Page 57 of Best Laid Plans

“You gonna come help me?”

“Yes, chef.” I give him a salute and come around to the other side of the island. I try not to get distracted by all of the smooth skin he has on display, especially since he seems so in the zone.

Alden has me start the risotto while he heats grapeseed oil in a non-stick pan and pats the scallops dry. I’m in the process of adding the arborio rice to my shallots and garlic, and the smell alone is drool-worthy.

I let out a little moan at the scents filling the kitchen, and no lie, Alden growls. Goodbye, metaphorical panties, it was nice knowing ya!

After adding my white wine, I slowly add in broth. Simmer, stir, pour, over and over, until my rice is soft and creamy. “Small Fry, think you can start the spinach?”

“Yeah, I can do that!” I grab a pan from the ceiling-mounted rack that hangs over the island. I ignite the burner and oil the pan, letting it heat before adding some garlic. I alternate between the risotto and the spinach while Alden works on the scallops, brown butter, and Tatum’s chicken. We move around each other in the kitchen like it’s a dance we’ve been doing together our entire lives.

Our timing is so in sync, we reach simultaneously to shut off our burners, our hands brushing in the process. Little jolts of electricity race from where we touched, heading straight to my heart—and other places.

“Why don’t you go wake up sleeping beauty, and I’ll plate everything.”

I nibble my lower lip—God, he is so sexy. “Sounds good.” I turn and head for the stairs before I can do anything dumb. Like throw myself at him, and beg for him to finish what we started earlier.

In her room—gah, that sounds weird still—Tatum is still fast asleep. “Tater Tot, it’s time to get up.” I kiss her temple. When she doesn’t stir, I tickle her ribs and shake her lightly. “C’mon sleepyhead, your daddy made a yummy dinner!”

At the mention of food, her eyes pop open.

“Let’s get you out this swimsuit first, though. Be right back.” I run down the stairs, grab our bag, and dash back up. Once we’re both dressed, we head down, ready for dinner.

“Plates are on the table,” Alden says. Apparently, he found time to change too, as he’s now dressed in a pair of navy sweats—still no shirt, much to my delight.

They way Alden has plated our dinner is worthy of a Michelin-star restaurant. The seared, perfectly golden-brown scallops rest atop the risotto along with the spinach. It truly is picture perfect.

And holy shit, it tastes even better. Even Tatum agrees, happily devouring her risotto and chicken. “Dis good, Daddy.”

Every time I hear her call him that, my belly swoops low and my heart does a little dance in my chest. If it makes me that giddy, I can only imagine how he feels. Probably like the king of the world, if I had to guess.

After dinner, I clear our plates, rinsing and placing them in the dishwasher. I already know it’s going to be a struggle getting Tatum loaded up to head home. She loves spending time with her daddy and is not going to go quietly.

Stalling, I also scrub the pots and pans, as well as wipe down the counters. I guess I stalled too long though, because when I reenter the dining room, they aren’t there.

I follow the sounds of my girl’s high-pitched laughter, finding them in the family room. Alden is queuing up a movie—Boss Babyfrom the looks of it.

“We’s gonna watch a moobie!” Tatum informs me, patting the spot to the left of her on the oversized couch.

“Is that all right?” Alden asks, sounding unsure.

“Sure. But only if we have popcorn.”

“That I can handle. Have a seat.”

I drop down next to my girl, and she immediately leans into me while Alden goes to make us some popcorn.

He quickly returns, claiming the spot on the other side of Tatum. Like the little diva she is, she snags the popcorn bowl from him and kicks her feet up into his lap. And like the sucker he is, he sets to work massaging her little toes.

She sighs dramatically and tosses a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth before focusing her attention on the screen.

As much as I hate to admit it, the movie is cute—even if it is my one-millionth time seeing it. It would seem that Alden agrees, because Tatum has long since fallen asleep—again—yet here we are, still watching. And we keep watching all the way until the end credits.

“I guess we better get going,” I say, trying to maneuver out from under my snoring toddler.

“Or, y’all could stay.” Alden’s eyes widen at his suggestion. “I mean, Tatum’s already out cold, and she has her room here, and I have a guest bedroom set up too. You don’t have to though. It’s just an idea.”

His nervous rambling is endearing. “No. That’s fine, we’ll stay.”

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