JENNIE

At eight a.m. on the dot, my alarm clock blares with its familiar deafening cry. And for the first time in years, I slap my hand onto the snooze.

It's not like me to be sleeping in, but it's also not like me to stay up half the night thinking about someone. But that's exactly what I did last night. Lalisa Manoban has been occupying my thoughts almost one hundred percent of the time since the night I turned her down. Also known as the last time I spoke to her.

And the silence between us has had two major effects on me.

The first is that it has me brainstorming an unending list of questions. Is Lisa mad at me? Hurt? Am I still Lauren's nanny? Am I ever going to stop obsessively checking my phone, hoping to hear from her?

And as if that wasn't enough, see exhibit B, the second, more dangerous effect.

You know that old saying, absence makes the heart grow fonder? Well, my heart is growing fond, all right. A little too fond. As in at least one sex dream about her a night fond. And while I know that saying no to a date with her was the responsible thing to do, it seems like my sex drive isn't feeling particularly responsible lately. Yay for me.

Eight minutes pass in the blink of an eye, and there goes my alarm again, screaming that it's time to get up. With a sigh, I shove off the covers and turn my alarm off, then immediately reach for my phone, hoping to see a notification from Lisa.

But no, just a few news notifications and a text from Jisoo, double-checking that we're on for lunch tomorrow.

I fire back a quick response to her, then hold down the side button until the screen goes black. My phone needs a time-out. Or rather, I need a time-out from my phone. I need to unplug and stop wondering about Ms. You-Know-Who. And I'll never get out of my head if I don't get out of the house. Luckily, I know just the way to do it. It's too beautiful out to worry the day away, and in my experience, there isn't a problem in this world that a little sunshine and ocean air can't wash away.

I do a load of laundry, and then hop into the shower with my hair up in a messy bun so I can shave my legs. As I finish the few remaining chores around my apartment, I hatch a plan about how I can spend my day.

With my chores done, I march over to my closet, change into my go-to baby blue bikini, and slip on a gauzy white cover-up. It takes me a few minutes to dig up last summer's beach bag from the back of my closet. There's still a tube of suntan lotion in there, along with a very expired bag of trail mix. Shame on Last Year Jennie for not properly cleaning this thing out.

After tossing the trail mix into the trash, I pack my bag with all the essentials—a fluffy pink towel, sunscreen, and my favorite well-worn paperback I've read every summer for the past five years. All the perfect ingredients for a beach day to get my mind off of this whole Lalisa situation. I'm going to lay out, reread this fluffy chick-lit book, and get my tan on. This day is going to be a stress-free zone. No Lalisa. No drama.

On my way out the door, I snag my oversized sunglasses, then pile my things into the passenger seat and zoom off toward the beach. It's a quick drive, and I find the luckiest parking spot right by the ice cream parlor where Lisa and I had our first date all those years ago. Which, of course, has me feeling all types of things about her again.

Ugh. Maybe if I can go one full hour without this woman crossing my mind, I'll treat myself to a scoop of double-chocolate fudge.

My flip-flops slap against the sidewalk as I make my way toward the sand, scoping out a little stretch of beach to call my own. But a certain set of familiar broad shoulders and a low, throaty laugh send my stomach bottoming out to my kneecaps.

You've gotta be freaking kidding me.

She may have her back to me, but there's no mistaking it. That's Lalisa Manoban, sitting smack dab in the center of the beach on a striped green beach towel, her cupped hands scooping sand into the pink plastic pail in Lauren's tiny fist.

I can't help the enormous sigh that escapes my lungs. Suddenly, the concept of a stress-free day is a sad, distant memory. So much for my double-chocolate fudge.

Before I can say screw it to my beach day and bolt back toward my car, Lauren spots me, her face splitting with a big, giddy grin. She drops the plastic pail, sending sand spilling all over the towel as she claps her hands together with glee. "Jenjen!"

Well, no turning back now, I guess.

Lisa follows her daughter's gaze over her shoulder, pulling her aviator sunglasses off to get a better look. Her blue eyes twinkle as a genuinely surprised smile breaks out across her face. "Well, hey there."

