10. Brighton

Iwake to the sounds of seagulls outside my window, squawking obscenely loud as they hunt for their early morning breakfast. I throw the covers off, preparing myself for my morning rush to my office, conveniently located behind the check-in counter at the main resort. Once there, I'll go straight to my desk, where I'll stay for hours on end, not even bothering to take a break for meals. When I do eat, it will naturally be at my desk.

The ache in my muscles stops me cold as I roll to the side, ready to get my day started. That's when last night, all of last week's events, comes rushing back in a whoosh, reminding me that I sold the resort to a famous hockey player I used to pick on, and just because things aren't messed up enough, I decided to sleep with last night.

Well done, Brighton. Well done.

Actually. A little laugh bubbles up in my throat. Last night's sex was very well done indeed and I believe the rules we laid out were clear. We're secretly going to have more sex. Honestly with the rumor mill in Sparrow Springs, I don't want people thinking I'm sleeping with the boss, either to keep my job and home, or to get my old position back.

Life really isn't easy for female entrepreneurs. Heck, how many people from our younger years are going to think this is all about revenge? Noah buying the place and demoting me to the position of nanny when I'm so much more qualified for other positions in the company. Fine, I realize it's true, but it's embarrassing to think others might know it too.

But right now, instead of wallowing in my loss, or the fact that people are going to look down on me because I didn't have the brains or the wherewithal to save the resort without selling it, I'm going to damn well enjoy this much needed break and enjoy my new position…every single one of them.

I push to my feet and walk to my window, pulling the curtains back to take in the early morning sunshine beating down on the early morning swimmers, joggers and sunbathers.

The early bird gets the worm.

As my father's words of wisdom come rushing back, I spot a familiar figure in the distance. I narrow my gaze at the man running effortlessly in the thick sand. Is that… No, it couldn't be, even though I have a hard time believing there's another man with a body as hard and gorgeous as Noah's, but there must be. Noah wouldn't leave Camryn alone in bed and go out for a jog. My own dad might have left me to fend for myself after Mom abandoned met, but Noah isn't that kind of dad. It can't be him. Unless he's running from a spider. I chuckle at that thought. How can Noah Jones, J-bone, be afraid of an itsy-bitsy spider? I don't know but something about his vulnerabilities make me like him a whole lot more, and believe me, I already liked him a lot.

I drop the curtain, take a fast shower and tug on a pink, floral sundress, remembering we had pancakes planned this morning. Sure, if Camryn helps, my dress is going to get wet and dirty by the time I finish breakfast, but I don't care. Plus, I—and by I, mean Noah and me—already established we like wet and dirty.

I open my door and listen for noise from across the hall. When my ears are met with silence, I debate my next move. What if Camryn and Noah are still asleep? Should I make pancakes and deliver? I have no idea if Noah bought groceries. Taking a chance, I pad across the hall, and lightly tap on the door. I listen, and wait, and just when I'm about to head back to my side of the house, a very sleepy Camryn pulls open the door and my heart warms when I see she's clutching Charlie.

"Good morning," I greet in a cheerful voice, and her face lights up.

"Ms. Brighton."

I take in her mess of blonde hair, and the way her nightgown is twisted around her tiny hips, and bend to tuck a few loose strands behind her ears. "Did I wake you?" She nods, and as she rubs her tired little blue eyes, I point to the open door of my suite. "I can come back later if you want to go back to bed."

"Uh un." Her eyes go wide, like she has a huge secret. "I want pancakes and I want lumps."

"Okay," I say with a laugh. I've never met a child who wanted lumpy pancakes before. What the heck is that all about?

She snatches my hand. "Let's go wake Daddy."

She drags me through the living room and down the hall and as I pass by that's when I notice just how sparse his place is. Most of the boxes have been unpacked, so it's not like he's yet to hang pictures or put out personal items that hold meaning.

Noah's door is cracked open a bit. He must have left it open to hear Camryn after he walked me back to my end of the house last night, right after our conversation in the den. I was surprised at how quickly the conversation ended, to be honest. One minute he was smiling and aroused, the next he seemed a bit somber, and wanting to call it a night. In the end, I chalked it up to him being tired after the move and having to get up early with Camryn.

"Daddy. Daddy. Daddy." Camryn shoves his door open, runs as fast as she can and lands on top of her sleeping father. He groans and rolls and I suspect her knee might have landed in parts unknown—well, not unknown to me. Not after last night, anyway. I steal a glance around. Last night I was too busy with other things to notice how sparse his bedroom is too. It definitely needs a woman's touch.

"Camryn, Bean, what are you doing up so early?" He holds her tight, his big hands hugging her to him, unaware of my presence, and my heart melts into a pile of goo at my feet as he kisses the top of her head. There so much love in the room—between them—it's palpable, beautiful and while I love it, I can't help but feel a tinge of envy, never having had such a close relationship with my own father.

