Brambleberry Shores: The Daddy Makeover / His Second-Chance Family

Sage looked to Eben for elucidation.

“The caregiver the agency in Portland sent over was…unacceptable.” Eben raked a hand through his wavy hair, messing it even more.

“She was mean to me,” Chloe said. “She wouldn’t let me walk out to the beach, even when I told her my dad said it was okay. She didn’t believe me so I called my dad and she got mad at me and pulled my hair and said I was a bad word.”

From that explanation, she gathered the caregiver hadn’t appreciated an eight-year-old going over her head.

“Oh, dear. A bad word, huh?”

Chloe nodded. “She called me a spoiled little poop, only she didn’t say poop.”

“I’m sorry,” Sage said, trying to figure out exactly what part she played in this unfolding drama.

“I didn’t care about the name but I didn’t like that she pulled my hair. She didn’t have to be so mean. I think she was a big poop.”

“Chloe,” her father said sternly.

“Well, I do. So I called my dad again and told him what she did and he came right over from The Sea Urchin and told her to leave right now. He said a bad word, too, but I think she deserved it.”

She gave a quick glance at her father, then mouthed H-E-L-L.

Sage had to fight a smile. “I see,” she said. She found it admirably unexpected that Eben would rush to his daughter’s defense.

“And now the place that sent her doesn’t have anybody else to take care of me.”

Sage raised her eyebrows and glanced at Eben. “I suppose the temp pool is probably pretty shallow right now since the tourist season is heading into full gear.”

“I’m figuring that out,” he answered. “The agency says it will be at least tomorrow or the next day before they can find someone else. In the meantime, I’ve got conference calls scheduled all day.”

Sage waited to hear what all of this had to do with her, though she was beginning to guess. Her speculation was confirmed by his next words.

“I can’t expect Chloe to entertain herself in a strange place while I’m occupied. I remembered you mentioning a summer camp and hoped that you might have room for one more.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. We’re completely full.”

The center had always maintained a strict limit of twelve campers per session to ensure an adequate adult-to-student ratio. Beyond that, she had her hands full this year. Three of the children had learning disabilities and she had already figured out after the first few hours that two more might be on their way to becoming behavior problems if she couldn’t figure out how to channel their energy.

Even as she thought of the trouble to her staff if she added another camper, her mind raced trying to figure out how to accommodate Eben and his daughter.

“I was afraid you would say that.” He smiled stiffly. “Thank you for your time anyway. We’ll try to figure something else out.”

He looked resigned but accepting. His daughter, on the other hand, appeared close to tears. Her shoulders slumped and her chin quivered.

“But I really wanted to come to camp with Sage,” she wailed. “It sounded super, super fun! I don’t want to stay in a boring house all day long while you talk on the phone!”

“Chloe, that’s enough. If the camp doesn’t have room for you, that’s the way it is.”

“You think I’m a little poop, too, don’t you?” Chloe’s chin was definitely quivering now. “That’s why you don’t want me in your camp. You don’t like me, either.”

“Oh, honey, that’s not true. We just have rules about how many children we can have in our camp.”

“I would be really good. You wouldn’t even know I’m here. Oh, please, Sage!”

She studied them both—Chloe so dejected and her father resigned. She had to wonder how much pride he had forced himself to swallow for his daughter’s sake to bring her here and ask Sage for a favor.

How could she disappoint them?

“We’re at capacity,” she finally said, “but I think we can probably find room to squeeze in one more.”

“You mean it? Really?” The girl looked afraid to hope.

Sage nodded and Chloe squealed with delight and hugged her again. “Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Sage hugged her in return. “You’re welcome. You’re going to have to work hard and listen to me and the other grown-ups, though.”

“I will. I’ll be super super good.”

Sage glanced up to meet Eben’s gaze and found him watching her with that same odd, slightly thunderstruck expression she had seen him wear earlier that morning. She didn’t fathom it—nor did she quite understand why it made her insides tremble.

“I’m busy with the class out here,” she spoke briskly to hide her reaction, “but if you go inside the center, Amy can provide you with the registration information. Tell her I said we could make an exception this once and add one more camper beyond our usual limit.”

“Thank you, Ms. Benedetto.” One corner of his mouth lifted into a relieved smile and the trembling in her stomach seemed to go into hyperdrive, much like the Harder twins after a little sugar.

Somehow that slight smile made him look even more attractive and her reaction to it alarmed her.

“Amy will give you a list of supplies you will need to provide for Chloe.” Annoyance at herself sharpened her voice. “She’s going to need waterproof boots and a warmer jacket this afternoon when we go out to Haystack, though we can probably scrounge something for her today.”

“Thank you.”

“May I go with the other children?” Chloe asked, her green eyes gleaming with eagerness.

“Sure,” Sage said. She and Eben watched Chloe race to the picnic table and squeeze into a spot between two girls of similar ages, who slid over to make room for her.

She turned back to Eben. “Our class ends at four, whether your conference calls are done or not.”

He sent her a swift look. “I’ll be sure to hang up on my attorneys if they run long. I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“It’s not me you would be letting down. It’s Chloe.”

His mouth tightened with clear irritation but she watched in fascination as he carefully pushed it away and resumed a polite expression. “Thank you again for accommodating Chloe. I know you’re stretching the rules for her and I do appreciate it.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and walked toward the center. She watched him go, that fast, take-no-prisoners stride eating up the beach.

What a disagreeable man. He ought to have a British accent for all the stuffy reserve in his voice.

She sighed. Too bad he had to be gorgeous. Someone with his uptight personality ought to have the looks to match, tight, thin lips, a honker of a nose, and squinty pale eyes set too close together.

Instead, Eben Spencer had been blessed with stunning green eyes, wavy dark hair and lean, chiseled features.