Free Beach House No. 9 by Christie Ridgway Page B

again.
    As if she’d reached the end of her rope, Tess clapped one hand over her eyes. The little boys began shoving each other anew, putting more furniture at risk. Rebecca mouthed something—likely another pregnancy threat—and jumped from the sofa to hand her smallest brother over to Griffin. As the teen stalked out of the room, he held the child at arm’s length, then turned to Jane in mute appeal.
    “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Helpless with his own children! Surely that had to be the case, that they belonged to him, because each one had his dark hair, and at least some of them his distinctive blue eyes, not to mention his ability to be appealing and get on her nerves at the very same time. She took the baby from him and jiggled the child as she grabbed the back of one little boy’s shirt. It was a winning technique, because the other automatically followed as she led him down the hall. A small guest room had a TV and remote. She held it out to the larger of the two. “I assume you’re familiar with this device?”
    In a blink, it was snatched out of her hand. In two, they were seated on the bed, their eyes glued to the screen. Private, the Labrador, appeared from somewhere and wiggled his way between them on the mattress. The show they chose wasn’t a cartoon, and she could only hope it wasn’t X-rated—a distinct possibility, she figured, in this house—but, given the kids’ snarled domestic arrangement, maybe they’d seen it all before.
    The baby was now snuffling against her shoulder and gnawing on his fist, so she headed into the kitchen, where she found a cracker. He pounced on it with a show of great delight. As he munched away, she returned to the living room, a box of tissues under her arm.
    It appeared as if all was not resolved. Tess had collapsed on the couch cushions, her face in her hands. Griffin, the callous monster, had retreated to the glass doors, his back turned to the woman, his gaze resting on the ceaseless rumble of the surf.
    Jane could only hope Rebecca wasn’t out looking for a sperm donor.
    Without a word, she took a seat on the couch and passed over the tissues. Tess accepted them with a grateful glance. Then she dried her face. Once it was done, she inhaled a long deep breath and took the now-content baby onto her lap. “Thank you,” she said, hugging her small son to her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I had to get that out of my system.”
    Then her gaze shifted to Griffin, and she raised her voice. “I want to stay here with the kids.”
    He swung around, dismay—or panic?—written all over his face. “I didn’t even invite you to stay for dinner.”
    “Griff—”
    “Tess. I told you I have a lover. I’m with Jane now.”
    Not even for the chance to get this job and regain her reputation was she going along with a lie of this magnitude a moment longer. “I’m not his anything,” she said, ignoring the fierce frown Griffin turned on her. “Believe me.”
    “Oh.” Tess looked from her to the grim-faced man in the corner. “I don’t understand.”
    “Though he said that we’re together,” Jane explained, “it’s not true.”
    Tess blinked, and now that Tess’s eyes were dry, Jane realized they were the same distinctive and bright turquoise as Griffin’s. “That’s fabulous news,” the other woman replied.
    Jane thought it was a little odd to be happy that your ex, the father of your children, had just been lying to you, but she figured Tess’s hopes of getting Griffin back had been renewed.
    “Because love’s a crock and men are beasts,” Tess continued in loud tones, and Jane could see from whom Rebecca had inherited her dramatic presence. The brunette sent a pointed look at Griffin. “Even my brother.”
    Brother?
    Oh. Oh.
    Now feeling stupid, Jane once again glared at the man in the room.
    “What?” he asked with a look of aggrieved innocence.
    But Tess snagged his attention by launching into her reasons for staying at Crescent Cove.