Page 71 of Summer with the Single Dad

No, that wasn’t right. She said she went to freeze her eggs in med school.

He was lost deep in thought trying to untangle the mesmerizing web that was Justine when the oven beeped to indicate it was preheated and ready.

“So what flavors have you decided?” she asked, switching off the mixer so it no longer competed with the Foo Fighters song on the stereo.

“For the cupcakes, we’ll do lemon, Funfetti, chocolate raspberry; and the gluten-free option will be vanilla with blackberry jam in the middle.”

She nodded.

“And we’ll do a lemon cake, Funfetti with a sprinkle center, and a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. Then, after we wash all the dishes, counters and appliances, we can do a gluten-free chocolate fudge cake.”

“Right! Can’t risk cross-contamination.”

“Exactly. Same goes for the dairy-free recipes.”

“Sounds like a plan.” This time, a real smile tipped up one corner of her full lips. “So, no red velvet?”

He scrunched his nose. “It’s just chocolate cake with an obscene amount of food coloring. No. If Clint wants a red velvet cake, he can make it himself.”

She snickered. “Fair enough.”

That bit of friendly banter seemed to be exactly what they needed though, and the tension that had strung tighter than an archer’s bow a moment ago was gone. He reached out and rubbed the man’s nipple on her apron, which he knew was lower than her nipple. “You like that?”

She shook her head and her chin dipped, something equal parts amused and almost embarrassed circling there.

His stomach executed an unnatural squeeze, and he stepped forward, lifting her chin with his knuckle. “You okay?”

She heaved a sigh and her shoulders relaxed. “Yeah. I was just worried that …” She shook herself and smiled. “It’s nothing.”

“Worried about what?”

“That you were having second thoughts about us after you saw me with your wife’s apron?” She shook her head again. “I’m just … it’s the guilt monster. No matter how loud you crank the music or how many orgasms I have, the monster is there. Taunting me. It’s either guilt about my patient, or now it’s guilt about your wife.”

He understood exactly what she meant, and he’d be lying if he said his guilt monster wasn’t trying to make him feel like crap too. “They’re not here right now. Your patient and my wife are not here. We wish they were. But they’re not. But we are, and we need to honor their lives by not wallowing in guilt. By enjoying things. Like cake.” He waggled his brows. “And sex.”

Her cheeks pinked up, and she tipped her gaze down, her lashes fanning across her freckled cheeks. Now that he thought about it, and took in the freckles and shape of her face, maybe Clint wasn’t entirely off his rocker. She did have a Lucy Liu look about her. And Lucy Liu was hot as fuck.

“We’ve got the house to ourselves for the day. We have a lot of baking to get done. But let’s not invite anybody into our private little bakery, okay? Not your patient, not my late wife, and definitely not our guilt monsters. Because I’ve got one too, and it’s doing its damnedest to make me feel bad about this morning. It’s just us.”

Pulling in a deep breath through her nose that caused her breasts to expand and draw his eyes, she exhaled slow and steady. “Eyes up here.”

He met her twinkling gaze, the brown of her irises seeming lighter than normal and showing off pretty flecks of copper that sparkled under the warm kitchen lighting.

He kissed her. Slow and sweet, but with promise.

“All right, let’s get to work.”

“Yes, chef.”

His dick twitched against his shorts. “Careful or I’ll have you bent over this countertop before you can say “chocolate ganache.”

Friday at school for the kids was a bit of a wash. It was nothing but outside activities and setting up for the funfair later that evening.

But all six kids were excited to get out the door in the morning. And thankfully, Thursday’s rain was a one-off and the sky was blue. The sun was out once again.

Justine opted not to walk the kids to the bus stop that morning. Brooke invited her to attend yoga with her. So even though she and Bennett ran earlier that morning, by eight fifteen she was hopping in Brooke’s SUV and the two were making their way past the dads and kids walking to the bus stop.

“Your trailer arrives later today, huh?” Brooke asked as she waved to Talia and the other children, before taking a left on the main road.

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