I wiggle my fingers in a little wave, trying desperately to ignore the giddy feeling buzzing behind my rib cage.

No, Jennie. We're not supposed to be excited to see her.

Why is my heart not getting the message?

It takes some serious willpower, but I manage to pull my attention away from Lisa (in a pair of swim trunks, no less) and go back to combing the beach for a tanning spot. Preferably somewhere far in the opposite direction of the adorable dada-daughter beach day happening in front of me.

But then I feel a tug on my swimsuit cover-up. Lauren has her fist wrapped around the fabric, grinning up at me from behind her teeny-tiny heart-shaped sunglasses. I imagine Lisa picking this out for her in a baby boutique and my heart squeezes.

"Up!" she demands, stretching her arms to the sky. Goodness, she toddled over here fast.

Of course I comply, scooping her into my arms, because I just can't say no to this little munchkin. As much as I could use the day off, I can't pretend like I haven't missed her and her dada these past few days.

"Hi, sweet girl." I grin down at her, and Lauren giggles.

I head toward Lisa, all the while getting an earful from Lauren about the sandcastle they're building. Although she pronounces it more like san-capple. Part of me hopes she'll never fully master her words. Her mispronunciations are so freaking adorable.

"I believe you lost this," I say, teasing as I lower Lauren back onto the towel next to . . .

Holy smokes. Next to hottest Lisa. Seeing her from the back was one thing, but from the front? Nothing could have prepared me for this.

Fuck. The woman is gorgeous.

I can immediately feel the blush creeping across my chest and cheeks, and I pray to God that these giant sunglasses are covering at least part of it. Or maybe I could pass it off as a sunburn or something? Anything that would keep her from knowing that one look at her firm, chiseled pecs has me redder than a summer sunset.

Sure, I saw her shirtless plenty of times when we dated. During sexy times, yes, but also during normal day-to-day moments. Like when she and my brother would come in from shooting hoops in our driveway, both of them sweaty and smelling worse than a boys' locker room in June.

She was toned then, but she was also young. A girl.

But the Lalisa Manoban in front of me now is all woman. And I mean all man. I literally have to look up at the sky to keep myself from counting her abs. Not that I need to. I know for a fact there are six of them, each chiseled and firm.

If this is a dad bod, well, sign me the heck up.

To make this uncomfortable moment even more awkward, Lauren decides to chime in with her thoughts on the situation. "Dada, Jenjen so pretty!"

Oh sweet Jesus. Of all the things she could say right now, did she have to go with that?

But Lisa just chuckles, ruffling Lauren's windblown hair. "Yeah? I think she looks good in blue too."

Wait. Blue? But my cover-up is white.

I glance down, double-checking that I'm not losing my mind, only to discover that the sunlight is shining through the thin white fabric just right. My little blue bikini—and everything else it doesn't cover—is fully on display. And by the way Lisa clears her throat into her fist and subtly adjusts her swim trunks, I'm thinking she may be enjoying the view quite a lot.

What. Is. Happening?

"Lauren, honey, why don't you go fill up the bucket with water?" she says, picking up the pail and handing it over to her daughter. "Wet sand will be better for our sancapple."

Lisa shoots me a knowing sidelong glance, and we both have to conceal our laughter. Luckily, the little one doesn't catch on. She just toddles the short distance to the water, trying and failing again and again to capture the tide in her little pink pail.

"Sorry that my daughter doesn't understand the concept of a day off." She chuckles, an apologetic smile tugging at her lips. "You, uh, you do look good in blue, though. She wasn't wrong about that."

There's that blush on my cheeks again. This time it's accompanied by a quick surge of heat between my thighs.

Am I seriously getting turned on in public right now? With her daughter a couple of feet away? Pull it together, Jennie. You are stronger than this.

"Th-thanks," I stutter. "And you look good . . . . uh yourself."

What. The. Actual. Heck. Did I just say that? The second the words come out, I feel every drop of blood drain from my face.

I'm a heartbeat away from bolting back to my car and pretending this whole encounter never happened, but then Lisa's low, sweet chuckle fills the air. She smiles, pats the spot on the towel next to her, and shifts over to make room for me. And I don't know what to do other than take a seat. So I do.

