Page 31 of The Baby-whisperer and the Brute
“I mean goosebumps,” she clarified. “Sometimes I have ideas, but I can’t find my ideas.”
“Oh. Right.” He chuckled again.
Familiar now with where everything was, I grabbed a plate from an upper cabinet and slid an enormous six-egg omelet onto it from the skillet then carried it to the table.
The girls were eating “fruity-nutty” oatmeal as they’d named their favorite new breakfast concoction. Sullivan had already finished his second bowl of the stuff.
He smiled in anticipation as I set the heaping plate of protein in front of him so his daily monster breakfast could continue.
The man ate more than I would have thought humanly possible—and he never gained a pound, unless perhaps it was all converted to muscle.
“You don’t have to cook for me, you know,” he said, digging into the food. “But I can’t lie—I’m glad you do.”
“I’ve told you… it’s no trouble. I’m already making an egg for myself every morning.”
“One egg.” He chuckled. “I don’t know how you manage to stay alive on so little food.”
“I don’t know howyourcholesterol isn’t through the roof.”
“My doctor says I’m as healthy as a horse.” Then to amuse his girls, he made a comical neighing sound.
They laughed, of course.
“Daddy… you sound like a donkey,” Skyla said.
“Yes, asillydonkey,” Claire added with a giggle. Sullivan reached over and tweaked her nose, pretending to remove it and showing her the tip of his thumb poking through the fingers of his fist.
She swiped at it, pretending to take her nose back and put it on again.
“Seriously, though…” Sullivan’s tone changed, becoming more earnest as he returned his attention to me. “I’m not sure how we got so lucky.”
My cheeks grew warm. “It’s only eggs.”
Stepping back to the kitchen counter, I picked up my own plate and carried it to the table, busying myself with the salt and pepper shakers as I felt him staring at me.
No one had ever looked at me the way Sullivan Reece did. His gaze held appreciation, appraisal, and I could swear at times… interest. The guy and girl kind.
At least Ithoughtso. I couldn’t be sure—I had no experience in that area. But there was definitely… something. And it made me all kinds of nervous.
Risking a glance up at him, I experienced a little tingly shock when I found him still watching me. A brew of heat and delight bubbled up inside me, and I dropped my gaze back to my plate.
“Why do you wear the same three or four outfits all the time?” he asked.
“What?”
That was unexpected. I tried not to be insulted. There was no trace of meanness in his tone, just genuine curiosity.
“Are you afraid you’ll mess them up with, like the art projects and stuff—or cooking?”
“No.”
Sullivan held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I mean, no offense, you look great. It’s just, well, you said you were going shopping. The girls came home with bags of stuff they picked out. Are you saving your new clothes for a special occasion or something?”
Looking down at my outfit, I tried to come up with an answer that would satisfy him without embarrassing myself too deeply.
“I only bought a few things. I didn’t think it really mattered what I wore. I don’t need much anyway.”
The truth was, when we’d gone shopping, I hadn’t gotten my first paycheck yet. All I’d had to my name was a few hundred dollars I’d kept stashed in my room after cashing my final paycheck from the preschool.
