Page 86 of Ardently Yours

She nods. “It’s the ocean.”

“It’s big like an ocean. You don’t go near that water without an adult with you.”

She scowls. “I won’t get drownded. I know how to swim.”

“This is different than the YMCA or the college. There are waves and no lifeguard here. Besides, it’s too cold to get in the water, anyway. You’d freeze your little tootsies off.” I tickle her toes where they peek out of her sandals. “I’ll let you run around if you stay away from the water.”

She points down the beach where, a distance away, two children run unattended along the shoreline. The taller one picks up a stick and hurls it into the water. The younger one laughs and shoves the tall boy toward the breaking waves. “Those kids are allowed.”

I bite my lip. Surely, that isn’t Henry and Gabriel unattended. “You’re not those kids.”

I scan the shoreline, seeking whatever adult should be supervising them.There he is. A man walks at a slight distance from the boys, hard to spot at first glance, but swiveling his head in constant vigilance, watching both the boys and their surroundings.

Behind me, a door closes, and steps sound on the porch stairs. I turn and Bronnie slides to the ground in my lax grip.

My cheeks ache from the strength of my smile.

Arden grins down at me, lighter brown streaks glint in his dark hair, a result of time spent in the sun. Lines crinkle at the outer edges of his twilight-blue eyes, and if his perfectly straight white teeth don’t actually blind me with their sparkle, it’s a very near thing. A few days of beard growth covers his jaw, an attempt to change his “look.”

I reach up to scrub my fingers through the unfamiliar facial hair. “I like the disguise.”

He winks, then opens his arms. I launch myself at him, and he folds me against his strong body, cradling my head with his palm and tucking me under his chin.

“Charlotte Miller,” he murmurs against my hair. “You’re here.”

I choke on a laugh, then sniffle.

“Are you crying?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m happy.”

“Me too.”

“Mister Arden.” Bronnie’s voice pipes beside us, and I step out of Arden’s hug. Her entire hand wraps around two of his fingers.

Dropping into a crouch, Arden brings himself closer to eye level with my daughter. “Bronwyn Elizabeth Miller. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Bronnie eyes him with sudden narrow-eyed suspicion. “What’s that mean?”

“It means I’m really, really happy you’re here. It’s how ship captains speak to pirate princesses.”

She dimples at him. “Argh, matey. It’s a honor, matey.”

Arden nods with a smile, then rubs the heel of his hand under his left eye.

“You smell good.” Bronnie’s words sound like an accusation.

Arden glances up at me. “Thank you?”

“No. Because Uncle Travis smells like machine oil and stinky cigarettes, and Grandad smells like snuff and wood chips, but you smellgood.”

“Ah. Do you dislike the way I smell?”

I wait nervously for her judgment as Bronnie watches him for long moments, eyes narrowed to crystal blue slits and pink lips pursed. Finally, she nods approvingly. “I’ll get used to it. You should tell Uncle Travis how to smell good.”

Arden glances up at me, and I suppress my smile. Teresa’s husbandcoulduse some guidance in that direction.

“Thank you for my flowers and my pirate ship,” Bronnie says, exactly the way we practiced in the car.

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