Chapter Sixteen

“You dropped a stitch, you fat-fingered fuck.”

Wing’s accusation carried over the comfortable buzz of patrons at The Goose. Ford looked over to where Mad held up his half-finished bootie and protested, “I did not. Where?”

“Right there.” Wing reached across their round table and pointed to the defect. “Tell him, Rose.”

Rose got up from her seat between Archer and Trace, where she’d been refereeing some baby blanket brinksmanship between the two men, and came around to examine the bootie from over Mad’s shoulder. “Yes.” She fingered the yarn. “You dropped a stitch here.”

“Dammit.” He tossed the knitting to the table and scrubbed both hands over his head. “I said it when we started, and I’ll say it now. I can’t do this.”

“You’re doing very well,” Rose encouraged. “You’re halfway done with the first bootie.”

“But now I have to unravel…” He scrutinized the bootie in front of him. “Goddammit. A whole row. Jesus. The kid will be in college by the time I finish.”

“No, not a row. I can fix this,” Rose assured him. “Where is the hook?”

She referred to the crotchet hook she’d brought after the second knitting session when it had become evident they’d be dealing with dropped stitches. Particularly Mad.

The hook, Ford knew, was on the desk in his office, in the mug he used to hold pens and pencils. He’d stuck it there yesterday when he’d been knitting during his downtime. He was nearly done with his hat. Another day or so—contingent upon Rose being available to help him cast-off—and Shayla would have her first handknit item. Not that she needed it anytime soon. July had finally arrived and brought plenty of sunshine and mild temperatures. “It’s in my office. I’ll get it.”

He put his project aside, stood, and stretched, then glanced around his comfortably bustling business. Food orders tapered off by this time of the evening, allowing Silent Mike and Owen to man the bar while he took this Tuesday night for knitting circle. It wasn’t hard to break away if they needed an additional set of hands, but generally, by nine p.m., it was more about pulling taps and filling pints. The Spruce Goose and The Wild Goose Chase were official hits with the customers. A few out-of-towners had even asked about having orders shipped to their homes, which had given him thoughts about a brew-of-the-month club. A potential new revenue stream during the off-season, admittedly with some legal logistics around shipping, but worth looking into.

So yeah, life was good, he decided as he crossed the room. Mia and he had survived almost a month together, and while he had a lot to learn about being a dad, he absolutely wanted to. He’d always loved her, cared about her welfare, felt invested in her happiness, but it had been behind the scenes and from a distance. Now he enjoyed getting to know her, discovering their similarities and their differences. Soaking in every detail of her. September, and her return to Pittsburg, loomed on the horizon, but still comfortably far off.

Mad had predicted she’d bore of Captivity and its small-town offerings, but so far it hadn’t come to pass. Naturally outgoing, she’d made friends with the local kids. She seemed to enjoy being the sophisticated teen from the lower forty-eight as much as the new girl they got to introduce to adventures the rest of them took for granted—crabbing down at the cove, or day-crewing on Jorg’s fishing boat, or hiking trails around the base of Big Kat mountain—Captivity’s own craggy peak in the towering Chilkat range.

The other kids couldn’t keep her busy all the time, though, because most of them worked over the summer to earn money, contribute to a family business, or both. Smart and resourceful, she’d also found a purpose for herself that seemed to satisfy her. She accompanied him to The Goose most weekdays and helped him open. Then, at eleven thirty, when Lilah arrived with Shayla, she took over baby-care. They went for walks, or to the little park, or down to the General Store. After dinner, she snuggled up in his office with her laptop to complete an online summer course while Shayla lounged in her carrier and took an evening nap. She probably could have done the babysitting at his place, but for whatever reason, she seemed content to spend hours a day hanging out at The Goose.

You’re the reason.

Just thinking it sent a surge of paternal pride through him. His daughter wanted to spend time with him.

For all the stress that had gone into figuring out how they’d make it all work, it was working just fine. Mia seemed happy—happier than he’d dared hope, to be honest, but he was pretty damn happy himself having her in his life, so maybe it wasn’t so inexplicable. And Lilah? Lilah was…amazing. Making a home for herself and her daughter in Ray’s little cottage, balancing everything with her innate grace and boundless spirit. She radiated contentment, with the one exception of the continuing rift with Rose. Otherwise, she thrived right along with the baby. They all thrived.

True, he’d silently cursed Jen that night at the airport when Mia had handed her phone to him and Jen had said how, now that she knew Mia was safe, it might actually be better for everyone if their daughter spent some time getting to know him. He didn’t have to be a family-dynamics savant to understand Jen meant it would be better for her. She’d get a break from a rebellious teen going through a particularly tough time and enjoy her first kid-free stretch in years, unencumbered and available for spontaneous romantic getaways with her new guy. A new guy in Orlando, as it turned out. After all this time treating him like a loose end to be tucked away, suddenly she had a use for him. In this instance, he didn’t mind being used. He considered it a privilege, spending these weeks with Mia. A challenging privilege, occasionally, but a privilege, nonetheless.

