Storybook Dad. Laura Bradford
kayak with the other. A moment later he had his son settled safely on his back. “And, oh … remember that tip about staying in the center of the boat? That was a good one,” he sputtered through gulps of lake water. “M-maybe you could add a class on kayaking to your company’s lineup.”
Her laugh cut through the sound of his splashing and warmed him in ways he didn’t expect in the chilly water. “I offer kayaking classes all the time, Mark.”
Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, he gestured toward his son, who was pretending Mark was a white horse if the words making their way into his left ear were any indication. “We might want to put Seth in the front row of that particular class. So he’d be sure to catch all the helpful little tips you might decide to share.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she joked as she stopped momentarily to tread water and take a breath. “How are you holding up?”
“We’re fine. My ego, though, hasn’t fared quite as well.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” Nibbling back the full effect of a smile she couldn’t hide, Emily swam between Mark and the kayak, her bikini top clinging to her rounded breasts as she flipped the boat right side up. Then, with lithe grace, she hoisted herself into it before he could register much of anything besides how alluring her legs looked as they broke the surface of the water. “Now hand Seth up to me and we’ve got this.”
Chapter Three
Emily could feel the weight of Mark’s stare as she secured the kayak to the roof of her Jeep, his still-labored breath matching her own. She’d felt it as she’d paddled through the water with Seth safely seated between her legs. She’d felt it as Mark had pulled them onto the beach and plucked his son from the boat for a firm yet loving lecture. She’d felt it as they’d stood dripping on the sand, trying to catch their breath. And she’d felt it as she led the way to the car after he insisted on carrying the kayak.
In fact, the only time she wasn’t aware of him watching was when she was stealing glances in his direction. But she couldn’t help it. Mark Reynolds was easy on the eyes.
“Thanks for making that unexpected swim to help us out. It was above and beyond,” he finally said as she hooked the last clip into place. “One minute he was pointing at a fish and the next … well, you know what happened.”
She couldn’t help it; she laughed. It was either that or get caught enjoying his dripping, shirtless chest even more than she already was. “Kayaks tend to flip a little easier than canoes. It’s why people who are skittish around water tend to shy away from them in favor of a bit more stability.”
“Yeah, I get that now.” He bent to Seth’s level, buying her time to catch her breath. “How about you, little man? You doing okay?”
The boy jumped from foot to foot, the adventure of the past twenty plus minutes further fueling his natural energy. “I had my Floaties on, remember, Daddy?”
She felt Mark’s appreciative glance. “And we have Emily to thank for that, don’t we?” he continued, his attention trained once again on his son’s face. “Did you learn something from that adventure?”
“The lake isn’t as warm as the bathtub.”
“And …”
Seth’s brows furrowed in contemplation. “You should always wear your Floaties?”
“And …”
“Emily is a really good swimmer, just like you, Daddy!”
She tried to cover her ensuing laugh, but Mark’s exasperated eye roll made it next to impossible.
“Yes, Emily is a good swimmer. But didn’t you also learn that it’s better to look at fish from the beach?”
“But I got to get wet!” Seth exclaimed gleefully. “And so did you, Daddy.”
A playful smile stretched across Mark’s mouth. “Yeah, but so did Emily. And she’d still be dry if we hadn’t commandeered her boat.”
“Pizza might make her feel better.”
She looked questioningly at Mark as the four-year-old rattled on. “Daddy said we’d go to Sam’s for pizza when my castle was all done,” he said. “You can come, too, if you want.”
“I—I think I better head home, sweetheart.” Squatting down in front of him, she pushed a strand of wet hair from his forehead, then tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. “It was very nice to meet you, Seth. You are truly the best sand castle maker I’ve ever met.”
“Please, Emily? The pizza is really yummy. It was my mom’s favorite.”
Emily tipped her head to afford herself a better view of Mark, noting the hint of sadness in his face at the mention of his late wife. So much about his taking her class made sense now. The drive to check things off one’s bucket list always intensified after losing a friend or family member to an early death. It was as if the loss served as a wake-up call about the uncertainty and lack of promises in life. She saw it all the time.
Still, such a loss was hard to rationalize when it came to someone as young as Seth. “That sounds like some extra special pizza if it was your mom’s favorite,” she finally said.
“It is! Especially the pepperoni kind.” Leaning forward, Seth brought his mouth to Emily’s ear as if sharing a secret, the excitement in his voice negating any attempt at whispering. “Sometimes, if I smile really big at the waitress lady, she makes the pizza look like a great big smiley face … with funny hair at the top! So please? Won’t you come, too? Pretty, pretty please?”
Gesturing at her damp bikini top and drenched shorts, she scrunched up her nose. “I don’t think the folks at Sam’s Pizza would be too happy to see me in wet clothes.”
A snort of disagreement from the boy’s father brought a warm flush to her cheeks.
“I’m wet, too. So’s my daddy,” Seth argued.
“And Sam’s has outdoor tables,” Mark added.
Slowly she looked from one to the other and back again, the pull for a moment of normalcy making her relent in the end. “Okay. I’m in. It sounds like fun.”
Twenty minutes later, any residual worry over wet clothes and disapproving pizza eaters was gone, in its place the kind of happy-go-lucky fun she’d been craving for months. Any tension that came from being huddled so close to Mark evaporated as Seth kept them entertained with tales from his summer preschool program, most of which came back to a castle in some way.
“The other day? At lunch? I built a great big castle out of everybody’s milk cartons. And then Liam? He’s my bestest friend. He made one out of Pixy Stix during playtime,” Seth said. “But then Tyler—he’s a meany—he came over and kicked Liam’s castle down!”
Seth widened his eyes expectantly at Emily and waited.
“You’re supposed to gasp at the things Tyler does,” Mark whispered in her ear.
“Oh, sorry,” she whispered back, before giving the desired response.
Satisfied, Seth continued. “It’s okay. Me and Liam, we cast a spell on Tyler.”
She glanced at Mark, then back to Seth. “A spell?”
“Uh-huh. And you know what happened?”
Mark paused from taking a drink and narrowed his eyes on his son. “No-o-o … what happened?”
“He got in trouble with Miss Drake. She said she had eyes in back of her head, which means me and Liam are good at casting spells!”
“Then I guess I’d better watch out,” Emily declared. “I don’t want any eyes in any funny places.”
Seth elevated himself onto his knees. “Oh,