Page 68 of Dear Mr. Brody

Van let out a soft laugh as she set a carton of blueberries and strawberries onto the counter. Fuck, he was attractive, more casual than I’d ever seen him in loose-fitting jeans and a light gray t-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders. His hair was messy from my fingers, his lips full from our kiss, and when I smiled at him, he blushed.

It was going to be a long night.

“Strawberries or blueberries?” Anne asked, her voice as serious as if she’d asked me about the purpose of life.

“Both.”

She nodded satisfied. “Syrup or whipped cream?”

“Um…” I hesitated and any confidence she had in me evaporated as she narrowed her eyes.Well, goddamn. “Both?”

“I agree.”

“This is a test, if you haven’t noticed,” Van warned, snapping the lid shut on the veggies.

“I’m sensing that.” I smirked, and he grinned as he cleaned up what I assumed he’d originally planned on making us for dinner, leaving me to his daughter’s inquisition.

“Nutella?” she asked with an anxious furrow of her brows.

Unfortunately, I had no idea what the hell Nutella was, and I cringed when I said as much. “I’ve never had it.”

Her mouth popped open as she shared a look with her dad.

“Uh-oh…” He gently squeezed his daughter’s shoulder as he placed a waffle iron on the counter. “Go easy on him… I’d kind of like it if he stuck around for a while.”

Hiding my amusement, I rounded the counter and inched in beside him. Lowering my voice, I asked, “You want me around for a while, huh?”

Lightly touching my finger to his thumb, he turned to face me, both of us staring at each other, his slow smile so damn tempting. Maybe an adult would’ve keyed in on how close together we were, but his daughter didn’t seem to notice.

“He has to try it, Dad.” She placed a jar on the counter. “Like, hehasto.”

Van was the first to look away, shaking his head, he said, “Parker doesn’thaveto do anything. Be polite.”

“But he has—”

“Hazelnut?” I asked and winked at her as I picked up the jar for a better look. “Is it like peanut butter?”

“No.” She laughed. “Here…” She reached into a drawer and pulled out a spoon. “Just taste it. It’s way better than peanut butter. Do you like chocolate?”

“Is that even a question?”

Van laughed and leaned his hip against the edge of the granite counter. “I’m not a fan.”

“What?” I asked, adding as much mock horror to my voice as possible, and his daughter giggled. “That’s… I don’t even know what to say, Van. I’m not sure we’re friends anymore, if I’m being honest.”

“My mom isn’t a big fan either. They’re both weirdos.” Anne handed me the spoon, the expectation in her eyes overwhelmed me, like this one thing could make or break my chance at becoming her waffle-loving soulmate. “I hope you like it.”

“Wow,” I said with a mouth full of epic. “This is fu—freaking amazing.”

“Yes! It’s the best.” She pumped her fist and wiggled her hips. Probably the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

“Nice save.” Van laughed, forgetting himself as he brushed his thumb over the bottom corner of my mouth. When my lips parted with a quiet exhale, his eyes widened and darted to his daughter. “Sorry, you had some chocolate—”

“Thanks,” I interrupted him and tried to divert her attention since she’d started to stare at us like we had four heads. Or maybe I was paranoid. Either way, I needed to give myself some distance from Van before I mauled him in front of his daughter. “I think I want to try Nutella and strawberries on my waffle.”

“That’s my favorite, but you need whipped cream… oh, and cookie butter too,” she said, turning toward the pantry. “I’ll grab the waffle mix.”

Moving to the other side of the counter, I grabbed a stool and sat down. Van mouthed the words “I’m sorry,” and I whispered, “I’m not.”

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