Page 31 of Zale's Little Girl
“Yes, please.” She jumped at the opportunity to help.
He checked on the grill and flipped everything while she set the plates and silverware on the table. When he returned, Zale announced, “Five minutes. Chocolate in your milk?”
“Just some iced tea for me.”
“No caffeine, kitten. Regular or chocolate milk?”
“Chocolate,” she chose with another loud sigh.
He made a mental note to himself. So far, he’d earned one eye roll and two sighs. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a pad of paper. They’d work on rules after dinner.
CHAPTER 11
Soon, everything was on the table. He was happy to see she eagerly helped herself to the chicken and potatoes. Zale placed a few pieces of squash and peppers on her plate.
Pippa chattered happily and asked a million questions about his job. Some he could answer and others, not. He noticed she steadfastly ignored the small pile of grilled vegetables. When she reached for more potatoes, he wrapped his hand around hers on the serving fork.
“Eat a few bites of your vegetables first.”
“But I don’t want those tonight.”
“No more potatoes until you try a couple pieces,” he told her firmly.
Pippa stared at him with an open mouth. “I thought you were kidding. I don’t have to eat what you tell me to.”
“Who’s in charge, little girl, in all those books that you’ve read?”
“The daddy, but those are fiction. This is real life.”
“Daddy is still in charge in real life, Pippa. You like Daddy’s chicken. You’ll never know if you like the vegetables if you don’t try them.”
Her expressions revealed the battle happening inside her. She wanted to please him, but didn’t want to taste the small pile on her plate. Moving ever so slowly, she stabbed the smallest squash piece and lifted it to her wrinkled nose. “It doesn’t smell good.”
“Try it,” he suggested, keeping his tone light.
Her mouth opened by millimeters as if she hoped he’d tell her she didn’t have to eat it. When he didn’t stop her, she placed it on the tip of her tongue. Zale helped himself to a bite as well and chewed, enjoying its freshness.
He watched Pippa’s expression from the corner of his eye as she closed her mouth and chewed. Interest flittered across her features. She helped herself to another bite and then tried a red pepper.
Zale didn’t say anything. He ate another chicken wing and wiped his fingers on his napkin.
“Okay. They’re not awful,” she announced.
He knew that was a ringing endorsement. “You may have more potatoes now if you’d like. Thank you for giving Daddy’s cooking a chance.”
“You’re pretty good at grilling,” she admitted, stabbing her fork into a pepper and a squash stacked combination. “Mmm.”
“Thank you, kitten.”
“What would have happened if I hadn’t tried them?” she asked a few minutes later when her plate was empty.
“I would have spanked your bottom.” Zale controlled the smile that threatened to spread over his face when she gasped theatrically.
“You can’t spank me.”
“Is there something traumatic I need to know about in your past with being spanked?” he checked.
“No,” she answered, as if completely taken off guard by his question.
