymore. Not that she was into women. Or anyone, really. She was firmly disenchanted with relationships and sex and trusting people on any level. When she had left LA, she had been convinced she was dead inside.

It made sense that Storm would open the tap on her emotions again, but this attraction to Trystan shouldn’t be happening. It wasn’t even real. She was reacting to a fantasy version of him that she had constructed over hours and hours of watching him online.

He must see women behave this way so often, he was bored of it. He got a lot of female attention. She’d read the online comments and watched the clips of grown women acting like adolescents, fawning over him.

Thankfully, the baby was entertaining. Cloe was able to fixate on her and pretend she had forgotten Trystan existed. Storm got her own spoon in the way of Emma’s and voiced her opinion in a loud crowing noise, but the silence between the adults drew out, thick and screamingly awkward.

“How did—” Emma began.

“Why—” Reid spoke at the same time and cut himself off, waving an invitation to Emma. “You go ahead.”

“I was going to ask how it went this morning, but that can wait. What were you going to say?”

“I was wondering why Cloe was unable to leave California until a week ago.” He turned his attention on her so antagonistically, she sat back in her chair with a mental Oof .

Another even less comfortable silence crashed down around them.

“What kind of time do you have?” Cloe joked, pretty sure that revealing her troubles would not endear her to any of them.

“Efforts were made by the ministry to contact you when the plane went down,” Reid said, sounding very much the detached corporate consultant. “Emma told them Tiffany had a sister, but no one had your details. Since Emma was the only caregiver Storm knew, we kept her on while we came back here to look after her and run this place.” He gave the marina a distracted wave. “Then Em and I married, and we all genuinely believe the best thing for Storm is for us to adopt her.”

“Sophie explained that,” Cloe murmured, dropping her gaze into the black hole of her coffee mug. “I wanted to come when Tiffany told me she was pregnant, but it seemed smarter to wait until the baby arrived, since technically I would only be able to stay in the country six months. I thought…” A lot of overly optimistic things, like that Ivan would change. “I thought if I applied for a work visa, I would be able to stay longer and maybe be the nanny Tiff needed. By the time I got the visa, other parts of my life had gone sideways. I wasn’t able to leave California until last week.”

She wondered how much they knew. Enough, she suspected, to put those frowns of guardedness and apprehension on their faces.

“What are your plans now?” Trystan asked her.

He had a really deep voice. The brothers all sounded similar, but Trystan’s voice was familiar from his show. She could easily pick it out from the others.

“This,” she admitted wryly, nodding at Storm. “I didn’t think beyond finding her and seeing for myself that she’s well. I thought that once I found her, I could get a job and a place to rent nearby.” She tilted her head with self-deprecation at how na?ve that thought had been. Who knew there were so few options here? “I just really want her to know that, you know, her mom’s family cares about her as much as her dad’s does.” Her voice rasped on that truth.

Emma gave a small flinch and scraped at the bowl she held.

Cloe couldn’t tell if she was reacting to Cloe referring to Tiffany as Storm’s mom or something else.

Footsteps on the stairs from the floor below had everyone looking that direction. Logan and Sophie came into the kitchen.

“We thought you two had left.” Reid was still standing near the coffeepot, hips leaned on the counter while he sipped from his mug.

“My boots are up here.” Sophie walked toward the front door. “I’m going back to work because somebody has to run this place.”

“You’re doing great,” Trystan called out with pleasant cheer.

“Yeah. Eleven out of ten,” Reid agreed with a nod.

“Thanks. I’ll bring it up at my next review.” Sophie threw a raised brow at Logan.

“You’ll come back for dinner?” Emma asked. “I invited Cloe. Trystan will be here.” She glanced at him.

Trystan gave one jerky nod. He was radiating tension that made Cloe tense in response.

Emma and Sophie exchanged menu ideas, then Logan kissed Sophie and she left. Logan came into the kitchen to pour himself a coffee, asking, “How long are you staying, Cloe? Where are you staying?”

Was her entire life about making the same statements again and again? It was exhausting. It really was.

“I didn’t book anything because I wasn’t sure Storm was actually here. I’d love to stay and see a little more of her while I figure out my next steps, but I think I’ll have to look for accommodation in Bella Bella. Do you know of anything that isn’t too expensive? Maybe someone who might rent a room for cheap and take yard work in trade?”

This felt a lot like she was throwing herself on the mercy of the court. Again. It opened a pit of uncertainty behind her diaphragm, making it hard to catch her breath.

While the men were exchanging looks, trying to decide how to answer, Emma said, “Who were some of the people who took kayakers when the Missionary II went down? Maybe one of them would have a room for a few days?”

“She can stay on the Storm Ridge until I leave on Wednesday,” Trystan said.

Everyone turned their heads to stare at him. He didn’t seem bothered by it, only sipped his coffee and said to Cloe, “I was going to take Storm tomorrow. We can spend the day with her.”

He was really good at making Cloe’s heart swerve.

“That would be amazing. Thank you.” What was the Storm Ridge ? The boat she’d seen them climb aboard this morning? It hadn’t looked big enough to have a bed, let alone a bedroom, but she was prepared to sleep in the back of a car if it would keep her here for a few more days. “Could I shower there? I’m dying to freshen up.”

“You can use the shower downstairs.” Trystan glanced at Emma, and she nodded. “I’ll show you.” Trystan rose.

Oh. Right now. Okay.

Cloe was actually desperate for a moment alone to collect herself so she grabbed her bag and followed him into the basement.