"I never asked before because I didn't want to intrude, but...where is your father?"

He lets out a slow breath and shifts his focus out to the beach. "He died about ten years ago." He turns to face me again, and I feel awful for asking.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," I say when I drop my head, feeling bad for bringing it up.

Lifting my chin to look up at him, he says, "Candace, you can ask me anything. I don't want you to feel like you can't, okay?"

"Yeah," I quietly sigh and turn my head away from him, still feeling like I shouldn't have asked him that.

After a moment he begins to speak. "My dad was an asshole." When I look at him, he continues, "He drank way too much and was never around, but when he was, he was a total dick. So, don't feel bad for asking, because I don't feel bad that he's dead."

His voice is hard when he speaks, and I have no idea how to respond to his harsh words. I want to know more, but I don't dare ask. Whatever is underneath this is something that seems painful, so I let it go.

I look up at the cliff that is behind us and notice a roped off ledge. "Is there a trail up there?"

Turning his head to see what I'm looking at, he says, "Yeah, it's a pretty decent path if you want to go up there."

Needing to cut this intensity, I say, "Yeah, let's go."

He eyes my leopard rain boots and asks, "Those have enough traction?"

"We'll see." I giggle and hop off of his lap and grab his hands to pull him off the log.

He smiles at my laugh and leans down to give me a chaste kiss before bending down and grabbing me behind my knees, scooping me up over his shoulder. I squeal as he starts hauling me up the stairs while I hang upside down. I don't even think to tell him to put me down because I love this feeling of playfulness. I honestly can't remember the last time I have felt like this; I don't think I ever have.

We hike along the path and explore the area for a couple hours. I was apprehensive about coming on this trip with him, but I'm so glad I did. My discomfort has dissipated, and it feels like it always has with us—light and easy.

We start walking back to the jeep, thoroughly wet and windblown.

"You up for shopping?" he asks me with a smirk.

"Shopping?"

"Yeah, everyone is leaving tonight, so I need to get the kids hopped up on sugar before they go," he jokes. Opening my door, he helps me up into my seat before walking around to the other side. When he gets in, I ask, "Where are we going?"

"Seaside. There's a cool candy shop called The Buzz."

I laugh at his excitement. "Your cousins are going to hate you, you know?"

"I'm their uncle, it's my job to spoil the shit out of those kids to spite their parents."

He makes me laugh, but his love for his nieces and nephews is apparent. I get the feeling that is how they all are with each other. It feels so abnormal to be around them, but I know it's because I've never had that in my life. It's always just been me and my parents, and there was never any warmth between us.

Ryan reaches over, laces his fingers with mine, and holds my hand. I smile when I look over at him. I sit back, with our hands connected, and enjoy his quiet company as we drive.

Pulling onto the Broadway Strip of Seaside, there are throngs of people walking on the sidewalks, going in and out of the shops that line the street. When we find a parking spot, we walk to the candy shop. He leads me to the back of the store, and when I see what he is eying, I start laughing and say, "You cannot let those kids eat this stuff!"

"Watch me," he says with a devious smile.

I just stand there next to him, shaking my head as he tells the sales clerk to bag up chocolate-covered and peanut butter-covered Twinkies, chocolate covered bacon, and a chunk of peanut butter foam rock.

Looking over at me as he pays for the diabetic-coma-in-a-bag, he innocently says, "What?" as if he doesn't understand the absurdness of his purchase.

"Nothing," I say in a high-pitched mock defensive tone.

After grabbing lunch, we continue to shop around before deciding to head back. The rain has been constant all day, and we are both in desperate need of clean, dry clothes, especially since we decided to hike in the mud earlier.

Ryan's mom calls to let us know that they are on their way back to the house, so we stop by Fultano's to pick up a few pizzas for an early dinner before everyone leaves.

We arrive home before his mother and aunts do, so Ryan stashes the pizzas in the oven and offers to take the older kids upstairs to play to give their dads a little break. There is a large playroom that he takes the three kids into and has me shut the door behind them.

"Can you guys keep a secret?" he asks them.

Madison, Bailey, and Connor, his four year-old nephew, all say 'yes' in excited unison when Ryan pulls out the bag of sugary junk. I sit back on one of the couches in the room and laugh as Ryan and the kids dive into everything. Watching how he is with these kids, laughing and playing on the floor, is another reason for me to like him even more. I know he owns a successful business and works hard, but it's nice that he has this lighthearted side to him as well.

Ryan comes over to sit next to me with one of the pieces of chocolate covered bacon.

"Here," he says as he tries to hand it to me.

Pushing his hand away, I say, "Gross. I'm not eating that."

"It's surprisingly really good." He takes a bite out of it and holds the leftover piece to my mouth. "Just try it," he says, and I open my mouth and bite it out of his grip.

I'm amazed that it is actually good. The salt and smoke of the bacon blends well with the sweetness of the chocolate.

"Okay, you win. That was actually really good," I admit.

Ryan looks out the window that's over my shoulder then back to the kids.

"Guys, eat fast. Our mom's just pulled up."

The three of them giggle as they try desperately to scarf down the rest of the sweets. Ryan and I laugh while watching them in their simplicity of fun. We get up, and Ryan wads up all the wrappers.

Holding out my hands, I say, "Give them to me. I'll hide them."

The kids run downstairs and Ryan hands over the wrappers as I walk to his room. He follows me in and closes the door behind us. I walk into the bathroom and toss everything in the trashcan. When I walk out, Ryan is sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Come over here," he says.

Walking over to him, he pulls me between his legs and slides his arms around my waist. Because of our height difference, we are almost level. Looking at me, he says, "I'm glad you're here with me."

I smile at him with my hands gripped on his shoulders. "Me too."

Placing his hand behind my neck, he draws me in so he can kiss me. He keeps the kiss short then pulls me down to sit on his knee. The room is dark as we stare at each other with our foreheads resting together. Being like this with him, in this quiet room, is peaceful. Neither one of us speaks as we sit here together.

"We should go downstairs," I whisper.

Whispering back, he says, "Not yet."

We stay like this, me on his knee, foreheads together, when Connor comes bursting through the door.

"Busted!" he shouts.

I jump up, and Ryan turns to him. "What do you mean?"