Forever an Eaton. Rochelle Alers

Layla likes a boy, then that’s her business, not ours.”

      Griffin sat up straighter. “She’s too young to have a boyfriend.”

      “But I don’t have a boyfriend,” Layla sobbed, as tears trickled down her cheeks.

      Belinda rounded on Griffin. “Griffin, you’re upsetting the child. She says she doesn’t have a boyfriend.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “We’ll talk about this later. Sabrina and Layla, I want you to finish your breakfast then please go and comb your hair. And don’t forget what I said yesterday about leaving clothes on the floor.”

      Layla sprang up from the table, leaving her twin staring at her back. Sabrina closed her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make her cry.”

      Belinda shook her head. “If you didn’t mean it then you shouldn’t have said what you said. Remember, Sabrina, that your words and actions have consequences.”

      Nodding, Sabrina pushed back her chair. “I’ll tell her I’m sorry.”

      Belinda closed her eyes for several seconds and when she opened them she found Griffin glaring at her. “What?”

      “The girls can’t date until they’re eighteen.”

      “Are you asking me or telling me, Griffin?”

      He stared, not blinking. “I’m only making a suggestion.”

      “I believe seventeen would be more appropriate.”

      “Why?”

      “By that time they’ll be in their last year of high school and that will give them a year to deal with the ups and downs of what they’ll believe is love. Then once they’re in college they’ll be used to the lies and tricks dogs masquerading as men perpetuate so well.”

      Griffin’s expressive eyebrows shot up. “You think all men are dogs?”

      Belinda rinsed and stacked dishes in the dishwasher. “If the shoe fits, then wear it, Griffin Rice. If a woman dated as many men as you do women, people would call her a whore.”

      “I don’t date that many women.”

      “Why, then, didn’t you sue that tabloid that documented your many trysts?”

      “I don’t have the time, nor the inclination to keep up with gossip.”

      Resting a hip against the counter, Belinda gave him a long, penetrating stare. “Are you saying what they printed wasn’t true?”

      There came a lengthy pause before Griffin said, “Yes.”

      “What about the photographs of you and different women?”

      “They were photo ops.”

      “They were photo ops for whose benefit?”

      “Most times for the lady.”

      “So, all that dishing about you being a womanizer is bogus.”

      Leaning on his elbow, Griffin cradled his chin in his hand. “If I’d slept with as many women as the tabloids claim I have I doubt whether I’d be able to stand up.”

      Belinda turned her head to conceal her smile. “Real or imaginary, you’re going to have to clean up your image now that you’re a father.”

      Now that you’re a father.

      Belinda’s words were branded into Griffin’s consciousness as he got up to take the rest of the dishes off the table. He, who hadn’t wanted to marry and become a father because he didn’t want his children to go through what he’d experienced with his warring parents, now at thirty-seven, found himself playing daddy to his adolescent nieces.

      When Jonathan Connolly had called to tell him that he had received the documents legalizing the girls’ adoption, Griffin felt his heart stop before it started up again. He’d feared his life would change so dramatically, that he would have to hire a nanny to take care of his nieces and that he wouldn’t be able to recognize who he was or what he’d become until he remembered Belinda telling him she would have the girls live with her, and if he chose he could have them on weekends.

      Belinda’s suggestion had come as a shock to him. He’d thought of her as the consummate career woman. She taught high school history, spent her winter vacations in the Caribbean or Florida and traveled abroad during the summer months.

      He had vacillated between indifference and newfound respect for Belinda when she’d decided to renovate her house to address the needs and interests of the two children she’d thought of as her own within days of them losing their parents.

      Belinda Eaton had sacrificed her day-to-day existence for “her children” while he hadn’t given up anything. When he’d come to her house the night before he said he’d come to see his children. They weren’t only his children or Belinda’s children. Sabrina and Layla Rice were now legally the children of both Belinda Eaton and Griffin Rice.

      “I’ll try, Belinda.”

      She gave him a level look. “Don’t try, Griffin. Just do it.”

      He nodded in a gesture of acquiescence. “I’m going to change my clothes. I want to get to the school early enough so I don’t have to wait to be seen.”

      Belinda turned back to finish cleaning up the kitchen. She didn’t have to be at the high school until eleven, which left her time to dust and vacuum. As the only person living in the house her house was always spotless. But she knew that was going to change because Donna hadn’t taught her daughters to pick up after themselves.

      As a stay-at-home mother and housewife Donna didn’t mind picking up after her husband and children. Roberta Eaton had picked up after her four children, and Donna continued the practice. However, that would end with Belinda. As a certifiable neat-freak, the girls would either conform to her standards or they would forfeit their privileges.

      She’d loaded the dishwasher and had begun sweeping the kitchen when Sabrina and Layla walked in with backpacks slung over their shoulders. Both had combed and neatly braided their hair into single plaits. The fuzzy hair around their hairline was evidence that it was time for their roots to be touched up.

      “Before you ask, Aunt Lindy, we brushed our teeth,” Sabrina announced with a teasing smile.

      Resting her hands on her denim-covered hips, Belinda looked at her from under lowered lids. “I wasn’t going to ask, Miss Prissy.”

      “Who’s prissy?” asked a deep voice. Griffin stood at the entrance to the kitchen dressed in a lightweight navy blue suit, stark white shirt, striped silk tie and black leather slip-ons.

      Belinda couldn’t contain the soft gasp escaping her parted lips as she stared at Griffin like a star-struck teen seeing her idol in person for the first time. Now she knew why women came on to Griffin Rice. He radiated masculinity like radioactive particles transmitting deadly rays. Her knees buckled slightly as she held on to the broom handle to keep her balance.

      A nervous smile trembled over her lips. “Your daughter.”

      Smiling, Griffin strolled into the kitchen. “Which one?”

      “Sabrina,” Belinda and Layla said in unison, before touching fists.

      Looping his arm around Sabrina’s neck, Griffin lowered his head and kissed her forehead. “Are you being prissy, Miss Rice?”

      Tilting her chin, she smiled up at her uncle. “I don’t even know what prissy means.”

      He ran a finger down the length of her short nose. “Look it up in the dictionary.”

      Sabrina snapped her fingers. “How did I know you were going to say that?”

      “That’s because you’re smart.”

      Belinda propped the broom against the back of a chair. “Come give me a kiss before you leave.”

      She