Page 10 of Hot Dad Summer

“I think you might be remembering that story a little differently than they told it, kid.” I caught the teen who’d rescued Hank and hugged him quickly, just long enough for it to count but not long enough for his wetness to soak me. “Thank you for rescuing Hank. Here, let me give you a tip.”

Wes growled and gently slapped the kid on the back of the head. “Eyes up, Nick.”

I looked up from prying my money out of the tiny pocket of my dress and looked between the two of them. They were both looking away and they were both blushing. I just shook my head and pulled out a small fold of cash. “Here. Take this. Thank you. I’m sure this won’t be the last time you have to rescue him. Once he finds a treat he likes he sticks to it.”

“Dad, we’re going to the candy store.” Hazel looked at me with hesitant eyes. “Right?”

I nodded. “Duh. Nothing could stop me from getting to the candy store.”

“Not even Hank pooping out five hundred fish?” Charlie bounced in place, the idea invigorating him. “I don’t want to eat poop fish”

“No one’s eating poop fish.” Wes muttered and then seemed to realize there were still people standing around watching us. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

I was about to poke fun at him for being embarrassed by us when I noticed a few people leaning closer together, whispering to each other. Only their whispering carried.

“Wasn’t she with the other Calloway?”

“I heard he skipped town to Europe with some blonde bimbo.”

“Is she staying at Calloway Cove? With his brothers?”

I cleared my throat and nodded at Wes. “Maybe I’ll just walk out by myself… With the kids, I mean.”

He shot the people a dark look but nodded. “Go ahead. Thanks for the lunch.”

I nodded and then shook off the shame trying to settle over my shoulders. I brightened my tone for the kids. “How about we chase Hank down and then hit up the candy store?”

They all cheered and I shot one more look at Wes before hurrying after them. Halfway down the dock I noticed Max standing just outside of the marina store, his eyes still locked on me. His hazel eyes, I thought with a dangerous feeling at the base of my spine.

8

***Daisy***

“Aunt Daisy? Is the cake supposed to look like that?”

I turned from the sink to check on my students and found all three of them crouched in front of the oven like it was a television. The light was on, which explained why the door had been opened four times in ten minutes, and my poor vanilla cake had given up the fight. The middle had sunk low enough to serve soup in.

“Charlie.” I wiped my hands on my apron and joined the huddle. “What did we say about opening the oven?”

“That the cake needs privacy.” He didn’t look guilty. “But I thought I heard it talking to me.”

“Cakes don’t whisper, doofus.” Hazel was at the island with her measuring cups lined up like soldiers, every scoop of flour leveled with the back of a butter knife exactly the way I’d shown her. “That was the oven fan.”

“It said Charlie.”

“It did not say Charlie.”

“It said Charlie, help me it’s too hot in here.”

I fought a laugh and lost. The kitchen was a war zone of flour and cracked eggshells, Poppy had left two perfect white handprints on the back of my dress that I planned to keep forever, and my cake looked like it’d been stepped on. A month earlier, at my bakery, a fallen cake would’ve ruined my whole shift. In the Calloway kitchen it just felt like Tuesday.

“Okay, gather ‘round, my little disasters. Lesson time.” I pulled the cake out and set it on the trivet so we could all mourn together. “What do we do when a bake goes wrong?”

“Cry,” Poppy said solemnly.

“Feed it to Hank,” Charlie said.

“Figure out what happened so it doesn’t happen again,” Hazel said, and then side-eyed Charlie hard enough to knock him over.