Page 15 of Zale's Little Girl
“Do you have a soft drink? A cola?”
“Sorry. I don’t drink those. Too many chemicals. Let me get you a glass of milk,” Zale said. He adjusted the temperature under the boiling pot so it wouldn’t run over before grabbing the milk from the refrigerator.
Grabbing two glasses, he poured two tall glasses of the creamy white liquid. He set one in front of Pippa and saw her wrinkle her nose. “Not a milk fan?”
“I haven’t had a glass of milk since I was in school, and they made you take a carton at lunch.”
“Those things were always impossible to open. They were also crazy difficult to keep cold and tasted like cardboard. Try this. If you don’t like it, I have a secret weapon.”
“You’re going to hold me at gunpoint until I drink my milk?” she teased.
“Not that kind of secret weapon,” he said with a laugh before triggering the icemaker on the fridge and dispensing a couple of ice cubes into his hand. He slid those into her glass.
“Ice? Really? That’s going to make the difference?”
“It does for me,” he told her honestly.
Zale watched her take a drink and freeze. When she looked back up at him in shock, he knew she liked it better. He added, “See. Secret weapon. Let me get the pasta in. Everything else is ready.”
“You went to so much work.”
“Not at all. I need to eat, too. I usually cook a big pot of something and munch on it for a few days. What are your favorite foods?”
“I’m easy. I like about everything. Vegetables aren’t my favorite,” she confessed.
“I’ll see if I can change your mind about that, too. Any allergies?”
“Only to fall leaves back home. Who knows if anything around here will affect me?”
Easy conversation filled the time as the noodles cooked. When he pulled the large pot off the stove, Pippa jumped to her feet.
“Let me help,” she requested.
“Sit back down, little girl. This is too hot. I don’t want you to get burnt.”
Nodding quickly, she slid back onto the chair pulled up to the island.
“I feel funny just sitting here while you work,” she said.
“Little girls don’t make dinner. I appreciate your company. And it’s always so much more fun cooking for two instead of for one.”
Zale dished up spaghetti and sauce for them both. Looking up to ask her how many meatballs she could eat, he found her staring at him. “Is everything okay, Pippa?”
“I think I’ll have bruises all over my arms. I keep pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.”
“Why, sweetheart?” Zale set the tongs down and moved around the island to her side. Pippa was adorable, with her braided hair and big green eyes. He stroked a hand down her shoulder and arm as he waited for her to answer.
“I survived the worst nightmare of my life, and you appeared. You’re absolutely everything on my list of dreams, Daddy. Hell, I didn’t know daddies even existed until today.”
“Language, little girl,” he warned.
“Like that!” She waved her other arm around. “Who would correct me for using a bad word?” Pippa moved to pinch herself again, and he wrapped his hand around hers to prevent it.
“We’re going to deal with what happened to you—make sure he pays and alert the authorities to search for other victims. Then, we’re going to make sure you’re okay here,” he tapped her forehead before touching a finger to her T-shirt, slightly off-center of her chest, “and here.”
“What’s next after that?” she demanded.
“I’m going to keep you close and do my damnedest to convince you I’m your daddy and you’re my little girl because I plan to keep you.”
