Page 15 of Claimed By the Cowboys
“Yay! Miss Emmy!” Maisie shouted, jumping happily on the spot. Maisie grabbed my hand and started pulling me back toward the house. Apparently, she was a big fan of Emmy’s. Not that I blamed her. Emmy, Evelyn’s granddaughter, and I had become fast friends during my short stay at the diner.
That, along with Maisie grabbing my hand, made me smile. It meant she was warming up to me.
I’d found that children tended to be open-minded, just needing that initial time to warm up to someone.
Apparently, my egg-retrieving skills meant I was good enough in her eyes.
Once we were inside and our shoes were off, Dakota turned to me. “I’m going to go grab some tools, I need to fix a leaky faucet in the downstairs utility room, so how about you girls rustle up some lunch for you and Miss Emmy?”
He was leaving me to my own devices with Maisie.
It was a test.
He wasn’t being obvious about it, but I could tell.
“Bye, Daddy!” Maisie declared excitedly, waving frantically as he left through the back door.
“Okay, Miss Maisie, what do you want for lunch?” I asked, picking her up and popping her onto the counter so she was a little closer to eye level. It was early still, but I had been warned that Maisie liked an early lunch.
“Mac and cheese?” she asked sweetly.
I cocked my head to the side, deep in thought. Mac and cheese was a staple in most children’s diets.
“Why don’t I look and see if we have all the ingredients?”
Her head cocked to the side in confusion, and it was so darn sweet, I had to resist the urge to squeeze her. “Do we have a box?”
A box? Did she mean boxed mac and cheese?
“Let me have a look and see what we have,” I said, glancing over the contents of the fridge and a few of the cabinets, while Maisie swung her legs around happily.
Thankfully, they were decently stocked.
Spotting several heads of broccoli, I suggested, “How about I make some extra cheesy macaroni with cheesy broccoli and chicken tenders?”
Mac and cheese was amazing, but nutritionally, it could be somewhat lacking. The chicken tenders would add a little protein, and a vegetable was always a good addition.
Maisie’s eyes widened. “Cheesy broccoli?” she asked, her tone one of amazement.
I nodded, pulling a few blocks of cheese from the fridge, as well as a gallon of milk. “Do you want to be my helper?”
Her nod was so enthusiastic, she almost fell off the counter. When I went to steady her, her baby powder scent that clung to most children hit me, comforting and sweet.
Thirty minutes later, the mac and cheese was bubbling in the oven and was about ready to be dished when Emmy came walking into the kitchen carrying several bags, a large smile on her face.
“Well, hello there! Something smells good.”
“Emmy!” Maisie squealed, running over to hug her.
“How are you, Maisie? Being good for your daddies?” Emmy asked.
“The bestest!” She nodded enthusiastically.
“I’m just about to dish if you’re hungry,” I offered, pulling the mac and cheese out of the oven.
“I’ve got to get back to the diner, but I wanted to bring you some clothes,” she grimaced. “I get not wanting to go back for your things.”
I glanced at Maisie, who was blissfully unaware of our conversation.
