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“She’s a lovely girl. Very confident and friendly.”
Zhang Jing beamed. “That’s my Lian.” She surreptitiously glanced at his finger. “Do you have any children?”
“No, although I’d like to someday.”
Bex touched his arm, surprised by the whack of emotion she felt at the thought of him holding a baby. “You’d be an excellent father.”
His lips tugged up, but he seemed unsure, and her silly heart gave an extra thump. “You think?”
“I know,” she assured him.
Zhang Jing’s expression grew curious. “Are you two an item?”
Bex dropped her hand, suddenly aware of how intimate they looked, and stepped away from him. “No, of course not.” She brushed off the question with a laugh, but her voice was too high. “We’re just friends from way back.”
“Friends,” Zhang Jing said, her brow crinkling dubiously. “Uh-huh.”
Fortunately, a flash of movement distracted them. Lian and Izzy had left the bouncy castle and were racing toward them. Lian grabbed her mother’s arm. “There’s face painting,” she exclaimed. “Over by the beach. Can we go?”
“Yes, honey. No need to pull my arm out of the socket.”
“I want to be a fairy,” Izzy told Bex. “Do you think they do fairies, Mum?”
Bex took her hand. “Why don’t we go ask?”
“Okay.” Izzy slotted her other hand into Michael’s so they were walking in a chain. Like a real family might. Bex hoped Izzy hadn’t gotten any ideas into her head about making Michael her daddy. Once or twice over the years, she’d hinted that a particular man might be a nice daddy, especially Logan, who gave her as many shoulder rides as she wanted. Bex hadn’t mentioned it to him, not wanting to frighten him away. Izzy needed positive male role models in her life. Perhaps Michael could play a part there, too. She sometimes feared that even her best efforts to expose Izzy to good men might not make up for what she was missing out on.
They weaved between shrubs, flaxes, and tents, passing a few food stands and a coffee cart, which she made a mental note to return to later. Down where the grass transitioned into sand, two teenage girls had set up a face painting booth. Children occupied the seats, so Izzy and Lian waited—less than patiently—for them to be finished, chattering about what they each wanted done.
“Are they always this high energy?” Michael asked above their heads.
Bex laughed. “It’ll wear off in a few hours, then they’ll crash. When that happens, they get cranky.”
The children who’d finished being painted left and Izzy and Lian rushed to take their places, arguing loudly over who got to be the purple fairy and who would have to be pink.
Bex sensed Michael move closer, and felt the air shift as he ducked his head to speak where no one else could hear. “Will it bother you if I take a photo of them?” he asked. “It’s just…” He trailed off and she turned to face him, getting a whiff of something lemony. Her breath caught in her chest. Being near him was a bad idea. He was so gorgeous, his blue eyes like a clear pool she could dive into, and when he wet his full lips, she wanted to sink her teeth into one and see how he reacted. She suspected he wasn’t nearly as civilized as he liked people to think.
“This is a special memory for me,” he finished with a grimace, as if the admission cost him something. “I want to remember it.”
“That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” she whispered, reminding herself that one did not lustfully attack their daughter’s uncle. “Go ahead.”
He snapped a picture on his phone, then aimed it at Bex.
She threw her hands up to cover her face. “No, no, no. Get that thing away from me.”
“Come on.” A soft smile tugged at those sensual lips. “Just one.”
“Nope, give it up.” She could understand him wanting photos of Izzy, but her? She was another matter. He was probably just fooling around, but if she let herself believe she meant something to him, she was on a train to Hurtsville.
A small hand grabbed her arm, and she jumped. “Mummy, what do you think?”
Izzy had little pink wings painted on her cheeks and flowers across her forehead.
“Beautiful, darling.”
Lian joined her, and the two looked up at Michael. “Mr. Briggston, will you get your face painted, too?” Izzy asked.
“We’ve never seen a man with a painted face,” Lian explained, “except clowns, and we don’t like them.”
