Page 48 of Wishing Hearts

“Really?” I say around a laugh. “You did rodeo?”

“Sure did,” he answers. “One of my foster carers worked the fairground. I picked it up quick. Was damn good at it, too.”

I hum a little, imagining Sam on horseback, roping a calf and then jumping down for the tie-off. He had to have been fast.

The thought makes my heart race.

“Your turn,” Sam says.

“Right. I, uh. I think I have a cowboy kink.”

Sam barks a laugh before immediately slapping a hand over his mouth. “Seriously?”

I nod, chuckling at Sam’s amused expression. “The first time I saw you with that belt buckle and the cowboy hat? Damn near popped a boner.”

“You’re kiddin’ me,” he says incredulously. “You sure didn’t let on. I had to work hard to get an invite back to your place.”

“I know,” I say with a huff. “I won’t make you work for it anymore, Sam.”

He rumbles a little. “I don’t mind, Harrison. You’re worth it.”

Shit.

I kiss Sam’s pec. “Tell me something else.”

He does, launching into a story about him and Carl rescuing a baby chick just earlier today, and as I listen to his voice resonate up through his chest, I wonder how long I can justify telling my daughter the two of us are just friends.

Chapter 14

Sammy

“You again?”

“Winnie,” Harrison reprimands lightly, jogging down the stairs. He gives me a swift grin that makes my stomach go all gooey before he squeezes his daughter’s shoulder. “Let the man in, please. He brought breakfast.”

Winnie’s eyes dart down to the bags in my hands, calculating. “Cake?” she asks.

“Close,” I admit, toeing off my boots. “Waffles.”

The little girl perks up immediately, spinning and skipping off toward the kitchen. Tigger stops to give me an enthusiastic hello before chasing after her.

“Morning,” Harrison says, stepping in close. Much to my surprise, he gives me a quick kiss.

“Mornin’,” I respond cheerfully, happy to see the man again so soon after our date a few days ago. And really damn happy Harrison suggested breakfast with his daughter. It feels like he’s letting me in.

When Harrison steps back, his gaze drops to my bags, much as his daughter’s did. His lips quirk a little to one side. “Did you really bring stuff for waffles? I don’t have a waffle-maker.”

“Brought mine,” I say, holding up the bag in my left hand.

“’Course you did,” Harrison replies lightly, shaking his head. “In that case, feed us, Sammy. My daughter has been complaining for a solid ten minutes because it’s taking forever, Daddy.”

My grin stretches wide. “Well, shoot. Can’t have y’all starvin’. Let’s do this.”

Harrison and I find Winnie in the kitchen, sitting sideways on a chair, legs kicking. She’s wearing a light blue dress with tutu material along the bottom, and there’s a book in her lap. She barely pays us any mind as we unload my bags onto the countertop.

“So what d’you think?” I ask the room at large. “Fruit or chocolate on top?”

Winnie’s head whips our way. “I can have chocolate for breakfast?” she asks her dad skeptically.

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