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“That makes sense. Spencer and Marley are lucky to have you for a dad.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
“How about if I show you how to make a really good butter garlic chicken? It’s usually a kid favorite when we make it here.”
“Sounds amazing.”
I gathered ingredients for the next dish, remembering what I’d said to Avon less than an hour ago.
No matter how attracted I was to Holt, he was still finding his footing as a single dad. I needed to keep my distance. If I stayed nothing more than a friend to him, Spencer and Marley, I’d never have to worry about things going south after a breakup.
So, as hard as it was, I kept the focus on cooking.
Mostly. I couldn’t help sneaking a few glances at his arm muscles in his T-shirt.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Holt
“Dad, can Shea show you how to make these?” Spencer asked through a mouthful of banana walnut pancakes.
“I’ll ask her.”
Both of my kids had devoured a stack of pancakes and several pieces of bacon, but since it was Summer Showdown day, I’d gone lighter with some toast and scrambled eggs. I was going to miss waking up and coming to the dining hall for breakfast here. Work on our house was coming along nicely, but I’d reserved our suite here for another month and I already knew we’d stay for every day of it, even if the house was ready for move-in sooner.
Melanie and Sylvia, two older guests at the inn, approached our table, both smiling at Marley.
“Okay, let’s see how Dad did today!” Melanie said.
They checked the back of her hair and both gave me a thumbs-up.
“I couldn’t have braided it better myself!” Sylvia said. “At least, back before I had arthritis. I couldn’t braid anything these days.”
Marley beamed at me. I’d decided to think of double Dutch braids like hockey. When I was younger, I drilled hockey essentials over and over until I got them. So I took the same approach—watching videos and practicing again and again. Marley played a handheld video game to make the time pass easier.
And now, here I was, a pretty damn good hair braider.
“You did good, Holt,” Melanie said, cupping my cheek in her soft hand.
“Thanks.”
“We heard you’ll be part of the big race today,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
Melanie’s husband, Ron, approached our table, putting his hands on Spencer’s shoulders.
“Did you save me any pancakes?” he asked.
Spencer smiled and shrugged. “They were really good.”
“That’s okay, son. You’re a growing boy.”
“And you’re turning out to be a handsome one,” Sylvia said.
