Page 5 of Nolan

Nolan stares at the pastries, then at me, his expression unreadable. For a horrifying moment, I think I've made a terrible mistake, crossed a line I shouldn't have. But then his face softens, and something that looks almost like vulnerability flashes in his eyes.

"You got these for me?" His voice is quiet, almost wondering.

I nod, my throat suddenly tight. "I thought... well, everyone deserves a treat sometimes, right? Even busy dads. Especially busy dads."

He reaches for one of the rolls, our fingers brushing slightly in the process. The contact sends electricity shooting up my arm, and I quickly pull back.

"I can't remember the last time someone brought me something just because," he says, breaking off a piece of the roll. "Everything is always for Ashlynn, which is how it should be, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't change that for the world. But this..." He trails off, looking at me with an intensity that makes my heart race.

"It's just a cinnamon roll," I say softly, though we both know it's more.

"Thank you, Belle." The way he says my name, in that scratchy, masculine voice of his, makes my knees weak.

A sound breaks the moment, and we both turn to see Ashlynn at the kitchen entrance. She's holding onto the doorframe, her legs supporting her as she takes steps forward. Her dark curls, so much like her father's, bounce with each determined movement, her unicorn pajamas slightly too big on her tiny frame.

"Belle, Belle." she babbles excitedly when she sees me, letting go of the doorframe to reach for me. Because it's just she and I, we've been working a lot on her talking. She's much further along than most other three-almost four-year-olds her age.

I quickly move to scoop her up before she topples over. "Good morning, sunshine. Look at you getting yourself out of bed." We both know that Nolan got her out of bed, and then let her decide when she wanted to come into the kitchen. Independence is important to him.

As I hold Ashlynn, Nolan catches my eye over her head. His gaze is warm, appreciative, and something else I can't quite name, something that makes my pulse quicken.

Ashlynn points at the cinnamon rolls, making an inquisitive "Ohhh?" sound while looking between her father and the pastries.

"Belle brought us a special breakfast," Nolan explains softly, his eyes not leaving mine.

Ashlynn reaches out with curious fingers, and Nolan breaks off a tiny, soft piece for her. I can't recall us ever trying this with her.

I settle her in her chair, where she happily eats the tiny piece of pastry, making delighted noises. Nolan and I stand on opposite sides of the counter, watching her, stealing glances at each other when we think the other isn't looking.

"I was thinking of taking her to the park today," I say, reaching for a napkin to wipe the sticky icing from her fingers. "The weather's supposed to be perfect."

"She'd love that," Nolan adds, finishing his cinnamon roll. He licks a spot of icing from his thumb, and I force myself to look away, my cheeks burning. Because I'm totally wondering what it would be like for him to lick me like that.

"What about you?" I ask, busying myself with cleaning up Ashlynn's mess. "Lot's going on at work today?"

"Just one bid at eleven, and checking on a job site. Should be done by lunch." He pauses, then adds, "Maybe I could join you both at the park afterward?"

"We'd love that," I say, my voice soft, hopefully I'm not telling him just how much I would love it. If I put myself out there too much, I run the risk of pushing him away.

His smile is worth every moment of overthinking this morning, worth every second of the past two weeks of uncertainty. I don't know what this thing between us is or where it's going, but standing here in his kitchen, watching him with his daughter, I know I want to find out.

"Come on, sweetie," I tell Ashlynn, helping her down from the stool. "Let's get you dressed for the day."

As we leave the kitchen, I glance back over my shoulder. Nolan is still watching me, the second cinnamon roll untouched in the box. He's saving it, I realize. Saving it for later, like he's savoring this moment, savoring whatever is beginning between us.

And despite all my overthinking and uncertainty, I can't help but smile.

CHAPTER THREE

Nolan

The smell of fresh concrete fills my lungs as I pace the perimeter of today's job, checking the edges for any imperfections. The sun beats down on my neck, and I can feel sweat trickling down my back beneath my T-shirt. It's barely ten in the morning, but the temperature's already climbing into the eighties.

"Looking good, boss," Marco calls from where he's smoothing out the last corner. "We'll be ready to stamp in about twenty."

I nod, squinting against the harsh sunlight to examine his work. Marco's been with me for three years now, and I trust his judgment, but I still check everything twice. That's how I built my reputation, being meticulous when other guys cut corners.

"Let's make sure those expansion joints are perfect," I say, kneeling down to get a closer look at the lines we scored into the wet concrete. "Mrs. Kingsley specifically requested a clean geometric pattern. You know how these lake house owners are about their aesthetics."

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