Page 40 of Single-Minded
Scarlet squealed and said, “They’re shaped like llamas!”
“I want a Betty one,” Nova said, her eyes on the chocolate frosted.
“The white ones are Esmerelda,” Sienna said, helping herself to one of those.
“Can we have one of each?” Scarlet asked.
“Pick one to start,” I said, knowing I’d give in to seconds eventually.
Once the girls were munching on their dessert, I sat next to Jagger and held the box out. His brows rose as he surveyed the cookies and laughed.
“Whoever thought up making them llama shaped is a genius,” he said. “That’s a marketing coup.”
He chose a chocolate one. I took a vanilla. Someone had decorated them with facial details including heart-shaped sunglasses and a rainbow-sprinkled blanket on each llama’s back.
“I didn’t think you liked the girls to have a lot of sugar,” Jagger said so the girls, who were jabbering ninety miles an hour between them, couldn’t hear.
“I wanted to give them a treat. Dad guilt lives. I’m working on that extra project in the evenings and on weekends. Just really got started on it this week, so they had a sitter Tuesday and Thursday evening. Tomorrow they’re going to my mom’s for the weekend.”
“So you got them a dozen cookies.” Jagger shrugged. “No judgment from me. These are good.”
“It’s a relief they like their babysitters so much. It seems like babysitters are raising my kids instead of me this summer.”
“You’re working your a—butt off to provide for them. When you’re not working, you’re taking them on boat rides and hikes in the woods. They’re lucky to have you, West.” He looked at the sky and the clock. “We’ve got about an hour of daylight left. Ready to make our way back? I’ll take the long way.”
“Sounds good.”
“Who’s ready to fly?” Jagger asked the girls.
All three of them raised their hands and laughed and made little-girl happy sounds. Once they were seated, we took off across the water, waving at fellow boaters. The number of boats out here had dropped to half while we were anchored in the cove.
“You think they’d like to go by the hotel?” Jagger asked.
“Not a doubt in my mind,” I said.
The girls loved peering up at the sprawling veranda of the impressive Marks and peeping at the guests of the fancy hotel.
As we neared the shore, Jagger slowed down to wake speed.
“It’s the Marks!” Scarlet yelled loudly enough for every last person on that veranda to hear her.
The property was crawling with people, from the upper-level balconies to the veranda and all the way down to the docks.
“People-watching the rich folks is always a good time,” Jagger muttered with a grin.
My gaze strayed down the shore, trying to make out Presley’s dock.
“Speaking of rich folks, if you keep going toward Max Dawson’s, I can show the girls Presley’s house.”
“Presley,” he repeated. “How’s that going?”
“Mostly smooth sailing. Weather’s not a factor so we’re on schedule so far.”
Presley’s house was about ten expansive lots down from the hotel’s property. Max lived two houses farther down from her, on the side toward the marina, so we’d go by both.
“Hey, girls,” I said once we were past the hotel and into the residential area. “Want to see the house I’ve been working on?”
“Miss Presley’s house?” Nova asked.
