Page 107 of The Bluffing Game

“Only for princesses,” I say softly, and she offers me a wry smile.

A loud banging makes her jump, and I see fear cross her face until she realizes it’s just Toby throwing a toy to the ground. It makes my heart hurt to see her so nervous, and I’m furious with Brett and myself. I know better than to mention her nerves to her though.

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” I shake my head vehemently. “I can barely make a circular pancake, let alone a dragon, and I certainly can’t do bunny ears, but I would like to request a dog, baby.”

“Really, Dalton?” She smiles at me.

“If you’re making cool pancakes?”

“A dog though?”

“Daddy said he’s going to get me a dog,” Toby says. “Maybe you can come with us to the shelter.”

“That would be cool.”

He slips his hand into hers. “You can help me pick which dog I’m going to get. I think I want a big dog, but then maybe I want a small dog, and maybe I want a black one, but maybe I want a brown one or a white one or a green one.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a green dog,” Sage says.

“Can I ask you where the flour is, Dalton?” She looks at me and then around the large marble kitchen. “I have no idea where anything is.”

“Sure. I’ll grab it for you.” I walk over to the pantry and step inside. “What else do you need? I’ll grab it while I’m in here.”

“Milk and eggs and chocolate chips. Of course, the milk and eggs will be in the fridge.”

I look back at her. “Let me see if we’ve got some chocolate chips. I’m almost positive we do from the last time Toby made chocolate chip cookies.”

“I want chocolate chip cookies as well,” Toby screams. “Right now.”

“Not this morning, Toby.” Sage bursts out laughing.

“Okay, Sage.”

I’m happily surprised that he doesn’t throw a tantrum. I finally find the flour and a small bag of chocolate chips, bring them out, and place them on the countertop.

“I suppose you need a bowl and a frying pan.”

“All the good stuff, please,” Sage says, a wry smile on her face. “Do you guys cook breakfast a lot?”

“No,” Toby says softly. “Daddy will make me cereal, but not even the delicious cereal. He says I have to eat Cheerios, and I don’t like Cheerios. They don’t taste good. I like Frosted Flakes and Fruity Pebbles, and sometimes, Auntie Lucia lets me have them.” He places his hand over his mouth and giggles. “Oops, she told me not to say that.”

“You see what I’m dealing with here, Sage? A sister who doesn’t listen to me.”

“Well, I have a feeling she probably learned from you, Dalton.”

“What are you trying to say?” I tease her. “That I don’t listen?”

“I think we both know you don’t listen,” she says.

“Ooh, let me help.” Toby picks up the flour, and it goes flying everywhere—onto the floor, onto Sage, onto the countertop. “Wow,” Toby says, looking up nervously at Sage. “Oops.”

“It’s okay. Your daddy will clean it up for us.”

“Me?” I make a face.

Toby bursts out laughing. “Daddy has to clean up. Daddy has to clean up.”

“I guess I’ll get the vacuum cleaner later. Who knows how much mess you two will make?”