What would it be like to have a child, a family of my own? My hand goes to my stomach, and a wave of longing grips me. My biological clock is ticking louder than ever, compliments of the sight before me.

"Ms. Brighton is going to make me lumpy pancakes," Camryn practically shouts, snapping me out of my reverie.

"Oh Bean, we don't need to wake Ms. Brighton." He lightly taps her nose and she giggles. "And remember what I told you about lumpy pancakes last night."

I stand a little straighter, intrigued. What did he tell her about lumpy pancakes? I heard a bit of their conversation, but nothing about pancakes. I lean in to hear more, but don't get to find out the magic, or lack thereof, behind lumpy pancakes, because Camryn starts jumping on the bed.

"Ms. Brighton is here. Ms. Brighton is here. We can have lumpy pancakes."

"What?" Noah asks. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up and I inch back, worried that I'm invading their privacy and a special moment between them. Dark eyes meet mine and heat up even more as they race down the length of my flirty floral sundress.

"Hey," he says, his voice an octave deeper as he adjusts the blankets around his hips.

Ugh, this is awkward. "Sorry, I didn't mean to?—"

"It's okay."

I wave my hand behind me. "For some reason, I thought you two were early risers, and I knocked, and actually I thought I'd spotted you jogging near the ocean…" Stop rambling, Brighton.

"You're a morning person, huh?" His smile calms me, and I exhale as I pull myself together.

"Yes, and I wasn't sure what time you guys were up and I didn't want to miss breakfast."

"Lumpy pancakes," Camryn shouts and when I arch a curious brow at Noah, he shakes his head, conveying without words that I don't want to know.

I laugh at Camryn's burst of energy. "Does she always greet you like that?"

"Yes, and it's nice, except when…" He points down. "Foot meets…" He lets his words fall off, and I grin.

"That happens often, huh?"

He cringes, a pained look in his eyes. "More often than you'd think."

I laugh at that. "Ouch." Camryn continues to jump on the bed. "Hey Camryn. Look at the pillow. Do you see the sp…" Noah goes deathly still and Camryn watches me. "Sparkles," I explain pointing to the pillow. "They must be from your nighty." I grin at Noah. "Did you think I was going to say spider?" Noah shakes his head at me, his eyes dark and stormy, conveying a message that I'm going to pay for that.

"I see sparkles," Camryn shouts.

"Your pancakes," I continue. "Do you like them…" I open my eyes wide. "Sp…" Camryn slows her jump. "Spicy?"

"Dead," Noah mouths the word to me and I grin.

"Pancakes aren't spicy," Camryn announces and jumps from the bed. "Come on, you two." She rushes past me, and her footsteps slap the floor as she runs down the hall.

"Really, Brighton?"

"Sorry," I chuckle. "Couldn't help myself."

"That's okay. That's what I'll say in response after I fuck you six ways to Sunday." My body quivers as he shifts, a low groan catching in his throat as he cups his balls. "Shit. I'm probably not going to be able to have more kids if she keeps this up."

"You're going to have to wear a cup to bed."

"Good idea. I'll grab one from my locker next practice." I laugh, but it dies an abrupt death as he pushes the blankets off, giving me a lovely view of his body. My gaze drops to his boxers, which hug him to perfection. I blatantly stare as he goes to his closet and pulls out a pair of sweats. He tugs them on and ties them at the waist. He runs his fingers through his mess of hair and my body warms.

I stand a little straighter. "You look like you need coffee." I gesture with a nod toward the hall. "Do you have any?"

He shrugs on a t-shirt as Camryn screams for us. He winces. "I need about ten cups." His phone pings, and he snatches it up from his nightstand. He reads something and shakes his head.

"Is everything okay?"

"Fucking Sage," he tells me. "Now that the guys know I have a nanny, they're begging me to come out with them."

"Oh." I swallow the weird lump pushing into my throat. "You should go. It's Saturday. I can look after Camryn. It's not a problem. I don't have any plans."

He angles his head, his dark eyes boring into me. "Last night we talked about rules, Sunshine."

"Right." I nod repeatedly, even though I have no idea what he's getting at.

He comes closer, glances over my shoulder, and when he sees that the hall is empty, he puts his mouth close to my ear. "We probably should have talked more about the rules of fucking."

"Okay."

"I only fuck one woman at a time. If you and I are doing this, we're exclusive while we are. Are you in agreement? You don't fuck any other guys while you're with me?"

A wave of euphoria washes over me. He wants to be exclusive—while we're doing it. "I can…get behind that."

