“Please, Daddy.”
“Oh, please,” they plead with him.
Grayson rakes his hand through his hair and exhales. “Can we do it at our place? I need to get this polish off them, and well, I just… I don’t really….” He hesitates.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with. They’re your babies, Grayson.”
He nods. “Our place works,” he says cautiously.
“We don’t have to,” I say, keeping my voice low for only him to hear.
“No. It’s fine. It’s just… not something I do. Have women in our home. Other than family, that is.”
“I’m sorry. I can just—” I start, but he stops me with his hand on my arm. His touch is like fire against my skin. Fire mixed with an electric shock. He looks at his hand against my skin, and his mouth falls open. Does he feel it too?
Clearing his throat, he replies, “It’s fine, Laken. Thank you. They’ll love it.” I nod. “You know where we live?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “This is Mason Creek.”
He chuckles. “True.”
“Well, I need to finish my shopping, and then I’ll be over.”
“Yay! Brownies with Miss Waken!” the girls cheer.
I step closer to the cart. “Now, you have to promise me that you’ll be good for your daddy. I won’t be able to come over if your rooms are messy either. So you better get on that when you get home.”
They gasp. “Miss Waken, did you go to our house before?” Harlow asks.
“Daddy, how does she know our room is messy?” Hayden asks.
Grayson and I have to bite down on our lips to keep from laughing. “I’m an adult. I know these things.”
“Daddy, we hafta go.” Harlow looks at him with wide eyes.
“Go fast, Daddy,” Hayden chimes in.
“You’ve bewitched my children.” Grayson chuckles. It’s a deep throaty sound that I wish I could hear every single day.
“They’re sweet girls.” He nods in response. “I’m going to finish up here and run home to unload. Give me an hour or so?”
“That sounds good. Are you sure?”
I look at the girls and smile. “I’m sure, Grayson. I’ll see you soon, ladies.” I wave to them and push my cart down the aisle. I manage to remember it was deodorant that I needed in this aisle, so I grab some and toss it in the cart. Then I circle back around and pick up eggs and a small bottle of cooking oil for the brownie mix. I already had those things at home, but I’m not baking them at home. Then I decide to pick up some disposable foil pans. I’m sure Grayson has some, but in the event that he doesn’t, we’ll be covered.
I make it back to where I left off and finish the last few rows of my shopping before pushing the cart to the checkout.
As I wait my turn, I can’t help but smile. I’ve lived in this town with Grayson Davis my entire life, and in the last week, I’ve had more interactions with him than I would have in an entire year. I’m excited to spend time with the three of them, but I have to remember to remind myself that I’m there to help bake some thank-you brownies with his daughters. I’m not there for the man.
Chapter 6
Grayson
As soon as we pull into the driveway, the girls are unbuckling from their car seats and literally bouncing at the thought of Laken coming to make brownies with them.
“Wait until the truck is off before you open the door,” I remind them.
“Hurry, Daddy!” they exclaim in harmony.
I slow to a crawl just to mess with them. “Daddy,” Harlow whines.
“Faster!” Hayden demands.
I can’t help but laugh as I park my truck and turn off the engine. They move to the door and start to climb out. “Wait for me,” I tell them. Reaching in, I hit the garage door opener before closing my door. My truck is too long to fit, but going into the house through the garage keeps the house cleaner. The girls know to kick off their shoes in the laundry room, and that door stays unlocked, so if someone has to potty, we can race inside quickly without incident. I learned that one the messy way. After a few accidents, you learn to make adjustments.
“We’re big girls, Daddy. We’re this many.” Harlow raises four fingers in the air.
“Yeah,” Hayden echoes.
Biting my cheek to hide my smile, I lift them from the truck, and they take off, sprinting for the front door. “Where are you going? We have nail polish to tend to,” I call after them.
“We hafta cwean our room!” one of them yells back. Is it bad that they also sound so much alike that sometimes even I can’t tell them apart unless they are right in front of me?
Grabbing the bag of cotton swabs and fingernail polish remover, I head into the house. I opt to leave the garage door open. Laken will be here in the next hour or so, and it’s going to be hard to keep the girls contained. I’ll be able to keep them in the garage until Laken is parked. After that, all bets are off.