Page 56 of Stables

I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Huh?”

The broad brim of his hat shifts as he shakes his head. “Nothing. Let me toss these on the grill.”

He disappears outside, which is fine, I have a few extra veggies to process for the freezer anyways.

“Mommy, hungry.” Paisley pads into the kitchen, one bare foot slapping against the linoleum, the socked one nearly silent.

“Let me get your high chair ready, baby girl. I hope Dixon doesn’t mind lifting you into it again.” I don’t see any mess from lunch. Libby was in charge today.

“Daddy Dixon.” Paisley stands on her tiptoes and taps the white plastic tray with the flat of her hand.

Crap. “No, just Dixon.”

“Just Dixon, what?” he asks, carrying a sizzling plate with two seared steaks. Tossing down a leather glove, he sets the food onto the counter.

“Um, I was wondering if you minded putting her in her seat again?” I hope he didn’t hear what she really said.

“Of course.” He squats so he’s closer to her level. “Paisley, can I lift you up?”

Why is it when he spreads his hands, I want to rush between them myself?

Stop it.

Paisley takes my moment, running to jump into his waiting arms.

He swings her up, making her giggle.

I swear my heart double beats.

“A throne for a princess.” He deftly threads her legs through the holes and sits her down.

“Uh huh, Princess Paisley.” She holds out her pudgy arms as if she’s calming a raging crowd.

When he turns back, there’s a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Doesn’t that make you the queen?” A smile traces its way over his full lips before he ducks beneath the brim of his hat.

Fire races through my body. There is nothing regal about the thoughts going through my head.

So many sentences sit on the tip of my tongue.

But none spill out.

The zucchini is done. It’s easy to busy myself with pulling it out of the stove.

I have to look away from him. It’s so hard not to want to stare and try to absorb every feature.

An even stronger temptation is to follow every contour with my fingertips.

Explore every muscle.

Every bulge.

Is he really as big as he looked in the pale morning light?

I want to know.

“Mommy!” Paisley rattles my concentration.

Dixon has already cut a piece from his steak and is slicing it into tiny bites.

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