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“Not to interrupt,” Craig said, his salad chopping coming to a stop, “but I’m preparing dinner for the three of you.”
“You are?” Sydney asked.
She glanced at me as I said, “Did you think we’d eat without you?” I shook my head. “Not going to happen, not at my house.”
“I had a snack before I came. I’m—”
“Going to join us,” I said. “Please, Sydney. Eve and I both would like you to.”
She looked back at my daughter and said, “Well, I guess I’ll be having dinner with you and your dad, and then guess what we’re going to do.”
“What?” my baby asked.
“We’re going to bake some cookies and decorate them.”
Eve gasped. “We are? What kind? And do you have pink frosting? Because pink frosting is the best.”
A few hours after I had invited Sydney over, she’d sent another text, asking if she could make dessert with my daughter—a lesson on measurements would be their focus for the night. She wanted to know if I had rules about her eating sugar, whether I only allowed organic products in my house, if she had any allergies, or if I had concerns about Eve being near an oven—all questions I appreciated being asked.
Except now, I would have all these extra cookies at my house, and every time I reached for one, each bite would make me think of her.
I didn’t need the reminder.
Sydney was already far too deep into my head.
“I think we can whip up some pink frosting,” Sydney replied.
Eve bounced on top of the counter. “Can we have cookies for dessert?”
“Of course we can, and after we bake and eat, it’s going to be bath time and story time and bedtime. How does that sound?”
“Like the best night ever,” Everly sang.
“Perfect.” Sydney reached into her pocket and grabbed what looked to be an elastic, bunching Everly’s hair together on top of her head, tying it high. “But like all good chefs, we have to make sure our hair doesn’t get in the food.” She looked at Craig. “Chef Craig doesn’t have that problem.”
Eve giggled. “Chef Craig is bald, silly.”
Craig ran his hand over his shaved head. “Because the ladies love it like this,” he said quietly, so little Eve wouldn’t hear.
“Since it looks like Chef Craig is almost done with dinner,” Sydney said to Everly, “let’s go wash our hands and get ready to eat. Then, you can show me where everyone sits at the table. Sound good?”
“But I’m clean.” Everly held out her hands to show Sydney, a coy smile on her face. “See?”
“You know what? Mine are all dirty from driving over here,” Sydney said, “so, maybe you can show me where the bathroom is, and we can wash our hands together, just to make sure they’re extra clean.”
“Okay!” She stretched her arms out to Sydney. “Get me down.”
“Everly,” I said, “use your manners when you’re speaking to Sydney.”
“Please help me down,” Everly corrected.
Sydney lifted her off the counter and set her on the floor, and Everly instantly linked their fingers.
“Come on, Syd. I’m going to show you the bestest bathroom in the whole house, where there’s pink everything, even the soap.” She laughed again. “Even the seat on the potty. It’s so cute.”
“Let me guess. This bathroom is in … your room?”
“Yep!”
As the two of them disappeared upstairs, the break from looking at Sydney—even if it was short-lived—was appreciated.
I went to the fridge and grabbed a beer, twisting off the top as I said, “Things going well with you, Craig?”
He gave the pot a few more stirs and turned toward me. “All is good, my man. Looks like things are moving along nicely with you too. Getting a new nanny in your life?”
I nodded. “Hannah is tapping out. She’s got too much on her plate.”
Hannah had been such a staple around here, and the two of them knew each other well.
“This one seems to be great with Everly, and I’ve got to say, she’s pretty easy on the eyes.”
He’d noticed.
Fuck, it was impossible not to.
“I’m not going to deny that,” I admitted.
“She single?”
I guzzled the rest of my beer and walked back to the fridge to grab another. “Why? You interested?” I asked from over my shoulder.
“Hey, man”—he put his hands in the air—“it’s not a bad thing to know since there are two single men in this room.”
I shut the fridge door, tossed the metal top into the trash, and glanced toward the stairs. “I don’t know.”
But one thing I did know was that if Sydney went on a date with Craig, she wouldn’t be working for me anymore.
Fuck, I thought, shaking my head.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I couldn’t control who she dated, nor should I care who she went out with.
But for some reason, at this moment, I did.
“There’s a good chance she’ll be moving in here at some point soon,” I told him, leaning against the counter, “so you’ll be seeing a lot more of Sydney, giving you plenty of time to ask her.”
“Can’t say I hate the thought of her being around here more.” He sliced several roasted vegetables and tossed them into the pot. “There’s nothing hotter than feeding a woman as sexy as Sydney.”
And watching her eat.
Something I’d enjoyed immensely when I took her to dinner.
The way her lips surrounded the fork. How they parted over the rim of her wineglass. Her tongue licking the spoon when we shared dessert.
I needed her out of my head.
I needed to focus on something besides my future employee.
The girl whose pussy had fucking clutched me when she was coming.
I chugged several sips’ worth and said, “What are you making for dinner?” I tried to take a deep breath, but all I could smell was coconut even though she wasn’t in the room. “I know I approved the menu. I’m just drawing a blank.”
He moved back to the stove and grabbed a set of tongs from the drawer. “Eve asked for spaghetti, so I loaded the sauce with vegetables—she won’t even taste them—and I added in some ground turkey and sausage for you. I made a homemade bread that I’ll serve with truffle oil and a Caesar salad.”
