Page 9 of Kansas Keeper
Feeling extraneous, I offer to start a fire in the fireplace. The temperature outside is technically too warm for a fire, but I don’t want any of us to catch a chill.
Both females nod enthusiastically at the suggestion, so I set about my ‘man duties’ to keep from getting too sappy over watching the two of them bond with each other.
The fire crackles to life, so Mara helps a tightly swaddled Embry scoot in front of it.
I return to the linen closet to get Mara a towel, since hers is soaked from helping dry off Embry.
When I return, they are both settled on the large, colorful wool rug Sandra purchased when we visited an Amish community a few years ago.
Embry is snuggled on Mara’s lap enjoying the heat from the fireplace. The cozy scene is almost breathtaking in its simplicity and sweetness. I stop in my tracks to take it in.
Each moment we spend with Mara is going to make it that much harder if this custody battle turns ugly.
Swallowing that fear down, I wrap the dry towel I just retrieved around Mara’s shoulders and say, “How about some hot cocoa?”
Both girls quickly agree to that idea, so I head to the kitchen to make myself useful.
As I’m finishing the preparations, Embry yells from her cushy spot, on Mara’s lap, “Extra marshmallows, please,
“Oh, me too, please,” Mara agrees.
“Way ahead of you,” I answer as I carefully carry their steaming mugs to the living room.
Both of them giggle when they see the heaping pile of marshmallows in each mug as I set them on the fireplace ledge.
After I retrieve my own mug and sit on the floor beside them, Embry announces that her hands are snuggled in, so she wants me to be her official blower and drink lifter.
Since the child has me wrapped around her pinkie finger, I set my drink down, pick hers up, blow on it to cool it down, then carefully tip it to her lips for a sip.
“Perfect,” she says, sweetly as I set her mug down.
When I move to retrieve my own mug, Embry says, “No, Daddy, it’s Mara’s turn for the princess treatment.”
Mara starts to object, “No, I can––”
But Embry says, “You are busy holding me. Daddy doesn’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” I answer, unable to deny the little girl anything, especially when she bats her long lashes at me.
Mara turns her head to the side for her mug, so the hot liquid won’t get on Embry in case of a spill. After I help the woman take a sip, she gives me a sexy grin and says, “A lady could get used to this.”
I stay frozen in place, staring at her. Warmth rushes into my gut and lower for the first time since Sandra was here.
Not sensing the significant tension in the air, Embry says, “Yes, Daddy is the best prin-thess helper in the world.”
Mara chuckles at that, obviously finding my daughter’s occasional, slight lisp to be as adorable as I do. It only emerges sometimes. I find myself missing it when she pronounces words crisply and correctly because it means my little girl is growing up.
When Embry’s wide-eyed gaze travels between us, Mara quickly recovers from her chuckling and says, “Yes, I would definitely hire him if I was a real princess.”
This makes Embry giggle before she says, “You’re too old to be a real princess. You would be the queen, silly.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” Mara agrees.
“Don’t be pissa-dointed ’cause being a queen is almost as good as being a princess,” Embry tells her in a serious tone.
Mara and I share an amused look over the little girl’s adorable mispronunciation of the big word. Neither of us have the heart to correct her right now.
We finish our hot chocolates in companionable silence, staring at the fire as I alternate lifting the mugs to each of our mouths for a sip.
