Page 63 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
A heartbeat passes.
I raise a brow. “Seriously?”
Then the moment of stillness shatters as the kids let out an ear-piercing scream.
"Daddy! Daddy’s home!"
Before I can brace myself, they launch at me, their little flour-covered bodies colliding with my legs. I scoop them up effortlessly, laughing as they wrap their arms around my neck.
“I’ve been gone for just three days, and I’ve already been replaced, huh?”
Nico shakes his head furiously. “Uh-uh! I missed you lots, Daddy!”
“I missed you too, Daddy!” Mia echoes, squeezing me tighter.
I press a kiss to each of their cheeks, their giggles filling my ears. Mia pulls back, pointing at my lips, eyes wide. "Daddy, your mouth is white!"
I run my tongue over them and, sure enough, I taste the flour. I huff out a laugh before turning my gaze toward Whitney. She’s standing near the counter, using a napkin to clean off her arms.
“Hi,” she says, a small smile on her lips. “Welcome back.”
I lower the kids; my gaze never leaves hers. “Good to be back.” I pause, glancing around at the mess. “But…, should I even ask what’s going on here?”
She clears her throat, feigning innocence. “Well, we were baking cookies and, uh, the flour gods descended upon us and demanded we appease them.”
I arch a brow. “Is that so?”
“Yep. Had to be done.” She shrugs.
I chuckle, shaking my head.
She presses her lips together, but the corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile.
“Well, if that’s the case…” I step forward, dipping my fingers into the nearest flour bag. “I think I should pay my respects too.”
Before she can react, I flick a light puff of flour at her.
She gasps, staring at me, scandalized. The twins let out identical shrieks of excitement. “You did not just…?”
I grin. “Oh, I did.”
And just like that, the fight resumes. Laughter fills the kitchen as flour flies through the air, dusting all of us until we’re a complete mess.
“You know you can’t win?”
I cross my arms, feigning confidence. “I’m a pro athlete, Whit. I think I can handle a little flour fight.”
She hums, her lips twitching like she’s holding back a smile. “You’re also slow and predictable.”
I scoff. “Slow? Predictable?”
“Mmmm,” she suddenly lifts her hand and smears flour right across my jawline.
I blink.
She grins. “Told you.”
The twins burst into laughter.
