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Tripp saw a little too much smoke coming from Charlotte’s skillet, and when she flipped the pancake, it was closer to charcoal than butter brown. Gracie blew at the smoke and Charlotte waved her hand over the skillet. It looked like a train wreck, but Gracie started cracking up and nudging Charlotte. Like she just wanted to be near her.
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, or how that vision was making his heart thunder in his chest. Even now, they looked like they belonged together. All of his worries seemed minuscule in that moment, watching his daughter laugh and smile. Charlotte couldn’t make pancakes to save her life, but she was there, trying. She showed up. Which was more than Gracie’s real mother had ever done.
Tripp looked at the sea of troop moms, but only one woman held his attention. He may have thought she was the exact wrong one, but she didn’t seem so wrong any more.
…
“Oh God…oh come on…” Charlotte cringed, trying not to curse as yet another pancake burned. At least no one was really standing in her line anymore. She looked down at Gracie. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this.”
“My daddy says trying is all that matters,” Gracie said.
Charlotte smiled. There was so much love and kindness in the little girl. Tripp was an amazing father. “Well, hopefully your dad will still feel that way when he gets here.”
“There’s Daddy,” Gracie said, pointing a few yards out in front of the table where Tripp stood, watching them. He’d clearly come straight from the ranch, and Charlotte found herself biting her lower lip, looking extra long at the way his T-shirt clung to his muscles.
They were out of earshot, but Charlotte saw the woman approach him with her daughter, about the same age as Gracie, in tow. It was one of the women from the nut fry. She had on khakis and looked the type to carry sunscreen and dried organic banana chips in her purse. In short, she looked like a mom. A real mom.
“Amber! Over here!” Gracie called. The other little girl dashed over. While the two talked animatedly, Charlotte tried to focus on flipping burned pancakes, but she kept glancing up at Tripp and Amber’s mom.
When the woman took a step closer, leaning in when she spoke to Tripp and slowly rubbing his biceps, Charlotte accepted what she’d known from the moment she met him. Tripp was a catch. And women like Amber’s mom? They looked right with Tripp. She was from the same town, had the same values, and probably liked the same things as Tripp. Charlotte was from the city, had no desire for family or clue how to be a part of one.
Charlotte looked at her fifteenth attempt at a pancake—still burned. Which was telling of this whole situation. She would never be the “Amber’s mom” type who cooked and cleaned and took care of the house while her husband worked. She could play with Gracie, sure, and keep Tripp’s bed warm at night, but was that enough? No.
They deserved better.
She shook her head and tried to refocus. Stifling a curse, she scraped the latest batch of burned pancakes off the skillet.
A hand slid along her ass. Tripp kissed her cheek and whispered, “Thank you,” in her ear.
“Daddy, we made pancakes,” Gracie informed him.
“I can see that,” Tripp said, discreetly removing his hand from where it seemed more than happy to linger. “You want me to take over?”
“For the love of God, yes,” Charlotte said, handing him the spatula. She took off the apron and tried to move away, but he wasn’t having any of it.
Tripp wrapped an arm around her waist. “You’re not leaving yet, are you?”
“I have to go check on my grandma,” she said. Lie. Grammy was fine. She’d left her and Princess Peanut Butter at the bunco club table, where a cheerful conversation about who’d cheated in their last game had started up immediately.
Not that she’d tell Tripp that. She needed space from her thoughts. Thoughts that got foggy whenever he was around.
“Okay, well, how about dinner tomorrow?”
“Um, I have some errands to run in town,” she said, not sure if she could bear getting even more caught up in the Montgomerys. It’d just rip her heart out that much harder when she left. If nothing else, the “Amber’s mom” incident solidified that, yes, she would be going home.
“That’s okay. Gracie has her troop meeting in town, so maybe after? Say five?”
“Charlotte can pick me up,” Gracie added.
“Only if it’s okay with Charlotte?” Tripp said.
She blinked at him. Wait. He was going to let her pick up Gracie and bring her home? He trusted her?
She met Tripp’s eyes, and his smile was her undoing. “Okay.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
With that, he gave her a wink. As all the women flocked to his line, she turned and walked away.
