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What is the right idea?
She’s cooking the three of you dinner.
As a thank you. Nothing more.
So, instead of flowers, he’d grabbed a chocolate torte for dessert and some scented sunscreen. Was that weird?
He’d noticed yesterday that she was a bit sunburned, and she’d mentioned that she didn’t like putting it on because of the smell and feel.
But this stuff had been created especially for Littles. Not that he thought she was one. Well . . . she might be. He’d also seen her toy zebra that she was cuddling.
Her Little status was irrelevant. What was relevant was protecting her from sunburn.
None of it meant anything. Not really.
He was just concerned about her. As a physician.
That was all.
The door opened and his mouth dropped open. “Um. Good evening.”
Maggie pushed back strands of her dark hair that had come loose from her ponytail, which might explain the white streaks in her dark hair. Because her hands were covered in flour.
He wasn’t quite sure why she needed so much flour to make a sausage casserole and mashed potatoes.
“You know you don’t have to knock, right?” she said with a smile. “Come in!”
She waved her hand out, gesturing him inside. He looked down in shock, noticing floury footsteps on the tile floor.
Seriously. Did she jump in a vat of flour?
He ran his gaze over her. She was wearing another pair of dark yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt. Over her clothes she wore a bright pink apron. Which seemed at odds with her usual choice of clothing. She had her hair back in a messy ponytail and streaks of flour and other things were all over her apron, her hands, and her face.
He’d never seen someone so messy. Well, maybe a toddler.
That’s what she reminded him of as she smiled up at him. She looked so happy with herself that he found himself smiling back.
“You’re trouble, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
She winked at him. “But the best kind. Can I help take something?”
“I’ve got it. I brought some dessert.”
“Oh.” Her entire face fell.
He instantly felt the urge to do something. To take back the words that had upset her. What was it? What could he do to make her feel better?
“Maggie’s making dessert,” Ian boomed as he entered the foyer. “Battenberg cake.”
“With custard and cream.” She bounced up on her toes. “It’s going to be so good. Don’t worry, I’ve already got dinner started. I just put the cakes in, then I’ll let them cool down before I ice them.”
“Oh, then you can put this in the fridge for another day because that sounds delicious.”
Another big grin.
Holy heck.
His breath caught in his lungs for a moment. She was breathtaking.
