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“Unc Co.” He points at his cheek. “Football.”
“Yes, buddy. That’s a fabulous football that Harbor has drawn for you.”
“I want a flower.” The girl wiggles against him until he drops her to her feet. “A pink one.”
“Sure thing, Princess.” Cole beams at her as my heart thunders in my chest.
“Unc Co?” I arch my eyebrows as hope that I shouldn’t possess flares back to life.
“Uncle Cole, at your service.” His eyes dance as he shifts the little boy on his hip. “These are Emilia’s kids. And this little guy is an escape artist. When I was talking to your mom, he jetted off to check out the pretty girl decorating faces. Not that I blame him.” He winks. “He has good taste.”
“Thanks.” The tips of my ears flame. Is he flirting with me? I lick my lips and brush the first stroke of pink on the little girl’s face. “So, what are their names so I can call them something besides little girl and little boy?” I glance at him under my lashes.
“Sofia and Thatcher.” He pulls up a chair and sits across from me as Thatcher lays his head on Cole’s broad chest and relaxes against him. “Thatcher has unlimited energy, but he’s been up since 6 a.m.”
“He’s adorable.” I tilt my head. The shape of his cheekbones is like Cole’s. Only pudgy. “He looks like you.”
“You think I’m adorable?”
The air around us zips with energy. Do I think he’s adorable? No. I shake my head. “No, I don’t think you’re adorable.”
“Oh…” Something akin to disappointment floods his face and his eyelids lower as if he’s hiding his response to my comment.
“I think you’re the best-looking guy I’ve ever met.” Oh, my God. I didn’t just say that. My hand shakes as I dab into the green paint for the stem. I’ve lost my mind with everyone pushing me to tell him how I feel or else I wouldn’t have said those words.
“I’ve wanted to hear you admit that for years.” His eyes never leave mine, making my stomach flip. He’s never looked at me like this before. Hell, no one has ever looked at me like this before. It’s like he’s drinking me in and can’t get enough.
It’s fucking hot out here.
“And you know it. Otherwise, Layla wouldn’t keep asking you to model for her.”
“Will you do the photo shoot with me?”
“Fine. I’ll do it.” I clear my throat. “For Layla,”
He inhales, rocking back into his seat. “For Layla.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was disappointed.
Chapter Ten
Cole
Chase kids around the homecoming festival, they said. It’ll be easy, they said. Seriously? They were wrong. Sofia climbs over the wooden fence to the goat enclosure for the fourth time and tries her hardest to ride the black, white, and brown milk goat. The animal makes a bleating sound, lowers its front haunches, and shifts to the right, causing Sofia to plop down in the pen–again.
Not to be deterred, she laughs hysterically and clambers to her feet. “Again.”
The kid knows nothing about the concept of defeat.
“Sweet Pea, I think it’s time to give it up.” I shake my head and glance at my watch. How long does an interview take? Not this long. It was supposed to be four hours, and we’re inching closer to six. The only answer is that Emilia has gone to bed and taken a nap.
“Come on, Sofia.” I shift Thatcher on my hip, causing him to stir in my arms. “It’s time to go.”
“No.” Sofia stamps her foot as she smacks her hands on her hips. “I stay and play.”
“It’s time to go.” My jaw tights as the sun beats down on me. What does it say about me that I’m a 6’3” fireman who luges around a 100-pound hose on a frequent basis and can bench press 275 pounds, and I can’t get a four-year-old little girl to do what I tell her to do?
Four-year-old little girls do what they want. That’s what it says.
