Page 64 of Single Dad Dilemma
“Maggie, honey, they’re beautiful.” Her grandma clapped her hands together, taking in the finished product with awe.
“And they’reyellow,” Maggie said, smiling so huge that I felt it like a punch to my chest.
“Why do you think we started with these?” I asked.
She exhaled, swiping her hand over her forehead, leaving behind a streak of lemon glaze. “I should eat the first one, right?”
Barrett’s dad, a tall, wiry guy with thinning salt-and-pepper hair, strolled into the kitchen with Bryce tagging right behind. “Cookies ready? I haven’t had one yet today.”
Robin rolled her eyes at her husband. “You had three OREOs with your breakfast.”
That stopped him short. “Well, those don’t count.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because my granddaughter didn’t bake those.” He winked at Maggie.
Bryce elbowed in by the island, eyes wide as he surveyed the two dozen cookies in front of us. “You made those?”
“All by myself,” she proclaimed. Then she gave me a bashful look. “Well, sort of.”
“Claim it,” I told her. “I just supervised, but you did all the important steps by yourself.”
Her brother leaned in to inspect the cookies. “What’s that yellow crap on the top?”
She scoffed. “It’s lemon zest, Bryce.”
He wasn’t impressed. “They look like worms.”
“Fine, then you don’t have to eat any.” She looked up at me. “And you’ve really never taught anyone to bake before?” Maggie asked.
“Nope.” I ruffled her hair. “You’re my first student, and I’m afraid you’ve spoiled me. I won’t be able to teach any others.”
Robin watched us with a small smile hovering on her lips. “Thankfully you’ve got time to teach a little more, I hear.”
“She leaves in February,” Maggie stated, her smile dropping at the edges. “We better make a few more cookie dates before then.”
Someone had shoved a wad of sandpaper down my throat, and I could not make that sucker budge, even with a hard swallow. “We will,” I said, voice slightly strangled.
Robin was watching me carefully. That woman was just a little too perceptive, if you asked me.
Maggie picked up the first cookie, studying it intently. She pulled her bottom lip in with her teeth and then shoved the cookie at me. “You have it.”
She reminded me so much of her father heaving that damn shovel toward me that I almost lost my breath. The jerky movements and lack of eye contact was ... adorable. On both of them, really, which was just a little obnoxious for a man his size to do anything that was adorable. I found it much more palatable coming from his daughter.
“Big honor,” Robin said, winking subtly at me.
Was I blushing? God, how embarrassing. It was a cookie. But it was, like, symbolic or something. Because it wasn’t just a cookie.
In ten years of moving around, I’d never experienced anything like this. Hadn’t let it happen. More than once now, I’d spent time in this kitchen with her, and that made it a pattern. Patterns, no matter what they were, were hard to break. Good ones, bad ones—it didn’t really matter.
The only pattern I’d ever managed to form was never letting myself look back.
But with my heart in my throat, I accepted the cookie from Maggie and took a small bite. The bright burst of lemon had me humming, and the cookie melted on my tongue. I closed my eyes and finished chewing. When I opened them, everyone was watching me.
And yet again, Barrett had entered the room without making a single fucking sound.
After licking the crumbs off my lips, I looked down at Maggie and nodded slowly. “Perfect,” I told her.
