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9
Brit sucked in a breath. She’d chosen a fifties pin-up style one-piece red and white polka dot swimsuit. When she’d first seen herself, she’d settled for cute. But now, at the sight of a two-piece string bikini and cellulite-free Candi, Brit wished she had swam with the cover-up on herself.
Damn. Slim and fit, Candi had the type of biceps that would make an average personal trainer’s seem flabby. Brit hoped the tan would at least hide the stretch marks on her back, a nice memento she inherited from her pregnancy. She sighed, then looked at Damian’s imposing form.
He had the good sense to keep a rash guard shirt on, but the white fabric clung to his wet skin, and that along with the dark blue swim trunks showcased the delicious and muscly body that could have been sculpted by a Renaissance artist. A hot wave spread across her cheeks, because she’d seen what he looked like naked. Seen and felt him inside her. She quivered. Down girl.
She took the glass of champagne to her lips, enjoying a niece moment of relaxation. They’d sailed smoothly until Damian had found a nice place to drop the anchor, near an area with a couple of coves. Not too close to shore. Damian mentioned the small island not too far from them belonged to a patient of his. With calm waters and a nice breeze, the day was picture perfect.
Trevor slept in the portable crib inside, in the covered area and if he woke up, the camera would alert Damian’s phone. Amanda had just gotten out of the water and played with her dolls, brushing their hair. If that little girl didn’t grow up to be a fierce hairstylist or work in fashion, Brit would change her name.
When she looked for Libby, she found her sitting near the ladder, glancing at her feet. She walked up to her daughter, knowing it always took her longer to get acquainted in the water than the other kids. Once, a couple years earlier, she jumped in a public pool without her floaties, and thank goodness, nothing had happened but the quick event had been enough to instill fear in her little one.
Before she made it to her side, she heard Damian’s footsteps as he climbed up the ladder and sat next to her.
“Hey Libby. Let’s go swim.”
Libby shrugged. “I suck at it.”
“Libby, language,” Brit said, making herself a mental note not to use inappropriate words in front of her daughter. One of these days, she’d use them at school and get in trouble.
Damian flashed her a mischievous grin. “It sucks when you’re not good at it,” he said to Libby. “But it doesn’t have to.”
“What do you mean?” Libby asked.
He stretched out his hand. “Come with me. I’ll show you a couple tricks I’ve learned.”
Libby glanced at his hand, then her gaze darted to Brit. The unsureness in her eyes squeezed Brit’s heart. Her daughter didn’t like to show vulnerability and, not having a father or grandfather in her life, wasn’t used to accepting help from male figures.
“Try it, honey,” she said to her daughter.
“Okay.” Libby took his hand in hers and stood, and followed him down the metal ladder.
“You can do it, Libby,” Amanda shouted from the background.
Brit fought the urge to dip into the water and stood against the railing, watching Damian patiently teach her daughter to swim. It’s not that she didn’t know how; she needed to build her confidence again to do it on her own. Damian made her touch the boat then swim back to him, and at first she hesitated, then kicked her legs.
Twenty minutes in, she was making bets with him to touch the boat first.
Brit lifted her hand to her mouth, enjoying the moment. Damian was a damn good parent and guy. He was patient, kind and—
“Nice,” said a female voice behind her. She angled her head to recognize Candi, who stepped closer until they stood side by side. “Your daughter is very cute. Dad not in the picture?”
Eddie had moved out of their shared apartment two months after learning about her pregnancy, and she hadn’t made any attempts to get him back in her life. He’d called once, and left a message with a slurry voice so she’d assumed he had a few too many tequila shots and wanted to reminisce. Not once had he asked about Libby, which made her hate him even more. “No.”
“Damian seems like a good father.”
“Yes, he is.”
Candi fixed her sunglasses. “Yeah. Fathers are important.”
“Do you get along with yours?” Brit asked.
Candi nodded. “Yes. My dad is pretty cool. You?”
“Out of the picture,” she said, lifting her hands. “Guess it runs in my family.”
“You’re cute.” Candi chuckled.
