Okay, I could admit it: being a good father was insanely attractive on a molecular level.

Shut up, ovaries.

“All done,” Jackson declared.

Finley spun as he bent down, placing a kiss on his cheek in a motion so perfectly timed that it had to be routine. My belly clenched.

There had to be something wrong with this man somewhere. Anywhere. Maybe he squeezed the toothpaste from the center of the tube like a monster or something.

“Okay, what’s first for you ladies? Kiteboarding? Surfing?” Jackson curved the brim of his baseball hat.

Never mind, that was what was wrong with him. Wasn’t there an activity that didn’t require I fall on my ass in the middle of the ocean? Or something with a motor? I’d never been more aware of my indoor-girl status.

“Shirts!” Finley decided.

“Well, shirts it is,” Jackson said, taking her hand in his.

For a split second, I pictured him offering me his other hand.

Because clearly, I’d gone crazy.

“Come on, Fin, let’s show Morgan how we locals open the surf shop for the season.”

“It’s Hawkins Day!” Fin held up her free hand, and I took it.

“It is?” I asked.

“Mary Ann Hawkins was one of the first women’s surfing champions. It’s basically a day where you can learn about the ocean and all the fun stuff you can do in it. There are instructors for just about anything you might want to try,” Jackson explained as the three of us walked down the path to the beach, where hundreds of people were already celebrating, and it seemed like it was about 90 percent women.

“It’s a girl thing,” Finley confirmed.

Jackson met my gaze and shrugged. “I’m here in a purely observational capacity, just like last year.”

A woman crossed in front of us in a swimsuit that wasn’t hiding much.

“I bet you are,” I drawled slowly.

He flashed me a grin.

“Jax!” A tall brunette with chin-length hair waved her hands in the air as she ran our way. Holy crap, I could barely run on a treadmill, and this woman hit the beach like it was pavement.

Wait. Was Jackson seeing someone? We’d never had that conversation. He would have said something, though…right? My stomach sank.

“Miss Tina!” Finley let go of our hands and hugged the woman.

“Hey, Christina.” Jackson greeted her with a hug, too.

“You must be Morgan,” Christina said with a bright, open smile and sparkling brown eyes.

“I am,” I said, then partially froze as she hugged me.

“I’m so happy to meet you!” she said, stepping back and doing a quick but open appraisal of me. “These two talk about you all the time.”

“We’re going to make shirts!” Finley declared.

“How fun!” Christina turned to Jackson. “You take Finley, and I’ll take Morgan. We’re going to do beach yoga.”