Smitten with the Single Dad

Welcome to San Camanez, a humble, peaceful little island in the Puget Sound and home to the McEvoy brothers. Four sexy single fathers—and one childless snack with a beard—who run a brewpub on the beach, raise their kids together, and hope to find love and happiness in the chaos that is life. This is Wyatt’s story ...

Single Dad and chef Wyatt McEvoy was simply heading home after another gruelling day in the kitchen when a battered and terrified woman literally ran right into him. Who did this to her? And if they’re still alive, they won’t be for long.When Vica Vitale was attacked at the McEvoy’s pub, she nearly paid the ultimate price. Luckily, she knows how to defend herself. Only, no witnesses to see her do it means the police now think she’s a killer. Because of this, her new company has canceled her visa application, and immigration is ready with the handcuffs.With no family in the country, Vica is on her own and terrified. Until Wyatt steps up and makes her the offer of a lifetime. Marry him. Doing so will get his protection and a green card. She only needs to keep her end of the agreement and avoid falling in love with her new husband in the process. Otherwise, she might jeopardize his family’s safety as well as her heart.

“Why do you have to leave us?” Aleysha asked with just a
hint of a whine to her voice. Her smile was that of a tipsy woman who had
enjoyed perhaps one too many white wines in the hot summer sun. “We’re a fun
group. See?”

Vica smiled at her coworker, the only other female engineer
in her department at Croft Engineering Ltd. “I know. I wish I was staying too.
But this was just a one-year term, and the firm in New York is sponsoring my
new visa. I need to go where the sponsorship is if I want to stay in the
country.”

Aleysha pouted and sipped more wine, leaving a faint, dark-red
lip print on the rim of the glass. She turned to Track, their boss and the son
of the firm’s owner. “You’re the baby boss man. Why can’t you offer Vica
another year? Sponsor her visa for a second term? She’s the best engineer this
firm has ever seen. You’re idiots for letting her go.”

Brows around their tall table at the Westhaven Winery
tasting room shot up to hairlines. Nobody spoke to Track Croft that way. Not
even when drunk.

But Track brushed it off with a lighthearted laugh even
though Vica could see the way the lines around his eyes remained tight like he
was forcing himself to take Aleysha’s drunk tirade in stride, but really, he
wanted to fire her ass for such insubordination. “You know I’m not the real
decision maker,” he said, deflecting the blame to his father like he always
did. “I might run our division, but Dad runs the show.” He turned to Vica,
genuine remorse now coloring his dark-gray eyes. “I tried, Vica. I did. I
wanted to keep you.”

The way he said “keep you” made something icy drip down
Vica’s back. And given the heat of the August day, that was saying something.

Carefully, to not piss off her boss, Vica took a half-step
to the side to put just a bit of distance between her and Track.

For the last year, he’d quietly pursued her while also
flaunting his nightly, and weekendly, bedroom conquests in her face. He wasn’t
a closet playboy with a “good guy” veneer. He was a rake and almost seemed
proud of it. And yet, he still thought he deserved a shot with her.

She was grateful that he was her boss though, because it
made for a very easy excuse to turn him down every time he suggested they go
out for dinner or grab a drink after work. She simply said that she didn’t
think it was smart to date her boss, and that she needed to focus on work and
maintaining the respect of her coworkers. He never pushed, but he would wait a
few weeks and then try again. It was exhausting deflecting his advances, but
now that her job term was up and she was leaving Seattle for New York in two
weeks, she figured a group outing was safe.

Track was kind enough to organize this goodbye party for her
and their division. He paid for their ferry rides over to San Camanez Island,
an island located just outside of Seattle, and he’d been covering the costs of
all their excursions.

So far, they’d all been to the Twisted Sisters Cidery where
they sampled flights of cider; then the Hardwood Distillery where they sampled
various gins, vodkas, and whiskeys; and now they were at Westhaven Winery. Last
on the docket was Sound Bites Pub, which was where the San Camanez Brewery was
located.

Vica was not a big drinker—well, besides good Italian wine,
because she was Italian and not liking wine was like not liking pasta—but an
entire day filled with nothing but alcohol was not exactly her idea of fun.

Her coworkers, however, were a fun crowd, and she would be
sad to leave them. So she was grateful for this goodbye party, even if it was
being thrown by her boss.