"She's loving living this close to the beach." She tips her chin in the direction of her daughter, who is inspecting a seashell in the palm of her hand. "Don't eat that!"

At the sound of her dada's voice, Lauren flings the shell into the water, then grabs her bucket and toddles back our way.

"You'll have to take her to Hanbin's place sometime. Maybe early in the morning, before the party crowd shows up. I bet she'd love the surfboard bar."

Lisa nods in agreement, watching as Lauren settles back in next to us and returns to working on her sancapple. "Good idea. She'd get a kick out of that."

It's quiet between us for a moment, and I focus on drawing lazy circles in the warm sand with my fingertip. Anything to keep from ogling her half-naked body again. Before long, Lisa cracks the silence wide open with a sentence I totally wasn't expecting.

"I mentioned to Hanbin that I asked you out."

I flinch, my brows pushing together into a tight line. "What? Why did you do that?"

She lifts a shoulder. "Because I'm trying to be more honest. Life is too short to keep things from people, you know?"

My chest tightens at the sadness behind her words. She's thinking of her mom, I'm sure. No wonder she's been so seize the day lately, what with asking me out and all.

"Well? How'd that go?"

"Not great," she says with a sigh, her gaze glued on Lauren, and I can't tell if she's supervising or just trying to avoid eye contact. "He basically said my track record with women is awful, and to stay away from you. So that's where we're at."

I stifle a laugh. That sounds like Hanbin, all right. "Suddenly, I'm remembering why we hid the whole us dating thing from him in high school."

"Yeah, but we were only kids then. I wouldn't let his opinion stop me now." Lisa pauses, then finally shifts her gaze toward mine, her blue eyes only bluer against the ocean behind her. "If you were, you know, reconsidering."

I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering how much to say and how much to hold back. If she's trying to be honest, I suppose I should too. Swallowing the lump of nerves in my throat, I squeeze my eyes shut and come right out and say it.

"I like you, Lis. I really do. But . . . I have a date this Saturday."

She blinks, her brows shooting up her forehead. "Oh?"

"Yeah. He's a fifth-grade teacher at my school. He asked me out right before the school year wrapped up."

"Oh," she says again, this time with more disappointment in her tone, maybe even a twinge of jealousy. "Um, I hope it goes well."

"Me too," I say firmly. And I mean it. At least, I think I do.

This teacher is cute, tall, and great with his students. No, maybe he's not quit Lisa-level hot, and he's never made the butterflies in my stomach flap quite the way Lisa has. But he's also never hurt me before. There's no messy history. A clean, easy start could be just what I need.

"Dada, look!"

Lauren's piercing squeal breaks through our awkward moment, sending both of our heads swiveling in her direction. I couldn't tell you when or how it got there, but suddenly she's pulling a big clump of seaweed from out of her swim diaper.

"I swear, you take your eyes off a two-year-old for one second . . ." Lisa grumbles to herself as she pulls her little girl into her arms, taking the seaweed from her tiny fist and flinging it as far away as possible. "Love bug, we don't put things in our swim diaper. Not seaweed. Not anything."

I bite my lip, holding back laughter. Kids never fail to crack me up, especially this little munchkin. I love my first graders, but I think I'm really starting to develop a soft spot for toddlers.

As I listen to Lauren's babbling while her dada wraps her in a towel, my chest suddenly feels tight. I can't shake the story of Lauren's mom, how she didn't feel any connection with her or have any desire to keep her in her life.

How could anyone not want this sweet little angel? I mean, just look at her. She's a little blond beach burrito, all snuggled up in that towel, her bright blue eyes blinking curiously at the world around her. Just being around this little girl makes my life brighter.

It's one more reason why I can't get mixed up with her dada. No matter how hard those butterflies in my stomach are flapping their wings, or how insanely hot her dada bod is.

Because Lauren is already one of the highlights of my summer, and if things got messy with her dada, she would end up hurt. She's already lost out on having her mother in her life. The last thing she needs is a revolving door of women coming in and out of her dada's life.