Page 29 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

Mira giggled. “Silly Daddy!”

As Remy took the towel, he placed his hands over his heart, feigning hurt. “You wound me, my little one. I always respect a lady.”

He held the chair for her.

Gallant.When he placed a heaping plate of spaghetti in front of her, her stomach rumbled. Each night for the past week, she’d enjoyed leftovers, so she was aware of his culinary prowess.

“Mira, would you like me to cut your spaghetti?”

“No, Daddy.”

“Calleigh, would you like me to cut your spaghetti?”

Following Mira’s lead, Calleigh shook her head.

“Remy, would you like me to cut your spaghetti?”

“Hmm…no?” She had no idea what was going to happen.

He tucked his tea towel under his chin, so she followed suit. Picking up his fork, he placed it in the spaghetti. “Follow my lead, if you please.”

Mira, Calleigh, and Remy all stuck their forks in the pasta.

“And now you twirl.” He twirled his fork in the spaghetti. The girls watched in rapt fascination as he turned the fork, gathering pasta. Once he had it spun, he popped it into his mouth.

“Yum.”

Mira giggled and twirled with glee. Calleigh glanced warily at her sister, seeking guidance.

In for a penny.She spun her spaghetti.

A half hour later, she understood why Rusty had required bibs.

Tomato sauce covered the girls, matching their grins.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard. Tonight, she wasn’t an orphan. Tonight she wasn’t an overwhelmed single parent. Tonight, she wasn’t alone.

With little effort, Rusty had pulled her away from her brooding. He’d shown her the lighter side of food, and she was eager for more.Thiswas why all the child-rearing books suggested family dinners were important.

Rusty washed their faces while Remy tackled their hands. He grinned. “Bath time.”

“I’ll do it.”How hard can it be?

“Deal. I’ll clean the kitchen.”

Somehow she felt she’d gotten the better end of the deal.

Chapter eleven

“Iloveyourpajamas.”She looked adorable.

“Lounging clothes.” She ran her hands down the pants. “I like to feel comfortable when I come home.” She wore an oversized sweatshirt with a mismatched pair of flannel pajama bottoms.

They swamped her slender frame, but the outfit was cute in its own way. And it looked much more comfortable than the blouse and jeans she’d changed into when she’d first come home.

“So why didn’t you change into them earlier?”

She cocked her head and frowned. “I guess I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.” She paused. “It’s probably just as well. Who knew bathing two toddlers could be such a wet experience?”

---