Page 16 of Daddy, Sir

“I’m so hungry tonight. I’m practically drooling,” she said, hoping she’d only said that one word out loud.

“What would you like for dinner?”

“Something easy. I hate for you to have to cook for me all the time.”

“I like cooking. And making something for two is much more exciting than throwing something together for myself. How do you feel about breakfast for dinner?”

“My mom used to do that when I was little. I loved it.”

“What’s your favorite breakfast food?” he probed.

“French toast. And bacon.”

“Done. Every Friday is going to be Tatiana's choice,” her Daddy declared.

“No broccoli?” she asked, trying hard not to wrinkle her nose.

“Veggies are good for you. If you try everything throughout the rest of the week, you can have a veggie-free meal on Friday if you wish.”

“Yay!”

“You haven’t protested eating vegetables…” He let his voice fade away.

“I’m a guest. You’re taking great care of me. I’ll eat a bit of anything you put in front of me,” she said honestly.

Jack pulled into the driveway and triggered the garage door to rise. He turned to her and put his hand on her thigh. “I’m counting on you to tell me what you think and how you feel. You are not going to hurt my feelings.”

“My grandmother would roll over in her grave if I didn’t use my good manners. I haven’t forced myself to eat anything I detest. Everything you’ve made has been yummy.”

“Except for the broccoli?” he asked pointedly.

“Mmm. Not my favorite,” she admitted.

“Thank you for letting me know. Now, let’s head inside and put on our comfy clothes, eat some French toast, and maybe watch a movie?”

“And bacon?” she asked, hopeful.

“And bacon,” he promised, and drove into the garage.

A half hour later, she sat on one of the high-backed stools watching him flip golden-brown pieces of yumminess as the bacon cooked in the oven. She’d never seen anyone cook it like that. Tatiana was concerned it wouldn’t taste as good, but she’d decided to trust him.

“What do you put on your French toast? Syrup or powdered sugar?” he asked, looking into the pantry.

“Powdered sugar, of course.” Who wanted soggy French toast?

“Syrup for me,” he shared and turned with both in his hands. When his gaze met hers, he stopped in his tracks and asked playfully, “What? You can’t like me because I prefer syrup?”

“That’s pretty bad. Have you tried it with powdered sugar?” she asked.

“No. Have you tried it with syrup?”

“No,” she admitted. “I’ll try your way if you’ll try mine.”

“Deal.”

In a few minutes, a stack of crispy bacon sat on a plate on the table, accompanied by two plates of French toast. Her Daddy carried her over to her seat before pulling his chair close. Tatiana took a long drink of her chocolate milk as he cut several bites for them.

“What’s first?” Jack asked.

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