By now Mia would be back at his place. Lilah would have dropped her off on her way home with Shayla. Secure in that knowledge, he swung into his office and…froze. Lilah sat there in the muted glow of his desk lamp, asleep in his not-terribly-comfortable chair. Her long, tan legs were propped on his desk, sneakered feet crossed at the ankles, a shadowy gap at the tops of her thighs where they disappeared under her khaki skirt, the sleeping baby cradled to her breasts. Her bare breasts. Her opulent, beautifully full, pale breasts exposed thanks to her having bunched her snug white Tipsy Goose T-shirt up and opened the front clasp of her bra to nurse.

The door swung closed behind him with a click that jolted him out of the breast-induced altered state he’d slipped into.

Okay. Okay. Mother and baby had conked out in the middle of a feeding. A normal thing. Probably. She often used his office at the end of her shift to sneak in a snack for Shayla and a diaper change before she left. He’d just back out as quietly as possible, close the door, and then knock before entering. Give her time to…cover up, protect herself from his intrusive gaze and unrelenting want and immoral fantasies about running his finger along the lush swell of her breast, teasing it over her pink nipple, filling his palm with the soft, warm weight.

“Ford?” Her sleepy, husky voice filled his ears, and while he wasn’t a man prone to prayer, he prayed his lust-ravaged mind had manufactured the haltingly seductive sound of his name on her lips.

Helpless to stop himself, he raised his gaze to her face and fell into the sheltering canopy of her slumberous, green eyes. “I…uh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here, and…” Shit. He was staring at her breasts again. He squeezed his eyes shut, managed a final, “Sorry,” and had to wrestle his way out the door because the knob refused to turn in his sweaty hand. Once he closed it safely behind him, he let out a long, shuddering breath.

Fuck, that was…bad. With retreat at the top of his list of imperatives, he turned to walk down the hall, then stopped again. Dammit, he didn’t have the hook, and Lilah didn’t know her mother was sitting in the bar waiting for it. They still hadn’t spoken, and while he’d do whatever he could to change that, he didn’t want Lilah caught in an ambush if she followed him out there to…oh, maybe tear him a new one for staring at her tits like some deviant?

With a fatalistic sigh, he returned to his office door. Just as he raised his fist to knock, it opened. Lilah stood there, slightly flushed, big diaper bag over her shoulder, and the baby carrier in her other hand with the still-sleeping infant tucked inside.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“It’s okay. Really.” She rested her free hand on his arm. “I’m sorry I subjected you to that. She was fussy last night, so I’m extra tired, but that’s no excuse for falling asleep with my shirt up and the…uh…milk factory hanging out like a…” She shook her head rather than complete the sentence. “You should be able to walk into your office without worrying about what you’re going to find on the other side of the door.”

“No, no. I didn’t mind.” Holy shit. Stop talking.

The inane comment earned him an odd look. “You didn’t?”

“I meant, you’re fine,” he continued his clumsy tip-toe through this minefield of a conversation. “I want you to use the office. You need a safe, comfortable place to take care of Shayla. I should have knocked. From now on, I’ll knock. I promise.” He squeezed past her through the narrow doorway, flicked the wall switch to flood the small room with buzzing fluorescent light, and snagged the crochet hook from the pencil cup. “I need to tell you your mom’s in the bar. She doesn’t know you’re still here. If you want to see her, talk to her, and introduce her to Shayla, I can bring her back—”

“No.” Her response came instantly and unequivocally. She looked down at her daughter, but not before he saw the sad slant of her eyes. “She made her position on me and my choices crystal clear. If she’s had a change of heart, she needs to let me know. Otherwise, I must respect her wishes.”

“Honey.” Suddenly weary to the bone, he tugged her back into the office, sat her in the chair, put the sleeping baby at her feet, and leaned against the desk, facing her. “Rose is a proud woman. She might not feel capable of coming right out and saying she’s had a change of heart. But she’s showing it in other ways.”

“How?” She eased the diaper bag off her shoulder and placed it on her lap. “By teaching Team XY how to knit?”

“Yeah, in part.”

“That means nothing, Ford. She likes you guys, and she likes to take charge of things. I can’t interpret her being out there tonight as a change of heart. She didn’t come to see me. She came to see you and the others.”

“Who do you think talked Ray into offering his cabin?”

That question brought a wary expression to her face. “I figured Don from The Castaway mentioned to Ray that I needed a place.” She responded with the hesitation of someone no longer sure of her answer.

