Sea Glass Cottage by Vickie McKeehan

they’d been renting.
    As Thane remembered those years, he looked around at the outdated kitchen cabinets and beyond to the interior in the great room. Early morning light fanned through the open sliding glass door and onto the Spanish tile flooring. His parents had long ago yanked out the old carpeting throughout and put in a stylish substitute with colorful inlay. At his mother’s insistence, they’d replaced the dark paneling with a coat of cranberry red paint and white crown molding which gave it a festive air.
    He knew the outside needed another shot at repairing the cream-colored stucco and its brown trim, which he planned to get to first chance he got.
    Labor Day weekend, the last time Tessa had visited she’d given him grief about the peeling exterior. He’d almost shoved a sandblaster in her hand and then challenged her to get it done herself and quit her bitching. He laughed at the image of his sister, or rather Dr. Tessa, as she was known to her younger patients, slapping on a new surface coat. Tessa the pediatric surgeon lived in Portland, Oregon. She’d never been a big fan of manual labor.
    Thane threw coffee beans into a grinder, dumped the contents into a filter, and while it brewed placed a call to Lilly about the outside sign for the pizza parlor. When he learned she could get on it immediately, they agreed to meet later at the restaurant to go over ideas.
    After he hung up the phone he filled a mug with caffeine. While sipping his first cup of the day, he glared at the ancient cabinets. He really did need to find out if it was feasible to install new by Thanksgiving when Tessa was due back in town.
    He checked the clock on the wall and wondered if it was too early to call and check on Isabella. He shook his head at the eagerness he felt to hear her voice.
    That wouldn’t do, he decided. There were a lot of reasons he didn’t want to find himself attracted to her. Namely, she was a distraction he didn’t need right now. Tessa would surely bitch at him about that. But he had a kid to raise, a restaurant to open, a houseguest due in town in a couple of weeks. He didn’t have time to devote to getting a woman into bed. All that aside, he’d learned it was difficult to have an active sex life when he had a six-year-old for a roommate.
    He tried to remember the last time he’d made love to a woman. Then it came to him. When they were still living in New York, the night Fischer had babysat Jonah two weeks before the move here.
    As he finished his cup and poured another, he formulated a plan to do something about the drought. But this morning he had to quash his lust. He had a kid to roust out of bed, even on a Saturday.
    He crossed through the great room and headed down the hall to what used to be his room from childhood. The very same bedroom that now belonged to Jonah. From the doorway he eyed his rumpled, still-sleeping son who had kicked off most of his covers. He sat down next to him, ran a hand over his head where dark blond hair stuck out every which way.
    “Time to get up, partner. Time to wake up. Want to go surfing with me or eat breakfast first?”
    Jonah rolled over in a sleepy groan. “Wanna surf,” he mumbled as he attempted to sit up, but in the same motion he slunk back down into the pillow, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
    Thane went over to the closet and pulled out the miniature wetsuit hanging on the peg. “Then let’s get you out of those pajamas and into this. Raise your arms up.”
    Jonah knew the drill and obliged, wiggling out of the top that went to his Batman PJs. He let his dad help him get into the body-hugging outfit. But before Thane zipped him up, he tapped him on the shoulder. “Better go pee first.”
    While Jonah busied himself in the bathroom, Thane got dressed. Afterward, he grabbed towels and sunscreen and watched as Jonah dashed out to the garage to get his boogie board. They walked to the end of the block, crossed over to Ocean and down to the