Page 78 of When We Burn

His lips twitch, and then he bends down and kisses me. Not a little peck, but a full-blown, erase-my-mind-of-all-rational-thought kiss. His tongue nudges against the seam of my mouth, and I open for him and wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him.

“Grown-up kisses aregross.” Birdie makes gagging noises, making us laugh as we pull apart, and I return to my stool. “Daddy said you’re going to kiss in front of me, but not all the time, okay?”

My eyes whip to the man in question. He told her?

“And Birdie’s very happy that you’re going to be spending more time with us,” Bridger agrees, smiling at me so sweetly, I want to climb over this island and go back to the kissing. “Right, peanut?”

“Yeah, you’re his girlfriend. You can stay the night.”

At that, I start to cough on my own spit, because I wasnotexpecting that to come out of a five-year-old’s mouth.

“And Pickles can stay, too. So she’s not lonely,” Birdie adds, so matter-of-factly, as if she’s got it all sorted out.

She’s the cutest ever.

Bridger slides a glass of water over to me, that smile still firmly in place, and as I raise the glass to my mouth, he bites his lower lip, as if he’s trying to keep himself from laughing his butt off.

“Oh, this is funny, huh?”

He shakes his head, chuckling as he rolls peanut butter cookie balls between his palms and sets them on the cookie sheet. “You’re adorable. You should have seen your face. Anyway, now that we have all of that cleared up, Birdie saw Blake, and she’s got some sort of a bug. So, he gave her a breathing treatment and told her to lie low for a few days until it’s gone. No more running around.”

“I like to run around,” Birdie says with a frown. “I’m good at it.”

“You really are good at it,” I agree. “But you can hold off for a few days, and then you’ll be even better at it.”

“Does this mean I can’t go to dance class on Saturday?” Birdie asks her father, horror filling her brown eyes.

“Oh, you enrolled her? I’m so glad. I met Skyla, the owner, at Bee’s shop the other day, and she wassonice. And seriously beautiful.”

I frown down at my hands. I really shouldn’t have mentioned the latter, but she really is so pretty.

“No one holds a candle to you, kitten.”

I snort, and Bridger freezes, the fork in his hand pausing in the middle of helping Birdie to make crisscross figures in the dough, and only his eyes lift to mine.

“Are you telling me that I haven’t made it perfectly clear how gorgeous you are?”

And just like that, the man has me tongue-tied.

“You have made it clear that you find me attractive, yes. This is not a conversation to have in front of your daughter.”

Birdie looks at me and then at her dad, and Bridger sets the fork down altogether, leans on the counter, and frowns at me.

Oh, jeez, I didn’t mean to make him mad at me. My stomach sinks, and I wish I could erase the last three minutes of conversation entirely.

“I disagree,” he replies. “I think it’s important for my daughter to see that her dad thinks his woman is the most beautiful girl in the world. Because you are.”

I feel my cheeks darken with embarrassment, and I simply shrug. “Thanks. Anyway, how exciting for dance. You must be so happy, Birdie.”

Bridger’s eyes narrow as he watches me, but he drops the subject and goes back to helping Birdie get the dough situated on the pan as the little girl tells me all about how ready she is for her new class.

Bridger slides the pan into the oven, and Birdie yawns.

“Can I go watch my tablet in my room?” she asks him.

“Sure. I’ll let you know when the cookies are ready to eat.”

“Okay!” She jumps off her stool and starts to run off, but Bridger stops her.

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