"Good, and speaking of behind," he taps my ass. "Get a move on it, and for the record, you do have plans tonight." I open my mouth about to ask what he's talking about when he gives me a grin so full of heat and promise I nearly orgasm on the spot.

"Right."

He taps my ass again and a hard quiver of want goes through me. "Now let's go see to those lumpy pancakes."

"Right, sure." I force my legs to move, and he's close behind me as we walk down the hall. We cut through the living room and as we approach the kitchen, I ask, "What's with the lumpy pancakes?"

He chuckles. "Far too often the pancakes I serve Camryn have lumps, so I told her they were wish lumps."

"You did not?"

He shrugs. "What? We tell our kids Santa is real. We can't have wish lumps?" I laugh and he gives me a sheepish look. "I panicked."

"Then please, let me make the pancakes this morning."

"She's going to want lumps," he warns as we approach the kitchen, the sounds of bells and whistles and beeps and horns reaching my ears.

"What's she wishing for?" I ask quietly and slow my steps. He scrubs his face, and when he hesitates, I put my hand on his arm. "If you don't want to tell?—"

"A mother."

I nod as my heart squeezes. "Right." I glance into the kitchen to see Camryn at the table, playing with an electronic toy with the volume on full blast. "Then I will do my best to make her lumpy pancakes."

Noah opens and closes a few cupboards. "I can't remember where I put anything." I follow behind him and help, our bodies touching and bumping as we search. I steal a glance at Camryn, who is too enthralled with her game to see the lightening strikes between us. I bend to check the lower cupboard. "Found it," I say and when Noah's growl reaches my ears, I grin. I stand and put the pan on the stove. "Now where is the flour?"

"Flour?" He reaches into the pantry. "I use a mix."

"Uh, and that's why you get lumps."

"That's not the only reason I get lumps," he murmurs, and adjusts his sweatpants. I bite my cheek to keep from laughing, loving the way I seem to mess with him.

"Fine, I'll use the mix today. Make sure you get flour on your next visit to the grocery store." He produces a bowl and goes to work on coffee as I prepare pancakes for three, which is far more fun than making them for one, which is probably why I never do it.

When the coffee is done, he hands me a cup and I grin. "Peachy." He rolls his eyes. "I'm surprised the guys don't call you peach instead of Jonesburger." I flip the pancake, worried that it doesn't have any lumps. "Why do they call you that anyway?" I pause for a second. "Maybe I should call you peach."

"Don't you dare," he warns with a laugh. "They call me that because one time after practice, when I was a rookie, I scarfed down a hamburger in record time." Another roll of his eyes. "That's all it took. One hamburger. You do one thing and they never let you live it down."

"Even the commentators call you that."

He cocks a brow as he reaches for the plates. "I didn't know you watched."

Busted.

I brush it off like it's nothing, like I'm not glued to the TV when the Bucks play. "Dad used to have it on in the background at times. It's not like I'm a fan or anything."

"Sure," he mocks.

"Fine, some of the guys look pretty good in their suits before a game. A girl can admire that, right?"

He pulls out the silverware and sets it on the table. "That's what you like? A guy in a suit?"

"Sure, and I mean it's not like I can admire you guys in your huge costumes."

His jaw drops. I put Camryn's pancake on a plate. "Costumes?"

"Whatever you call what you wear."

"How about uniform?"

"Sure, but they're big and bulky. I mean, it's not like you're a football player in tight pants. Now that I can get behind."

"Jesus," he curses quietly and picks up Camryn's plate.

"Wait, do you have any fruit or whipped cream? I love whipped cream. It's my weakness."

He eyes me like I might have a very specific use for the whipped cream and now it's my turn to roll my eyes at him.

"Not even in your wildest dreams."

He winks at me, and I'm aware that he's keeping everything light and flirtatious between us. If he thinks he needs to remind me what this is and what this isn't, he's wrong. I know full well what's between us and I'm not about to mistake it for anything other than revenge sex. Which is great because that's all I want, the sex not the revenge. No way do I want a ready-made family with a guy who is likely still in love with his ex.

"In my fantasies, you mean," he whispers.

Does Noah fantasize about me? I can't imagine he has. I wasn't nice to him in high school and he has an arena full of puck bunnies that would be happy to fill his bed and thoughts.

"That's a no?" I ask.

"Yes on fruit, and no on whipped cream, but I'll add it to my grocery list." He opens the fridge and hands me some blueberries and strawberries, which I wash and arrange on Camryn's pancake to make a happy face.

He examines it as I place it in front of Camryn. "Cute."

"Ms. Brighton, I love it," Camryn squeals. She cuts into it quickly, pulling it apart. A frown tugs her lips down, until she finds a lump.

She takes a big bite and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, my heart jumps into my throat because I have the sneaking suspicion that the mother she just wished for was…me.