Page 20 of Fifty-Fifty

I laugh before taking a few steps closer to the kitchen island and striking up a conversation with the one girl who will talk to me.

“Whatcha eating?” I ask.

Without replying, she pulls the spoon from her mouth as drool starts rolling down her chin. “Cookie. Dough.” She offers me the mess on the utensil, and I nearly gag while examining it.

I try to keep my disgust in check as I smile softly and shake my head. “No thanks, Mac. Thank you, though.”

She pops the spoon back into her mouth like a sucker and turns to her mom.

“I shoulda known,” Beau states.

My brows crinkle. “Known what?”

“That you ain’t a cookie dough kinda man.”

I throw my head back, laughing. “Should I be offended?”

She shrugs one shoulder, acting coy. “Probably. Here in the South, we like our butter and our sugar. You might wanna start searchin’ for your sweet tooth, or you’re gonna feel mighty outta place. Just sayin’.” Popping a clean spoon filled with cookie dough into her mouth, she watches me from across the island with a wicked gleam in her eye.

Welp. Apparently, she’s not mad.

Taking the bait, I take two steps forward and lean across the cool countertop before sticking my finger in the stainless steel bowl and grabbing a pinch of cookie dough.

Mac starts clapping excitedly when I put it in my mouth to let the sugary flavor explode on my tongue. I find it interesting that Beau’s eyes are glued to my hand and mouth as I devour the dough, but I keep it to myself.

For about two seconds.

“See something you like?” My lips tilt up in the corner.

A light blush spreads across her cheeks, but she ignores me completely.

I’m not surprised.

I open my mouth to egg her on a little more when the bell rings from the front of the house, notifying us that someone’s here.

Beau wipes her hands on her red apron, then reaches for Mac when I raise my arms to stop her. “I can watch Mac for a minute. If you want.”

She chews her lower lip for a second, her gaze dropping to the little girl on the counter before coming back to me. Warily, she nods. “Okay. Be right back.”

And with that, she leaves.

Mac and I spend the next ten minutes binging on cookie dough and drinking chocolate milk from a sippy cup. Well, she drinks it from a sippy cup, I use a normal one, but you get the picture.

The time flies by, and I’m surprised when Beau comes back.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I had to check in another set of guests. Thanks for…” She tilts her head toward Mac. “For watchin’ her.”

I nod. “Anytime.”

And surprisingly, I mean it.

* * *

We spend the evening in a relatively comfortable silence. Beau doesn’t kick me out while making dinner, but she doesn’t invite me to stay, either. Mac, however, insists I sit by her side, and I spend my evening talking with a two-year-old while her mom watches us the entire time.

She serves dinner to the guests in the family room, setting another place at the table tucked into the kitchen corner. I greedily accept the silent invitation, though we don’t talk much during dinner.

Once it’s bedtime, Beau disappears with Mac while I raid the fridge for a beer. It’s been a long day, and I’d kill for a cold one.

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