“New York is so smelly,” Hugh said, taking a sip of the Sauvignon
Blanc from his tasting board. “I had to go once for a school field trip back in
high school and all I remember was rats, garbage, skyscrapers, and way too many
people. We went in the summer too, and the smell of hot garbage overflowing
from a trash can is something that will be forever burned in my brain.” He made
a face before reaching for an olive from the charcuterie tray.

Vica shrugged. “Well, I’m excited to smell it myself.”

Her other eight coworkers chuckled.

Aleysha wrapped her arm around Vica, pulling her into a side
hug embrace, and a bit further away from Track. “Well, we’re going to miss you.
It’s such a sausage fest in our division. It’s been nice to have another—”

“Taco in the mix,” Rhys said with a chortle.

Both Vica and Aleysha glared at the super socially awkward
genius with an IQ of 170. Just because he was brilliant didn’t mean he was smart.

“I was going to say, it’s been nice to have another woman on
our floor,” Aleysha said, boring holes into Rhys’s forehead with her pretend
laser vision of destruction.

Rhys, at least, had the decency to go a little pink in the
cheeks and avert his gaze. He muttered a half-hearted apology, but anybody in a
ten-foot radius knew he didn’t mean it.

Vica checked her smart watch. It was nearly six o’clock. She
wasn’t sure what time they planned to head back to the ferry, but if she had it
her way, she’d already be home, on her couch with her feet up and a good book
in front of her.

“You have somewhere else to be?” Track asked, glancing down
at her.

She smiled and shook her head, taking the smallest of sips from
her Riesling. “No. Just like to know what time it is.” She motioned to his
watch. “Just like you.”

He huffed a small laugh, then faced the rest of their group.
“We’ll finish up here, then pile into the van and head to the pub.” He glanced
back down at her. “Are you having a good time?” Casually, he flicked a swath of
his dark-blond hair off his forehead. “I wanted to give you a proper send off.
The team is really going to miss you.”

Vica plastered on a smile. “I am. Thank you, Track. You have
all been so welcoming and kind. I’m going to miss the team too.”

“When do you start at your new firm in New York?”

“Two weeks. They are just finishing processing my visa. So I
am going to drive. Road trip across the country and take my time. I want to go
to the Grand Canyon, see the Rockies in Colorado, dip my toes in one of the
Great Lakes, and see what all the fuss is about with this Chicago style
pizza. What is this deep-dish nonsense anyway?”

Track chuckled. “I dunno. I’ve always been a New York style
guy, myself. You’ll have to let us know your thoughts.”

The server came around with the bill and, like it was no big
deal, Track dug his black credit card out of his wallet and handed it to her.

“This is great,” Rhys said. “More employees should leave so
we have more goodbye parties with the bill footed by the boss.”

They all gave him a strange look. When he realized what he had
just said, more pink stained his cheeks, and he cleared his throat before
glancing away.

The server returned with Track’s credit card and the slip
which Track signed. He made sure to scrawl his name with a flourish, drawing
everyone’s attention to the receipt and how much he was spending, as well as
how much he was tipping.

He wasn’t a modest man.

In fact, Vica questioned whether there was even a modest
cell, or bone, or whatever was the correct idiom, in the man’s body.

“Shall we move on to the next venue?” Track asked, stowing
his credit card back in his wallet.

“Yes!” Frank cheered. “More free booze, here we come. And
finally, it’s something I actually like—beer.”

Aleysha rolled her eyes before shrinking a little in the
embarrassment that Vica felt as well. “Maybe keep your voice down a little, you
socially awkward nugget. You’re in a freaking winery.”

Frank grimaced. “Shit. Right. Sorry.”

Track slapped him on the back. “All good, Frankie. I’m right
there with you. Unless it’s twenty-five-year-old Scotch, I’m more a beer man
myself.”

Vica and Aleysha hung back while the eight men headed toward
the shuttle bus Track had rented for them—along with a driver. Aleysha wrapped
an arm around Vica again, affectionately resting her cheek on Vica’s shoulder.
“Don’t leave me with those morons. Please.”

Vica chuckled and wrapped an arm around Aleysha’s waist.
“You could always come with me to New York.”

“Do you watch movies? Everything bad happens in New York. Everything.
I’m good braving the tectonic plates shifting and causing a massive earthquake
over on this side of the country. It could be tomorrow, or it could be in a
hundred years. But at least the Avengers won’t be destroying my city every
three or four years.”

Vica laughed. “Ah, I will miss you, Bella.”

They reached the shuttle bus, Aleysha’s eyes a little glassy
from all the booze. “Ooh, speak more Italian to me.”