Page 24 of Hat Trick Holidate

She shakes her head no.

“Well, it’s what you do when you take the same items but use them differently. Have you ever cooked?”

Again, she moves her head from left to right. At this age, my mom had me standing on chairs, helping her cook everything. I guess that’s where my love of food came from—my mom.

I always loved how she would say, “Emmaline made the sauce. Or Emmaline whipped up the frosting to perfection.”

I pick up Jolie’s plate, set it on the counter, and a relieved expression washes over her face, thinking she doesn’t haveto eat it. “Come on.” I grab her and sit her on the island. Then I scour the kitchen for a bowl, a baking dish, soup, and cheese.

“Okay, the first thing we’re going to do is cut the chicken. I know you’re not a baby, but have you used a knife?”

No.

Standing behind her, I hold her hands with a fork and knife and show her how to cut the chicken. She saws at it like she’s cutting through steel but eventually, the piece breaks off. “Doing good. Can you cut a few more slices?”

Yes, she nods.

When she’s finished, I ask if she likes cheese, and she rewards me with a huge grin.

“Now comes the fun part. Are you ready? I’m going to hold the bowl, and you’re going to throw in one piece of broccoli, one piece of chicken, and I’ll put in a spoon of rice. We’ll do it over and over again until we have none left.”

Confused, her eyebrows pinch together. Yep, she’s realizing she still has to eat the chicken and broccoli.

“Ready, go.”

I move the bowl in different spots on the island like she has to make a basket. It doesn’t take long for her to be all smiles. Then we put the mixture into a casserole dish, and she layers the cheese on top.

Her dad clears his throat, just as Jolie crunches up the crackers on the top. I don’t know how long he has been standing there. His kitchen is a mess, for the first time since he moved in.

Damn, he’s fiiine. The tailored, light-blue dress shirt fits perfectly over his torso, stretching in all theright spots as he moves. I cannot wait for him to turn around and leave so I can see his ass.

As if he can read my mind, he states, “I need to go.”

“Okay, we’re just re-imagining dinner. Any instructions?”

“I try to have her in bed by nine, but we’re close to that already.”

I put the casserole into the oven and set the timer. “Jolie, are you ready to play a game? If so, give your dad a hug goodbye, and we’re going to play the game where you put on as many clothes and accessories on me in five minutes. When we’re done, I’ll let you use my phone to take a photo and send to your dad.”

She reluctantly stands in front of the enormous man in front of her. Bryce wraps her into his arms, but Jolie doesn’t reciprocate the hug—just hangs her arms over him without squeezing. He puts her down, and she follows my instructions.

“Raise a lot of money tonight. And if you’re going to be extra late, can you text me?”

“I won’t be.” Our eyes collide, and I can’t force them to look anywhere but at him. I wonder if he knows who I am. “Call me if… you need me to come home.”

After I put her to bed, it’s a distinct possibility.

nine

BRYCE

Watchingher with Jolie does something to my stomach. I’m mesmerized by how Emmaline interacts with Jolie, even though my little girl doesn’t speak. Who knew throwing broccoli into a bowl could be so fun? I watch from the security feed on my phone. My little girl is all smiles. And the gorgeous redhead is too.

I pad down the stairs as light footed as possible to sneak a peek at them. Spying on them could give me some pointers on how to get Jolie to open up to me.

Jolie holds crackers in her pudgy hands, squeezing them until they disintegrate into tiny pieces, and she uses chef fingers to spread the crumbs around. She’s adorable sitting on the counter in her frilly dress.

I clear my throat, and Emmaline’s eyes widen, capturing me in her gaze. She’s so fucking beautiful.

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