Page 17 of Smitten with the Single Dad

Wyatt rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee. “I’ll be sure to drop your laundry off on your uncle’s doorstep.”

Jake had his nose buried in a book, but was nibbling on strawberries without pulling his eyes from the pages.

Toast popped in the toaster and Wyatt went about buttering it. He was competent and confident in the kitchen. Great at time management and multitasking. His brothers, and even some of his kitchen staff, said he’d do well in a TV cooking competition where a million things needed to be on the go at once, but Wyatt wasn’t interested in that. He could multitask, but he didn’t like timeconstraints.

Sure, he needed to get food out in the pub in a prompt and orderly fashion and could do just that, but don’t tell him he has thirty minutes to make a five-course meal with one frying pan and no salt. That was not his idea of fun and nobody could convince him otherwise.

Jake liked his egg yolk runny, while Griffon preferred his cooked through. So Wyatt was busy watching his eggs in the pan when the atmosphere behind him in the kitchen shifted.

“Hi,” Griffon piped up. “Who are you? And what happened to your face?”

Wyatt quickly turned off the burner and spun around. “Griff,” he warned.

“What? What’d I do wrong?” his kid asked, eyes wide in confusion.

“It’s okay,” Vica said, her fat lip twisting as her gentle, brown eyes darted around the kitchen. “I’m Vica,” she said to Griffon. “Umm, and my face …” She glanced at Wyatt.

“A man hurt Vica last night,” Wyatt said, using the spatula to scoop the eggs out of the frying pan and onto a plate. “He tried to kiss her. She didn’t want to. Politely said no and he got mad.”

“So he hit you?” Griffon exclaimed. “Why didn’t he just ask for a high five or a handshake? Or a first bump? Or a wave? That’s what we’re told to do in school. If you ask someone for a kiss or hug, and they say no, you go, ‘okay’ and you offer something else, or just accept it. People don’t owe you a hug or a kiss. I don’t owe grown-ups a hug or a kiss. I don’t owe anybody a hug or a kiss.” He glanced at Wyatt. “I can even say no to you if I want to. If I’m not in the mood.” His gaze softened. “But I’ll never say no, Dad. Don’t worry.”

Wyatt’s heart was close to exploding with pride for his little guy. If a six-year-old could get it, why couldn’t grown-ass adults?

The conversation was intriguing enough that even Jake had set his book down. He glanced at Vica. “Would you like an ice pack for your lip?” He got up without waiting for her response and went to the bottom pull-out freezer part of the fridge and began rummaging around for where they kept the firstaid ice packs. He grabbed one, wrapped it in a tea towel like Wyatt had shown him before, and brought it to Vica. “Here.”

Vica’s eyes welled up with tears as she accepted the ice pack and held it to her mouth. “Grazie.”

“I’ve made a big breakfast for growing young men, but if you think it’ll be too tough to eat, I’m happy to blend you a smoothie or you can have some yogurt and berries.”

“Can I have yogurt?” Griffon asked.

“I just made you a Fisherman’s Breakfast,” Wyatt said, plunking the plate of eggs into the middle of the table beside the toast. The timer for the sausages and bacon in the oven started to chime.

“Yeah, but I want yogurt too.” Griffon leaped off his chair and went to the fridge, pulling out a tub of mango-vanilla yogurt—a house favorite.

Wyatt knew Vica was watching him. He could feel her gaze on his back as he blotted the bacon in a paper towel to remove the grease and transferred the sausages to a plate.

“Or if you think a hot coffee will hurt, I’d be happy to blend you an iced coffee,” he offered, bringing the bacon and sausages over to the table too.

“The yogurt would perfect,” she said beneath the towel and ice pack. “Grazie.”

“What happened to the guy that hit you?” Jake asked, loading up his plate with eggs, bacon, toast, and sausages.

“I hope he’s in jail,” Griffon said, having brought spoons and bowls over to the table from the cupboard. “Did you hit him back?” He quickly glanced at Wyatt. “You said we’re allowed to hit back in self-defense. I’m not being violent, Dad.”

Wyatt resisted the urge to snort.

“I, um,” Vica glanced down at the table.

“She hit him back,” Wyatt said. “She defended herself and got away.”

“Good,” Griffon said, biting into a piece of bacon. “Bullies need to be taughta lesson. I was really proud of Aya when she hit Carnation on the playground. Carnation deserved it.”

“Your cousin was acting in self-defense,” Wyatt said. “But, yes, we’re all aware of the wrath of Carnation.” He glanced at his older son. “Jake, can you please pass the blueberries and get them out of reach of your brother. He’s going to get a bellyache if he keeps eating them like that.”

Jake passed the bowl to Wyatt, and Wyatt earned himself a glare from Griffon.

Wyatt was all about being honest and transparent with his sons. However, he wasn’t sure if he should tell them that Vica ended up killing the man who attacked her. He was sure his boys would be on Vica’s side, but they were still just kids. Eight and six, for crying out loud; and a man died on their property. He didn’t want to traumatize them.

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