Proceed with caution, his inner voice warned, because Lilah had her pride, too. “I found out by chance that Rose and Ray flew to Anchorage together the day Shayla was born. Well, early that morning. Rose tapped him to take her there and back for some shopping, which, by the way, included that crib Ray had at his place, the one he claimed he picked up from his cousin who had an extra.”

Her hold on the diaper bag turned to a white-knuckled grip. “Are you telling me I have my current place and a crib thanks to my mother?”

“Yes.” Because her color came up, he went on quickly. “Now, don’t go doing something that lets her know you know. She wanted to help, and she went into stealth mode to do it, as it made the help easier for her to provide and easier for you to accept. But it shows she cares, even if she can’t bring herself to say so in words.”

“Well, God.” Flags of red flew high on her cheekbones, but her voice held no fire. “I thought I’d had a streak of luck.”

“You did, but it was thanks to your mom manipulating fate in your favor.”

“Oh.” She still looked unsettled by the news, but not angry. “This is all very enlightening, but it doesn’t change much for me. She doesn’t want me to know what she did, so she clearly doesn’t want my thanks. She’s not opening a line of communication with these actions. She’s just, I don’t know, easing her conscience, I guess.”

Pride. Pride on all sides. Rather than point out it often came before a fall, he packed his own frustration away for the moment and moved on. “So what I’m hearing is you’re going out through the alley?”

“I think that would be best.” With her exit strategy decided, she rose, shouldered the bag, picked up the baby carrier, and started walking toward the kitchen.

He fell into step beside her and took the carrier. “It’s dark. I’ll walk you to your car.” As they crossed the kitchen—the exceedingly quiet kitchen—he wondered out loud, “Where’s Lou?”

She looked around. “He was here when I came around the corner to go to your office, but that was over an hour ago.”

The trash bins were empty, the floor and counters clean, the dishwasher churning through a cycle. The kitchen looked clean enough to make even the strictest county health inspector put his checklist away. Maybe he’d taken a break?

If so, he’d earned it, always carrying out his less-than-glamorous duties efficiently and without a complaint. The kid appeared 100 percent committed to staying clean and healthy. He’d even started looking better—arriving for his shifts more groomed, less haphazard. As they approached the door to the alley, another question struck. If Lilah was still here, where the hell was…

“Where’s Mia?”

Lilah paused at the door. “Oh, gosh. I don’t know. She was back here before, too. I told her I needed ten minutes. She planned to hang out and catch a ride with me, but it’s been way more than ten minutes. Maybe she decided to walk home?”

He wasn’t crazy about the possibility of her walking home alone in the dark. It wasn’t a long way, and local kids—even ones younger than Mia—routinely walked to and from town, though usually with siblings or friends. But Captivity wasn’t suburban Pittsburg, with its sidewalks and streetlights. They had terrain. And wildlife. “She needs to tell me if she decides to do something like that.” Yes. That sounded appropriate, but not over-protective. Definitely a new rule. One he’d call and inform her of after he escorted Lilah to her Jeep. Happy with his decision, he slapped his palm against the metal release bar across the door leading to the alley and held it open for Lilah to walk through first.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Two people stood on the other side, wrapped together like vines. Hands under clothes. Lips locked. Tongues tangled.

Surprise wrested a soft, “Oh!” from Lilah, not nearly loud enough to cover his not-so-soft, “Oh, hell no.”

Louis jumped away and turned a guilty shade of red. But Mia? Uh-uh. No jumping, no blushing, not even a flicker of shame on her face. If anything, he’d label her expression annoyed.

And maybe it was that utterly genuine annoyance more than the sight of his barely high-school aged daughter playing tonsil hockey with a guy who could earn his driver’s license before the year was out that short-circuited the wires to the part of his brain responsible for rationality. “You”—he pointed at Mia—“get your stuff. Lilah’s taking you home, where you’ll stay for the rest of the summer, because you’re grounded. And you”—he switched to Louis—“go to my office and wait there until I decide whether to castrate you or kill you altogether—”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Mia shifted to stand in front of Louis—who looked legit terrified—crossed her arms, and jutted her chin. “You need to chill.”

“Chill? Chill? You want me to chill? How about this? I’ll chill when my sixteen-year-old employee stops putting his hands all over my fourteen-year-old daughter.”

Louis’ fearful eyes went saucer-sized. The red leaked out of his cheeks, leaving him pale under his tan. “Aw, Jesus,” he muttered. “You told me you were in high school.”

She looked over her shoulder at the kid. “I am in high school. Starting this fall.” With that small fact apparently clarified to her satisfaction, she turned back to him to resume their stare-down. “And I’m not grounded. I’m allowed to date.”

“Bullshit.”

