Page 49 of Wishing Hearts

Harrison shrugs a little, but when his gaze meets mine, his eyes are twinkling. I love that damn twinkle. “Suppose so,” he says. “If Sam says it’s waffle protocol.”

“Oh, most definitely is,” I agree with a nod. “Everybody knows waffles are basically just breakfast cake. And cake and chocolate go together.”

“They do,” Winnie says with all the confidence of a ten-year-old dessert chef. “But cake also has frosting. Did you bring frosting, Sam?”

Harrison’s lips press together, and I flourish a tub Winnie’s way. “I’ll do you one better, li’l miss. I brought whipped cream.”

Winnie’s chair nearly topples over as she clambers out of it. Tigger chases her to the counter, blunt nails tapping the floor as her little stub wiggles.

“Daddy,” Winnie says in all seriousness, her eyes raking over the ingredients I brought. She picks up the chocolate shavings first, examining the package. “We should have waffles more often.”

Harrison rubs his smiling mouth. “That so?”

“Yep. Eggs are boring,” Winnie declares. “Waffles are awesome.”

“Well, in that case, we’ll have to have Sam come by again, huh?” Harrison says.

Winnie seems to ponder that, checking the tub of whipped cream next. “That might be okay.”

Feeling mighty proud of myself, and a touch choked up, I go searching Harrison’s shelves for a large bowl. The man himself helps me before long, hand along my lower back as he opens the correct cupboard door. Tingles race over my skin when Harrison drags his thumb against me slowly.

“Bribing my daughter, hm?” he asks under his breath, not sounding remotely upset about that fact.

I turn to him, matching his quiet tone. “I seem to recall a certain veterinarian tellin’ me he was the one with the biggest sweet tooth.”

Harrison pulls down the bowl, eyes flitting to me after a moment. “Bribing me, then?” he asks.

“Spoilin’ you,” I amend, brushing his lower lip before I draw my hand away, cognizant of Harrison’s established boundaries. “’Cause I like seein’ this smile.”

Harrison lets out a slow breath. “You’re an angel, aren’t you? That’s what this is.”

“What?” I ask around a laugh.

He nods, like it’s all settled. Voice nearly a whisper, he says, “An angel of cock and cake. Two of my very favorite things. I must’ve died and gone to Heaven.”

Dang, Harrison is being cheeky. I like this side of the vet.

“Well, if I’m an angel, what does that make you?”

“One lucky bastard,” he retorts before turning away, bowl in hand.

My insides swoop, and grin on my face, I follow Harrison as he grabs a whisk from beside the stove. He holds it out to me, and, taking the hint, I set to work making waffle batter.

Fifteen minutes later, Winnie is back at the kitchen table, carefully portioning cut strawberries, chocolate shavings, and whipped cream onto her waffle. Her tongue sticks out the side of her mouth as she concentrates on getting the proportions just right, and when my gaze swings to Harrison, I nearly bust out laughing because he looks exactly the same. His pile of chocolate and whipped cream, I note with some amusement, is even bigger than Winnie’s.

“Bon appetit,” I declare, settling into my own seat.

I’ve just added strawberries to my waffle when the front door opens and closes, and a voice calls out, “Harrison? Winnie?” I look to Harrison, whose eyes are wide, and have just enough time to wonder at who arrived before Winnie is calling back.

“Kitchen,” she yells.

“Oh Lord,” Harrison mutters, shooting me a little wince. “It’s—”

“Well, there you are,” a woman says, entering the room. She’s tall and whip-thin with short, gray hair, and when her eyes land on me, she freezes. A man steps into the room not a moment later, looking from the woman to where we’re sitting, and when his gaze finds me, he cocks his head. Clearly, they weren’t expecting Harrison to have company.

“Hey,” Harrison says, standing up and heading toward the duo, who I’m assuming at this point are his parents. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

He gives both a quick hug. Winnie hasn’t bothered coming up for air and continues scarfing down her dessert breakfast.

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