Page 67 of Dear Mr. Brody

“Please.”

“I love kids, don’t get me wrong. But I’m nervous. What if I do something I shouldn’t, like swear or—”

“I swear all the time. Lanie and I have never been PG-parents.”

He laughed and leaned close enough I could feel his breath on my lips. “It’s going to be hard not touching you tonight.”

“It’ll be good practice for tomorrow when we’re in class.”

“Can I kiss you again before we go inside?”

Pulling me into his strong arms, he pressed his chest against me as I nodded. My heart thundered, a shiver spreading over my skin as his mouth melded to mine. The kiss was messy and fast, and when he pulled away, I licked my lips, savoring the sweet taste he’d left behind.

“Do you like mushrooms?” I asked and he laughed, the deep rumble of it vibrated against me.

“Not particularly.”

“What about waffles?”

“Who doesn’t like waffles?”

I smiled, his answer lifting the weight off my shoulders.

“I think you and Anne will get along just fine.”

Parker

A little girl with dark hair and gray eyes, like her father’s, blinked up at me as I walked into the kitchen. When I’d met Lanie at the door, I had to admit I’d been intimidated. I didn’t have to be straight to acknowledge that she was fucking gorgeous. I had a moment where I doubted myself. She had all this history she shared with Van, this woman who’d stood next to him in the doorway looking like she fit into his life way more than I might ever be able. I was a confident guy. But right now, with this small, delicate version of Van sitting before me, I’d never been this damn nervous in my entire life. The kind of nervous that made my palms sweaty. Shoving my hands into my back pockets, I gave her a smile.

“Hi…” she said, wrinkling her nose at the mushroom she had in her hand. “Who are you?”

“Anne.” Van gave her a look that reminded me of my mom, and I had to hold back a laugh. “Where are your manners, little monster?”

“What did I say?” she asked, and a chuckle escaped past my lips.

Little monster.

Van smiled at me, and a heavy warmth filled my stomach. Apparently, I had a thing for dads.

“It’s okay,” I said, fighting a sudden urge to tug on one of her pigtails. “My name’s Parker, I’m a… friend of your dad’s.”

“I’m Anne.” She dropped the mushroom onto the cutting board with a bored expression. “Do we have to eat these?”

“No… I can save them for another day.” Van’s eyes slid in my direction as he walked around the counter. “Parker doesn’t like mushrooms either.”

Anne hopped down from her stool, and I thought she was tall for a ten-year-old. It was another trait she’d gotten from her father. But she stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, all balls and confidence, sizing me up in a way Van’s shyness would have never allowed.

“What about waffles?” she asked.

“The best breakfast dish, in my opinion. Van says you’re an expert waffle maker.”

“Toppings expert,” she said, grinning, and scooted past me toward the fridge.

Van watched us as he scooped the veggies he’d cut up earlier into a plastic container. His gray gaze smiling, and hell if I didn’t feel some type of pride taking root in my chest. Like maybe I wouldn’t fuck this up tonight and ruin whatever progress we’d made over the last couple of days.

“That sounds official,” I said, holding Van’s stare, and leaned my elbows on the counter. “How did you become a toppings expert?”

“Practice,” she said, but it sounded more like, “duh.”

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