Her chin came up. “Call my mom.”

“You can bet your grounded ass I will.” With that guarantee hanging in the air, he took her arm, turned her around, and started walking. “My office,” he growled at Louis, not bothering looking back to see if the boy obeyed. No need. He knew where the kid lived. Holding the baby carrier in one hand, his prodigy of promiscuous behavior in the other, he followed Lilah down the alley, herding all the females currently turning his life upside-down to the street. Fuck it. When had he signed up for this? For trading in the peaceful, predictable bachelor existence he’d taken too much for granted into a harrowing series of calamities that promised to put him in an early grave?

When they reached Lilah’s Jeep, he handed the carrier over so she could latch it into the car seat. Mia pulled free of his hold and faced him. “You’re being a dick.”

“We can debate that in thirty years, after you’ve pulled your fourteen-year-old child out of a lip lock with a sixteen-year-old. Until then, I’m done.”

He meant he was done with any discussion centering around his alleged overreaction to what he’d seen, but the way Mia’s face paled, the way her mouth trembled, and her eyes grew bright, told him she’d interpreted his words in a much more final way. She stepped back, sank her fists into the pockets of her black zip-up Pirates hoodie, and stood there like a little island of hurt. big wounded eyes looked up at him out of a flushed face. “So, now that I’ve pissed you off, you’re done? You don’t want me anymore, either?”

Damn it, he’d wanted to see some hint of remorse from her, but now that he did, he felt like a bastard. Those eyes hit him like a one-two punch—a blow to the heart and to the gut. The solitary stance made her look even younger than she was, more fragile than she’d ever appreciate, and so alone it killed him. Going purely on instinct he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a tight hug. She pressed her face to his shoulder. “I want you,” he muttered against the top of her head. “I love you, Mia. That’s why I’m angry. And yeah,” he went on when he heard her muffled sob, “I know how fucked-up that sounds. You’ll just have to trust me on it.”

God, he was in over his head. Doing and saying everything wrong and screwing up so badly she’d probably need a team of therapists just to recover from this summer. He met Lilah’s gentle gaze over the open back door and felt some of the pressure in his chest loosen at her small nod of approval. She rolled her finger in a “keep talking” gesture.

Okay. Okay. Okay. He took a deep breath and sorted out his thoughts. “Nobody’s done with you,” he murmured to Mia. “Least of all me. I just got you, for God’s sake. But we are going to talk about this—about boys and boundaries—once I’m done—”

“I’m allowed to hang out with boys.” She raised her tear-streaked face to his as she said it, but he didn’t miss the fact that she’d already changed her tune by a note. Maybe Jen and Jack allowed her to “hang out” with boys, but to his mind there were many miles between “hanging out” with a boy and getting to first base with one.

“I’m going to talk with your mom first, but Mia”—he eased his hold and backed up so he could rest his hands on her shoulders, and they could look at each other face-to-face—“you’re under my care this summer. You’re my responsibility. This may be an area where your mom and I don’t see eye-to-eye, and if that’s the case, you’re going to have to go by my rules when you’re here.” Once I figure out what the hell they are. “If that means you’re done with me, I’ll live with your decision. I’ll put you on a flight back to Pittsburg. I won’t like it”—he gave her shoulders a quick squeeze—“but I’ll do it, because I have to be the grown-up.”

She sniffed and scrubbed her wet cheeks with her hands. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Good.” He pulled her in for another quick hug before opening the passenger door for her. “’Cause I don’t want you to leave.”

But as he stood on the sidewalk watching them drive off, he couldn’t help wondering how much the nervous kid sitting in his office right now had to do with her wanting to stay.

You thought she hung around here all day because of you. Ha.

Fourteen. Christ. Did she even…? He mentally winced. Just because she looked like a young adult in full bloom didn’t mean she was. Did she actually know about sex?

And why, when the word sex came up, did a memory of Lilah sleeping in his office with her long legs propped on his desk and her breasts bared to his greedy eyes automatically form in his mind? Why did his twisted imagination insist on embellishing the memory with a vision of him running his hands over her smooth thighs, running them all the way up and under her skirt and lingering there while he leaned in and closed his lips very, very gently over one tight nipple? And why, in this vision, did Lilah sink her hands in his hair and hold him to her while she moaned, “Yes, Ford. Yes”?

Fuck. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Jen’s number before he turned to go back to The Goose and deal with the other half of this mess. Should he get his gun first?

Probably not. Louis already looked scared enough to swear off sex for the rest of his natural life. And at his age, the poor guy likely didn’t even fully understand what he was swearing off. Shit. Ford rubbed his forehead where a headache pounded like a bar-fight. If he ended up having to give two horny kids a birds-and-bees talk, he’d just as soon use the gun on himself.