Page 48 of Dr. Single Dad

I glance down at myself. “Jeans and a shirt. If you?—”

“The apron. I can’t have you wearing the apron with Jacob’s face on it. I’ll never hear the end of it.” He strides toward me and starts to undo the tie at the back as if it’s about to explode if he doesn’t get it off me as soon as possible. I may or may not have imagined Dax peeling my clothes off, but it wasn’t motivated by his brother’s face.

Once untied, he lifts the apron at the front and I dip my head so he can slip it off.

“Okay,” I say. “No apron.”

“You boys are ridiculous,” John says from where he’s putting sausages into the oven. “There’s no reason to be jealous, Dax. It’s an apron, not an engagement ring.”

Dax and I lock gazes, our eyes wide as if we’ve been caught keeping a secret.

“I don’t believe in feeding the beast,” he says, recovering quickly. “That’s all. Don’t want him with any more ammunition than he already has.”

“Shall I take Guinevere and give her some milk?” I ask. “Dax, you could take over eggs?”

“Actually,” he says. “I’ll do the milk.”

There’s a boom in my chest, like a mallet on a kettle drum.

“No problem,” I say, trying to sound like it’s no big deal that Dax has chosen to be a father above any other choice he had this morning. Even if the other choice was eggs. Baby steps.

I start cracking eggs into the bowl and watch as Dax sets Guinevere in the DockATot and starts preparing her milk. His hair is still damp from the shower and his navy t-shirt clings to his chest a little too closely.

Not that I’m looking.

Not that I got up extra early so I could wash my hair.

Not that I’m wearing my most flattering jeans and I’ve actually put on some mascara and lip gloss.

“Hey Guinevere,” I say, as Dax fixes her bottle. “Did you sleep super well? Did your brain grow? One day it will be as big as your daddy’s.”

I hear Dax’s huff of a half laugh behind me. Maybe I’m imagining it, but he passes just a little too close to me, grazing my arm with his.

Our gazes snag again and all I’m aware of is heat. Everywhere. All over me.

Shit.

Dax settles himself into one of the kitchen chairs and gives Guinevere her bottle.

“Right, that’s tomatoes and sausages in. Baked beans are heating. Eira’s on the eggs. What else?” John looks around as if searching for clues about what he might have forgotten.

I smile and sneak a look at Dax. He’s smiling too and then he rolls his eyes. “Mushrooms.”

“Oh yes. A little fungus. And black pudding. How could I have forgotten black pudding?”

“And you’re not doing bacon?” I ask.

Dax chuckles. “Don’t mention the bacon.”

“We don’t do bacon,” John says, a serious expression on his face.

I smile, but don’t ask any questions.

“Is that some beautiful unsmoked back bacon I can smell?” I hear Zach before he appears at the kitchen door.

Ellie dips under his arm. “Don’t start. Seriously. It’s not even funny anymore.”

“You’re right,” he says, following Ellie over to the kitchen table. “It’s not funny. I don’t see why we can’t have bacon just because we can’t agree which bacon is the best.”

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