Page 49 of The Bitter Heir and the Beauty

“I didn’t figure you for a cook.”

“I’m a firefighter.”

“Exactly.”

“At least once a week, I’m on chef duty for the guys.”

“Burgers. It fits.”

“And I make a mean fettuccini Alfredo, get seconds requests for my chicken soup, and there are never leftovers when I make pulled pork nachos. Still working on my rib game, though. Dish up.”

I reach for Leoni and he arches an eyebrow, stopping me in my tracks.

Maddock repeats, “Fill up a plate and then you can take the baby.”

“Fine. Sheesh. No reason to be mean about it.” But the idea of eating a meal off a plate, no less sitting down and one that he prepared for me after not doing so in nearly five months sounds like a gift—one I’m not going to turn down, thanks to Mrs. Daley’s lecture.

As if an afterthought, Maddock says, “I wasn’t being mean. More like direct. Has anyone ever told you that you’re stubborn?”

“You’ve mentioned. But other than you and Jesse, no.”

He grunts. “Probably because they know how you’ll respond.”

I’m about to do just that when Leonie laughs.

Point taken.

Nothing like becoming a parent to learn humility. Unless you’re my mother.

As I take a seat and Maddock sets a burger on my bun, I think back to all the nights we spent in this very house—her laughter filtering from the other room as she entertained gullible gamblers. Meanwhile, my stomach rumbled with hunger—for food and a way out of that life.

I jump to my feet. “Wait. What about Leonie?”

He gestures I calm down, or sit down, I’m not sure. I’m about ready to karate chop his big hand, not that I know how without breaking my own. “She ate an hour ago.”

I gasp, glancing at the food on our plates. “What did you feed her?”

“Milk.”

“She’s too young. She can’t have regular?—”

“Chill. I gave her the baby milk you’d put in the fridge.”

“How much? What was the temperature? Did you clean?—?”

Maddock looks me square in the face. “Honey, I understand that you’re a do-it-yourselfer. But I work as part of a team. I called the Coffee Loft and Tallula gave me Mara’s number. She walked me through what to do.”

I slouch into my chair, relieved. “Thank you.”

The corner of his lip lifts in a smile. “No need to thank me.”

Leonie, now seated in the play saucer, kicks her feet, but for once, her sock doesn’t fly off.

I pick up my hamburger to take a bite, then set it down. A nagging question holds my appetite hostage. “Before, you had a very clear aversion to babies ... and me. What changed?”

I notice he’s hardly touched his meal as he makes sure we have everything we need. He stops and looks at me again as if maybe I have the answer. “I don’t know.”

It’s not like Maddock and I cleared the air—it’s as gummy and humid as ever, at least outside—but it does seem like we turned a page.

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