Page 52 of Broken Daddy

Genevieve

“I just think you should try some of Dad’s ice cream.”

Eva pouts. Sprinkles cover her mouth and she has buttercrunch melting on a shoe. Nathan and I stand side by side, stumped. Because the only way to get her out of this little tantrum is to give in.

“Just do it,” Nate mutters, holding his cone out toward me.

I scrunch my nose at the white and pink mountain of icy confection. Interesting fact about Nathan Sharpe—the man can’t resist a large cone, even if it is stacked three scoops high.

Giving the little girl a cutting glance, I lean in close and swipe my tongue across the ice cream. Trying not to look up and make eye contact with Nate. Trying to ignore the fact that I can smell him—wood, sweat, some kind of cologne that’s always lingering but I haven’t put a name to yet.

The shock of cold dims the desire gathering in my center.

What is this? I don’t remember learning in high school that pregnancy causes a high sex drive, but here I am, salivating over the man who helped create this little issue.

Not that I’d take it back.

It’s a strange thought, and I pull back, quickly thumbing a drip from the corner of my mouth.

“See?” Eva pipes up, elated she got her way. “It’s not bad, right?”

I shake my head, making a face. “I just don’t like white chocolate and strawberry, Eva. Sorry.”

She makes a sound of disbelief and stomps away toward the pile of boulders where other kids are climbing and playing made-up games.

It’s Saturday. Three days since I found out I was pregnant.

Three days sinceNathanfound out I was pregnant.

With his child.

After the initial shock wore off and he, rather quickly, agreed I should keep the baby, we set down the ground rule of not telling anyone.

I have two more months in his employment. I have a few more weeks to put together a menu for Saucer and try to snag a job as their executive chef.

Then, if everything works out, I’ll be raising a baby alone in Germany.

The thought makes the sunny afternoon seem gloomy. Locked away in my thoughts, I don’t realize Nate’s watching me until he asks, “It wasn’tthatbad, was it?”

I raise my brows and look down at the double chocolate sundae in my hand, cherry sliding to the side, down a mound of whipped cream.

“It’s really just not my thing. Nothing will ever compare to chocolate, Nate.”

He rolls his eyes and I grin at the resemblance between him and his daughter. It makes me wonder if the baby will have the same habit, will have the same green eyes and one-sided dimple. Blushing at the thought, I clear my throat and dig a spoon into the ice cream.

“Here. Try it.”

Astonishingly, Nathan is more adventurous than I am. He leans in and licks the scoop of chocolate, fudge, and whipped cream right off the spoon, pulling back and dragging his tongue across his upper lip. The move makes my heart stutter in my chest and there it is all over again—an embarrassingly high sex drive.

Ugh.

“So,” I choke out, turning to look back toward the skyline and the general direction of Nate’s company, “how’s work been? I…I saw the headlines last week. It sounds like you guys have a bit of a scandal going on?”

He scowls. Why the hell did I bring that up? Way to ruin the mood.

Not that there was one.

Eating sweet melting ice cream with the man who very recently had his way with me in a sweaty carpentry shop definitely doesnotcreate a mood.

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