Raising her must have been one long, exhausting battle, she realized with sympathy.

Now that they were all adults, the distance was all the more pronounced. They shared a day-to-day existence that she had no part in. Kimber was a parent. Her parents were grandparents and busy with island business. It was as if the circle had closed without her, leaving her on the outside. Just because she was the reason for the family meal didn’t make her feel more like a part of the family.

“I’ll put away the extra plate,” Remi volunteered, hooking a thumb toward the dining room, suddenly wanting to be in motion.

“It’s not extra,” Darlene told her, looking up from the stovetop where she was showing Hadley how to whisk gravy. “Brick’s coming. That boy has been living off beef stew for months now.”

“At least it’s homemade, Mom. You make it sound like he’s eating cold ravioli out of a can,” Kimber teased over the veggie tray she was arranging.

Well, shit.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” Remi said. Now she definitely needed to move, to burn off some of this nervous energy.

After this morning’s awkwardness, he wasn’t exactly someone she wanted to spend an evening making small talk with.

“It’s family dinner,” Gilbert said, as if that was a reasonable explanation for the invitation.

“Brick’s not family,” she insisted. If he was family, well, she was going to need to talk to a therapist about a lot of things STAT.

She’d been convinced the man was going to tell her no on the studio space when he’d opened the door. Then he’d asked most sincerely if she was okay, which had nearly undone her wobbly defenses. And then. Then! She’d just happened to notice the baseball bat of wood he was sporting in those tight uniform pants. Dear Josephine Baker in heaven. She couldn’t have been more hypnotized by that obscene length of dick if he’d taken it out and swung it back and forth in front of her eyes.

After he’d ditched her at the front door with a bag of meat, she’d indulged in a little fantasy where Brick had to take matters—matters meaning a monster of an erection—into his own hands and pleasure himself thinking about her.

It had to be her, right? What else would have riled him while they were alone in his house talking about natural light and macaroni and cheese?

The man had finally had a single moment of weakness. On one hand, it was a long sought-after triumph. On the other, it was an unnecessary complication. For years, she would have reveled in Brick’s attention and enjoyed torturing him. But right now? She just needed him to mind his own damn business so she could handle hers.

And speaking of handling her business, she’d also discovered the frustration of fantasizing about an old crush without the use of her good hand. She absolutely did not need to be sexually frustrated for an evening with Brick Man Mountain Callan.