Page 78 of Calamity Rayne Knocked Up

I wiped my nose on my shoulder and sniffled. “You can make it up to me tomorrow morning when we hit all the Black Friday sales at six a.m.”

He drew back in horror. “Excuse me?”

“We’re going shopping.” I wiped my eyes, getting flour on my cheek. “Tomorrow. At six a.m. I need maternity clothes.”

“You want to go shopping on Black Friday?”

“Yes. Early.” I kissed his nose, making sure to get a little flour on his cheek as well. “So don’t drink too much at yourbro-orgy.”

He groaned and stood. “The things I do for love.” He pulled a floral apron off the peg in the pantry and tied the ruffled bow at his back. “Let’s do this.”

“Wait, what?”

“We’re making a pie.” He peeked into the sauce pans on the stove. “I’m guessing this is us?”

“What about your company?”

“You asked me to be present. I’m present. Let’s bake this pie.” He looked toward the door. “Elara!”

She came running into the kitchendragging her baby doll by the ankle and whacking its plastic head on the floor. “Daddy!” She laughed at the sight of him in the apron. “That’s Marta’s pray-prin.”

Hale scooped her up and sat her on the island. “It’s mine now.” He handed her a wooden spoon. “Hold this.”

I called the others back into the kitchen and waved Hale out of their way. Only Marta and my mother returned. Once I showed him how to fold the ingredients, he helped Elara work the dough.

Remington appeared. “What the hell’s going on? I have a chef claiming he can’t work in these conditions.” He did a double take at his son in the apron. “What the hell are you wearing, Hale? Or is it Hazel?”

“Hugo can come back in, Remington. Hale and I just needed a minute.”

“To do what? Hale, you’re in the middle of a blackjack tournament.”

“Deal me out. I’ve moved on to pie.” Hale snagged a spatula from the drawer, determined not to touch the dough with his hands.

Remington scowled as my mother nudged him out of the way. Shecarried a tray of ice water, shortening, and cubed butter to the table.

“Remington, I’m going to tell you what I used to tell my Rayne when she was little. If you’re not going to help, get out of the kitchen.”

I hid a laugh as Remington’s face darkened. No one had the balls to dismiss Remington Davenport—except for Penny Meyers apparently.

“This is my damn kitchen.”

“And it’s damn full right now, Remington.” My mother steered him toward the door. “Go play with your friends, and we’ll call you when supper’s ready.”

“And send Hugo back in,” I yelled as the housemaster was driven into the hall, efficiently exiled from his own kitchen.

Hale and Marta chuckled. As we worked, my mother hummed a familiar tune. Once Hugo returned, she started to sing, “From now on, our troubles will be miles away…”

I chimed in,“Here we are…”

Hale took over with a deep baritone, “As in olden days...”

I smiled up at him as I folded the dough. “Happy golden days…”

We looked expectantly at Hugo, who scowled. “I do not sing.”

“That just won’t work, Hugo,” my mother chirped, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “I have an app that shows the lyrics.” She propped her phone in front of the grumpy Belgian chef and hit play. “Singing always makes the food taste better.”

The recognizable beat ofJingle Bell Rockplayed from her phone and she pointed to the lyrics on the screen. “See here?Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle rock.Go on. You try.”

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