Page 9 of The Single Father Upstairs

She stretched out her paws, making biscuits on my thigh. I took that as a yes.

5

STELLAN

“More flour, Dad.” Indigo was already reaching for the packet before I agreed.

“Most of it's on the counter.” And on me, the floor, and every surface in the kitchen.

“Okay, but the cookie mixture still needs more.”

We were making oatmeal ones with extra raisins. I’d watched my grandmother make this recipe a hundred times growing up. Indigo loved it too, and I’d never let on to anyone that I hated oatmeal cookies. That was my secret, and I wasn’t sharing it.

The cookies were for Rudy who lived alone on the first floor. He was an elderly wolf shifter who’d been in the building longer than anyone, including Jon. Indigo had adopted Rudy as an honorary grandfather without asking his permission.

“He said his grandkids live too far away to visit for his birthday.” My daughter was elbow-deep in flour. “That’s so sad. Why don’t they come and see him more often?”

Ouch!my bear said, echoing what I was thinking.

Yeah, why didn’t people’s loved ones care about them? In Rudy’s case, his relatives did call and text, unlike the bear shifter who’d carried and birthed Indigo.

“Not everyone has the money to fly across the country, and Rudy refuses to move closer to them.” He loved living in Moonridge Place.

Indigo tossed in the raisins and added another half cup. “Rudy is a raisin fiend, and he deserves plenty on his birthday.”

I imagined those tiny dried grapes getting stuck in the older man’s teeth, but as long as he enjoyed them and my daughter was happy, it didn’t matter.

Indigo scooped the dough onto the tray. The shapes were nothing like circles, but she was having fun. I loved cooking together, or her doing the work and me supervising. It was just the two of us, as it usually was, and we were working with our hands. We weren’t negotiating bedtime or puzzling over homework, and my bear liked it too.

There’s no trouble here, and it’s just us.

As the cookies baked, a cinnamon aroma wafted through the apartment, taking me back to my childhood. I was thankful Kipp hadn’t been into baking so I didn’t have to block out memories of him making cookies.

“I’m going to deliver them to Rudy myself,” my daughter announced as she put the cooled cookies into a tin. “Without you, Dad, because you’ve told me this building is safe and everyone’s a shifter.”

She was quoting my words back at me, and I didn’t object.

“I don’t want you hovering behind me looking weird.”

“I’m never weird.”

She gave me a withering look as she sailed out the door holding the tin. I did follow her to the stairwell which was a habit rather than me being worried about her safety. As well as the tenants being shifters, they’d all known her since she was in diapers, and it was only two floors down to Rudy’s. Nothing could happen to her between the third and first floor.

But as my daughter’s footsteps echoed down the stairwell, I caught a human scent. It was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Perhaps it was a delivery person who came here regularly.

No, it’s the one that was near the dumpsters, my bear reminded me.

Oh, you’re right.The one I’d wanted to chase after because it was tantalizing and intriguing. Today it was teasing me, and I half hoped I’d cross paths with the source of that scent.

But I had a mess in the kitchen to deal with and we had to do our weekly food shop later. I’d wiped down the surfaces and finished the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher, and Indigo still wasn’t back. She must have been chatting to Rudy, and I grabbed my phone to text him. My daughter would fume at me checking up on her, but that was what dads did.

“Dad.” Indigo barreled into the apartment with an empty tin that she dumped on the couch. “Guess what, guess what?”

“Ummm, you gave Rudy the cookies?”

She bobbed her head. “But there’s more.”

“He thanked you and took a bite of one?”