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“Not me, Daddy. Maggie is never sassy. She’s a sweet girl. A little misunderstood at times. But very quiet and obedient.”
“Who is this Maggie, and when do we get to meet her?” Ian asked with fake-surprise.
“Daddy!” She dropped her lip out.
“Uh-uh. You know what that will get you,” Jameson said, lifting her out of Ian’s lap and putting her on his hip.
“Yes, Papa. I know.” She put her lip away. “There’s just one thing first.”
“What’s that?” Jack asked.
“Can someone . . . um . . . I mean, I need to . . . I have this ache.”
“Oh, you need to come,” Jameson drawled. “Hmm. I don’t know. What do you think? Jack? Ian?”
“I have a hankering for dessert before I eat cake,” Jack said with a wink.
“Please, Papa,” she begged.
“Very well. But I hope you learned your lesson before about being kinder to yourself,” Jameson said sternly.
“I did. Really.”
Ten minutes later,she was glad Jameson was carrying her as they entered the kitchen because Jack was very talented with his tongue. Jack walked in behind them, a big smile on his glistening lips.
Yikes.
“Ooh, I got another package today,” Jack said.
She eyed him nervously. Jack enjoyed shopping for her a lot. He disappeared into the storage room as Jameson sat her on a stool.
Ian placed an apron over her, then quickly put her hair back into a braid. He was getting really good at doing her hair.
Then Jack carried out a . . . a . . .
“Is that a highchair?” She studied the wooden chair. It had a black padded seat and black straps attached to it.
“Yep and it’s got a removable tray.” Jack set it up at the island and then picked her up, putting her in it. “Now, to put the straps on. Safety first!”
“Really, Daddy?” she said dryly.
“Really.” He strapped her in. “And now you can’t move. So Daddy Grumps doesn’t have to worry about you touching the stove. Or anything else in the kitchen that you shouldn’t be.”
“My name is not Daddy Grumps,” Ian grumbled.
Jack winked at her. “It so is.”
She giggled as Ian sighed. Jameson looked a bit lost as Ian and Jack started pulling out ingredients.
“Papa, you want to help me?” she asked.
“I think I’ll just watch you all,” Jameson said.
“Nuh-uh, Papa. We all have to help or we can’t eat the cake. Unless you want to wash up?”
“I’ll help you, Shortcake.”
Ian handed them ingredients he measured out first and she poured them into a bowl. Ian was whisking up the butter and sugar while Jack . . . well, she wasn’t sure what Jack was doing. But things flying everywhere.
