Dating a Single Dad by Kris Fletcher - Comeback Cove 01 - Dating a Single Dad Page B

volunteered to look after Millie for a while at nights so I can get more done around here. Mills doesn’t know that yet, but she likes Brynn, so it seemed like an easy, convenient solution.”
    “Oh.”
    There was such doubt in Heather’s voice that he instinctively tensed, bracing himself against her objections.
    “Well,” she said after a lengthy pause. “That... Okay, I guess I can see... She’s good with Mills?”
    “Very.”
    “And you’ve checked her out?”
    Oh, hell, yeah. But that was going to stop. Immediately. “She’s Taylor’s cousin. We have work references, obviously, but I can get personal ones if you want. She’s good with Mills.”
    “I guess it makes sense, then.”
    She looked like she wanted to say something more, and he sat up straighter, ready for whatever it might be. But after a second she merely pushed her hair back and sighed. “Okay.”
    He felt like he’d dodged a bullet, and just in time as Millie reappeared with a lopsided clay pot in her hands.
    “Right. So, here’s Millie again. I’ll get out of the way and—”
    “Wait. Hank?”
    He braced himself.
    “Thanks. For calling, and taking care of her and...and everything.”
    He muttered something to cover his surprise and handed the laptop back to Millie.
    Something was up with Heather. He hoped it was that she had settled down and relaxed, but he couldn’t be sure. It made him twitch.
    So did his mother’s interference.
    So did Brynn’s very presence.
    If Millie grew up to be like the other women in his life, he was in for a hell of a ride.

CHAPTER SIX
    F ITTING M ILLIE INTO her schedule worked so well that Brynn was almost afraid to say anything, for fear she’d jinx it. But it was true. She put in a full day of festival work—most of which flew by, because she absolutely loved it—grabbed a bite to eat, usually alone, sometimes with Taylor at a place that held special memories of Ian, then took on Millie duty for an hour or so. Usually, by the time Hank got there, she and Millie were scrambling to finish whatever they had been working on.
    The only fly in the ointment was that she was in Hank’s house. Rather, his home. There were bits of him everywhere she looked, from the jacket that stayed on the back of the rocking chair to the shaving cream in the bathroom to the balled-up socks circling the laundry hamper. It was too easy to picture him walking past on his way to the shower, tossing the socks like a basketball, doing a little cheer when they landed true. Too, too easy to imagine him naked from the waist up, pajama pants riding low on his hips, barefoot and rumpled and ready to be rumpled up some more.
    All in all, it was almost a relief when Saturday night rolled around and she and Taylor headed to Sam’s place for a wild night of harassing Sam, commiserating with his wife, Libby, and cuddling Casey. For a couple of hours she got to forget about misfiring hormones—both hers and Taylor’s—and reveled in the kind of laughter that could only be found among family.
    Except she couldn’t. Because every time Sam leaned over to give Libby a kiss, she remembered standing in the doorway with Hank swaying beside her, drinking her in despite his exhaustion. Every time she and Casey knocked down a block tower she remembered Millie helping him do the same thing at her cabin, remembered teasing Hank in her tiny kitchen and wishing he would kind of fall into her. Every time Sam sat back and laughed—so carefree, so casual, his eyes never leaving Libby as she swatted and scolded and snickered—Brynn found herself wondering how he had done it. They both had grown up in the same screwed-up home, had both been abandoned by their father when life went to hell. Yet here he was. Settled. A damned fine father. Crazy in love.
    It had taken a long and sometimes messed-up road, but Sam truly had it together. In fact, now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the last time he had needed anything more from her than