Emma shot me a grateful look over the top of the book. I winked back, ignoring the way my heart skipped when she smiled.

The morning continued like that – Emma reading, me running interference with creative games and quiet activities. When she picked up “The Three Little Pigs,” I couldn’t resist. I grabbed a scarf from the prop box and transformed into the Big Bad Wolf, earning delighted giggles from our audience.

“I’ll huff, and I’ll puff,” I growled playfully, making the scarf dance in the air.

“And I’ll blow your house down!” the kids chorused back.

Emma rolled her eyes, but she was fighting back a laugh. I caught her watching me during quiet moments, something unreadable in her expression.

As the morning wound down, we moved into craft time. I found myself at a small table with four kids, helping them turn paper bags into puppets while Emma led another group in creating bookmarks. Silvy manned the glitter station – a decision I suspected we’d all regret when cleanup time came.

“Mr. Wade,” a little girl with missing front teeth tugged at my sleeve, “can you make mine roar like your wolf?”

“Let’s see what we can do.” I helped her attach red yarn for hair, watching as she meticulously glued on googly eyes. “What should we name her?”

“Sophia,” she declared. “Like me.”

“Excellent choice.” I caught Emma watching us again, that same unreadable expression on her face. When our eyes met, she quickly looked away, focusing intently on the bookmark in front of her.

By the time the last family left, the store looked like a craft supply store had exploded. Glitter covered every surface – including Porky, who now sparkled like a fuzzy disco ball – and scraps of paper littered the floor.

“I told you the glitter was a bad idea,” Emma muttered to Silvy, who just grinned.

“Worth it. Did you see little Tommy’s face when his dragon sparkled?”

I started gathering scattered cushions, trying to restore some order to the mess. “Need help cleaning up?”

“You’ve done more than enough,” Emma said, but Silvy cut her off.

“Actually, I need to run. Dentist appointment.” She did some gun shooting hand-gesture thing, grabbed her bag, and shot Emma a look that clearly meant something I couldn’t decipher. “You two can handle this, right?”

Before either of us could respond, she was gone, the bell chiming in her wake.

“Subtle,” Emma muttered, then louder, “You really don’t have to stay, Wade, thanks. You’ve done a lot already.”

“No worries. I want to.” I started wiping down tables. “Besides, someone needs to help you de-glitter Porky before he takes all the glitter home to your cottage.”

She laughed – a real laugh, not her usual guarded chuckle – and the sound did something to my insides. “Fine. But this doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course not.” I grinned. “Just two people cleaning up after a hurricane of kindergarteners. Totally normal Saturday.”

We worked in comfortable silence for a while, occasionally breaking it to share observations about the morning. How Sophie had practically memorized “Where the Wild Things Are.” The way Tommy’s dragon puppet had breathed actual fire (thanks to some creative use of tissue paper).

“You were good with them,” she said finally, straightening a stack of picture books. “The kids, I mean. I wouldn’t have expected...”

“A billionaire playboy recluse with no soul to know how to connect with children?”

She had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Something like that.”

I shrugged, trying to keep my tone light despite the weight settling in my chest. “I used to read to my sister a lot, when we were young. Before...” I trailed off, not interested in going there. “Anyway, kids are easy. They don’t care about stock portfolios or corporate mergers. They just want someone to play along with their imagination.”

Emma was quiet for a moment, studying me. “There’s more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there, Wade James?”

“I could say the same about you.” I met her gaze. “Why books? Why here?”

She tensed slightly, then relaxed. “It’s... complicated.”

“I’ve got time.” I gestured to the still-glitter-covered floor. “We’re going to be here a while anyway.”