Page 32 of Hat Trick Holidate

I’m surprised when Jolie touches my arm, indicating she wants to sir the batter together.

“Hey, last night you two reimagined the broccoli. Do you want to put something in the pancakes? Like blueberries?”

Jolie shakes her head, yes, so Emmaline gives Jolie a handful and lets her drop them into the bowl. When the cooktop griddle is hot enough, I pour the batter. I flip them onto a plate once they’re perfectly fluffy. Jolie’s shrieks in delight cause my heart to ricochet off my rib cage.

Emmaline pours the syrup and then Jolie sprinklespowdered sugar over the top. Add a glass of milk, and Jolie is eating breakfast after only one meltdown.

“You’re full of surprises, Wynward. How many things can you cook?”

I shrug my shoulders. “A few. In college, we grilled out a lot. We lived in what was called the Hockey Plex. It was an old apartment complex specifically for hockey players, but it did have outside grills and picnic tables and an open field behind it. Party central.”

She wedges off a piece of pancake with the side of her fork, sticks it between her sweet lips, and I swear I get a hard on as she slides it off her fork with her teeth.

To distract me, I glance at Jolie, who is nearly finished and has a milk mustache. Emmaline swallows a drink of milk herself and says, “Wynward, vote for the best milk mustache. Mine or Jolie’s?”

“Hmm.” I study them both by putting my fingers under their chins and turning them left and right. “The winner of the milk mustache competition is Jolie because hers looks like the wings of a jet and since I’m a Georgia Jet, Jolie wins.”

Jolie celebrates her victory in silence with only a grin that stretches from ear to ear.

“Wash your hands and meet us in the living room. Emmaline and I want to talk to you.” Sliding off the chair, Jolie follows my directions. Today is a good day.

“Are you ready to make a schedule?” Emmaline’s voice brings me back to reality.

I nod eagerly, ready to dive into her. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to see Emmaline every day, even if it’s for Jolie and not me. Somehow, I have to get her out of my head. “Let’s do it.”

I tap on my phone for my schedule as we walk into the den and sit on the couch. Emmaline pulls out a larger paper planner from her tote with a few colors of pens.

“Old school, huh?”

“I never trust my phone. I can’t tell you how many alarms I’ve set for eight at night instead of eight in the morning.”

As I crane my neck, the word gym is written in red. “I’m serious about you using my gym.”

“Thanks, but I do mixed martial arts and need to be in class a few days a week,” she says like it’s nothing.

“Wow, I didn’t expect that. How long have you been training?”

“Seven years or so. I wanted to have something that was mine. Roman has hockey, and I have MMA. I joined a class last week, so I’ll just do it early before coming here.”

We go over my schedule and realize I need to leave for practice in thirty minutes. Emmaline already had all the Jets games in her planner, but we add practice times for the month and a few professional obligations, parties, commercials, etc.

Jolie shuffles into the room with her bear that she holds close but not as tight as when she first arrived. I reach for her, sitting her on the cushion between us.

“Jolie, Emmaline is going to be your nanny. It means she’ll be here on most days whenever I have practice or work. She’ll bring you to the hockey games, read with you, play games, and teach you. Would you like that?”

She nods in excitement.

I hand Emmaline two cards. “You’ll need this key card for the elevator, which will bring you directly to thepenthouse.” Then I hand her a black American Express card. “And this is for whatever you and Jolie need. If you want to go to the movies, shopping, or to the children’s museum. I ordered a card with your name on it, but it won’t be here for a day or two.”

“Thanks.”

I hop up from the couch and run upstairs to change out of my lounge pants and t-shirt into my practice gear. Since I’m running late, I just say, “See you girls later. Don’t hesitate to call me. Of course, I can’t answer until I’m in the locker room. If it’s an emergency, call the … shit, I’ll text you the office number.”

“We’ll be fine. Go before you’re late.”

With my lips pressed into a thin line, I agree and then hustle downstairs and drive my own vehicle to practice. I want my driver to be available for whatever Emmaline and Jolie need, but I forgot to tell Emmaline. Damn, I need to be more organized. I’m not used to thinking about others. Not that I’m a bad guy. I’m not. It’s just that this is all so new.

I tap on her contact and call. “Hey, I forgot to tell you that my driver is available to you. I’m sending you his contact number. If you and Jolie want to go anywhere, he’ll take you.”

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