“I need another drink,” Kimmi said. “Matt, get me a—”
“Excuse me.” Rob shot out a hand to a passing waiter and took care of it.
Matt continued sweeping the area out of habit until his eyes landed on a table a few yards away and stopped. The woman he hadn’t met on the beach and all four kids sat directly in his line of sight three tables away. They were all dressed for dinner—dry clothes instead of bathing suits, sandals instead of flip-flops.
“Did you see that one, Matt?”
Kimmi was talking movies. “No,” he answered absently.
They got their food, and he ate his steak and lobster as the conversation continued around him, but throughout dinner he kept one eye on Jack’s mother. She’d made the sign of the cross and led the kids in the Catholic dinner prayer, one he’d said at every meal eaten in his house since birth. She smiled a lot, laughed a lot, as she worked the table with calm efficiency. It was hard to look anywhere else.
“Well, I’d rather go to The Bouncer,” Kimmi was saying. “The guy on the radio said that’s where the beautiful people go. What do you think, Matt?”
“I don’t care.” Because he had no intention of going anywhere with Kimmi. She’d almost caused a brawl at the bar last night. Not surprising. That’s what happened when you rubbed yourself up against too many poles of testosterone. Rob would have to entertain them tonight. His cousin had dug this hole and he didn’t seem to mind being ass deep.
Matt tuned them out as the band played, the guitar and violin creating an inviting beat. A silky male voice carried the tune, luring guests to the makeshift dance area.
Jack’s mother had taken the kids down to the patio. Matt sipped his beer and watched. Built like a dancer, with small bones and long lines, she moved to the music with the same grace. Not a girl trying to attract attention but a woman who couldn’t help being sexy.
And she fascinated him.
Her sleeveless top revealed narrow shoulders and sun-kissed skin. A short white skirt flowed around her knees, showing off sexy legs and strappy heels. But it was the way she swayed and spun, cradling the smallest boy to her chest, her cheek lying on his blond head, that held him fixated.
Jack galloped over, waving his arms wildly, and she threw her head back, the sound of her laughter stolen by the wind. He still didn’t know her name. And she was still alone.
The little boy wiggled out of her arms and she took the girls by the hand. They twirled on the ends of her fingers, admiring the way their silky sundresses flared. Matt imagined dancing with her, as he’d seen his brothers do with their wives. How her small body would feel in his arms, the children laughing and dancing around them.
“What are you staring at?” Kimmi sent him a narrow-eyed glare then stretched her skinny neck to peer over the balustrade. She shook her head and rolled her eyes when she didn’t see anything of interest.
And she wouldn’t. A mother dancing with her children wouldn’t be of interest to someone like her.
But it was to him.
When the torturous dinner finally ended, the foursome made their way down the wide stone steps, which deposited them on the brick patio.
The band played an upbeat country tune and Rob spun Brittney into his arms. Matt wouldn’t cave to Kimmi’s orders to join her on the dance floor. She finally gave up and went off in pursuit of a willing male, leaving him free to sit at the weathered outdoor bar alone.
He nursed his drink and searched the crowd until his eyes locked on their target. She sat at the top of three wide steps dividing the upper patio from the pool. His chest clenched along with other parts, watching the woman lick the last of her ice cream cone. The bourbon burned his throat as he tossed back the remainder.
Jack finished his ice cream sandwich and moved on to the wrapper, while both girls worked on orange Push-Ups, Matt’s personal favorite. The little one steadied himself with a hand on his mother’s shoulder, looking like he’d fallen face first into a puddle of chocolate.
It was a lucky man who had a woman like that, kids like that. His brothers did, but he’d made different choices. Different promises.
She rose from the steps and nodded to Jack, handing her wrapper to the youngest boy. The two boys raced toward the trash bin completely unaware of their collision course with a fast-moving country line dance.
In a flash, one corner of the dance floor turned into something resembling a freeway pileup. A short, plump woman took a two-step and plowed into Jack, who knocked into the toddler, who reached out his chocolate-covered fingers to break his fall. And he did. Then slid to the ground, wiping his ice-cream-smeared face as he went…all the way down Kimmi’s white pants.
Matt was already moving as diva number two twisted to examine the damage. He picked up the little boy, sprawled and whimpering on the brick.
“Oh. My. God. That little…” Kimmi sputtered, struggling to name what she was looking at, “baby ruined my pants. Where the hell is its mother?”
The boy hid his sticky face in Matt’s neck as his mother took a step forward.
Kimmi whirled on her. “Is that your frickin’ kid?”
The woman reached for her son, but the boy clung to him tightly.
“It was an accident. He didn’t—”
“He’s an accident! Jeez. Why don’t you practice a little birth—”
Matt stepped between the two women, facing off with Kimmi. “Stop talking.”
“I’ll be happy to pay for dry cleaning.”