Page 47 of Spin Control

A few minutes ago, Todd roused himself from his pool chair and I thought he might actually join his family in their painting activity. But then he whispered something in Jane’s ear that had a blush crossing her cheeks and led her to the stairs, the intent obvious.

As Eddie finger-paints something akin to a Rothko, Emma creates perfect little daisies, and Ellie takes an approach that would make Jackson Pollock proud, I consider my options. I don’t have to stay here. But if I leave, that will likely give Todd exactly what he wants—and I refuse to do that.

My phone buzzes on the table beside me, and I only feel a little bit bad when I hope it’s a work emergency that requires my immediate attention. But it turns out to be an entirely different kind of emergency.

WES GRANT

how’s cape cod

I ignore the small thrill lighting up my chest and move directly to the more important question of how the hell does he know where I am?

But then I remember: Todd said it in front of Wes, right before I lost my mind. I haven’t let myself think about that night. Though going to Wes’s room took the edge off, I should never have done it. The fact that he’s texting me is precisely why.

I have to put an end to this.

Do not contact me unless you have a work-related message.

WES GRANT

are you going to punish me if i disobey you

Well, hell. There’s no denying the way my stomach flips and amusement pulses through me. But I shouldn’t find this amusing. I shouldn’t feel excited by bratty behavior. I never have before. But there’s something about Wes that—

No. I’m not thinking about this.

Especially since in the span of sixty seconds, Ellie has made Eddie her new canvas. He’s screech-laughing as she covers his face in blue and green blobs, much to Emma’s distress. “Aunt Lizzy, make them stop!”

“I’m face painting! Like at the fair!” Ellie says. “Eddie likes it!”

I freeze. Kids have never been my forte. Plus, I have no idea what Jane would do in this scenario.

“Stop!” Emma shrieks, and that snaps me out of my uncertainty. I may not know how to gentle-parent like Jane, but I do know how to handle a burgeoning crisis.

“Ellie,” I say, putting a bit of command in my voice. “When you’re done with face painting, you’ll be in charge of washing Eddie’s face.”

“Will you take a picture of my masterpiece first?” Ellie asks, immediately negotiating. Her instinct is actually impressive.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she says easily.

Emma’s expression is still pinched, and boy, do I get it.

Learning that things won’t always go according to your plan is a hard lesson. It’s something I’ll never truly embrace and that I dislike greatly. I need people to listen to me, to respect me, to follow my authority without question. It’s why I do the job I do. And it’s definitely why I can only come when I’m telling a man what he can and can’t do in bed.

‘Except that’s not entirely true anymore, is it?’ a voice whispers in my head.

I grit my teeth.

“I’ll help wash Eddie’s face,” Emma says. “Otherwise, Ellie will turn the bathroom into a water park.”

I nod approvingly. “Good plan.”

I’m guarding Jane’s massive beach bag as she art directs her kids, when my phone buzzes.

It should be update from Arjun. He said he’d get edits back today on the profile he wrote about Martine, and I’m very curious if the angle he and I discussed is going to make it to print.

But when I look at my phone, I nearly scream.