Page 35 of Stick Move

I open my door and listen for noise from across the hall. When my ears are met with silence, I debate my next move. What if Camryn and Noah are still asleep? Should I make pancakes and deliver? I have no idea if Noah bought groceries. Taking a chance, I pad across the hall, and lightly tap on the door. I listen, and wait, and just when I’m about to head back to my side of the house, a very sleepy Camryn pulls open the door and my heart warms when I see she’s clutching Charlie.

“Good morning,” I greet in a cheerful voice, and her face lights up.

“Ms. Brighton.”

I take in her mess of blonde hair, and the way her nightgown is twisted around her tiny hips, and bend to tuck a few loose strands behind her ears. “Did I wake you?” She nods, and as she rubs her tired little blue eyes, I point to the open door of my suite. “I can come back later if you want to go back to bed.”

“Uh un.” Her eyes go wide, like she has a huge secret. “I want pancakes and I want lumps.”

“Okay,” I say with a laugh. I’ve never met a child who wanted lumpy pancakes before. What the heck is that all about?

She snatches my hand. “Let’s go wake Daddy.”

She drags me through the living room and down the hall and as I pass by that’s when I notice just how sparse his place is. Most of the boxes have been unpacked, so it’s not like he’s yet to hang pictures or put out personal items that hold meaning.

Noah’s door is cracked open a bit. He must have left it open to hear Camryn after he walked me back to my end of the house last night, right after our conversation in the den. I was surprised at how quickly the conversation ended, to be honest. One minute he was smiling and aroused, the next he seemed a bit somber, and wanting to call it a night. In the end, I chalked it up to him being tired after the move and having to get up early with Camryn.

“Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.” Camryn shoves his door open, runs as fast as she can and lands on top of her sleeping father. He groans and rolls and I suspect her knee might have landed in parts unknown—well, not unknown to me. Not after last night, anyway. I steal a glance around. Last night I was too busy with other things to notice how sparse his bedroom is too. It definitely needs a woman’s touch.

“Camryn, Bean, what are you doing up so early?” He holds her tight, his big hands hugging her to him, unaware of my presence, and my heart melts into a pile of goo at my feet as he kisses the top of her head. There so much love in the room—between them—it’s palpable, beautiful and while I love it, I can’t help but feel a tinge of envy, never having had such a close relationship with my own father.

What would it be like to have a child, a family of my own? My hand goes to my stomach, and a wave of longing grips me. My biological clock is ticking louder than ever, compliments of the sight before me.

“Ms. Brighton is going to make me lumpy pancakes,” Camryn practically shouts, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Oh Bean, we don’t need to wake Ms. Brighton.” He lightly taps her nose and she giggles. “And remember what I told you about lumpy pancakes last night.”

I stand a little straighter, intrigued. What did he tell her about lumpy pancakes? I heard a bit of their conversation, but nothing about pancakes. I lean in to hear more, but don’t get to find out the magic, or lack thereof, behind lumpy pancakes, because Camryn starts jumping on the bed.

“Ms. Brighton is here. Ms. Brighton is here. We can have lumpy pancakes.”

“What?” Noah asks. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up and I inch back, worried that I’m invading their privacy and a special moment between them. Dark eyes meet mine and heat up even more as they race down the length of my flirty floral sundress.

“Hey,” he says, his voice an octave deeper as he adjusts the blankets around his hips.

Ugh, this is awkward. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s okay.”

I wave my hand behind me. “For some reason, I thought you two were early risers, and I knocked, and actually I thought I’d spotted you jogging near the ocean…” Stop rambling, Brighton.

“You’re a morning person, huh?” His smile calms me, and I exhale as I pull myself together.

“Yes, and I wasn’t sure what time you guys were up and I didn’t want to miss breakfast.”

“Lumpy pancakes,” Camryn shouts and when I arch a curious brow at Noah, he shakes his head, conveying without words that I don’t want to know.

I laugh at Camryn’s burst of energy. “Does she always greet you like that?”

“Yes, and it’s nice, except when…” He points down. “Foot meets…” He lets his words fall off, and I grin.

“That happens often, huh?”

He cringes, a pained look in his eyes. “More often than you’d think.”

I laugh at that. “Ouch.” Camryn continues to jump on the bed. “Hey Camryn. Look at the pillow. Do you see the sp…” Noah goes deathly still and Camryn watches me. “Sparkles,” I explain pointing to the pillow. “They must be from your nighty.” I grin at Noah. “Did you think I was going to say spider?” Noah shakes his head at me, his eyes dark and stormy, conveying a message that I’m going to pay for that.

“I see sparkles,” Camryn shouts.

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