MASON HAD BROUGHT HIScomputer with him in order to get through a few emails while Layla took a nap this afternoon, but right now he couldn’t even begin to think about work. The welcoming look in Harper’s eyes said she absolutely understood what he wanted and felt the same way.
His hands twitched, aching to hold her and kiss her and cherish her all the ways he wanted to. How he had ever thought he would be able to stay away was a mystery. At every turn, Harper was there. Building him up, helping him through things, and proving she was the perfect person to have in his life no matter how crazy it was.
“Your pan is starting to smoke,” Harper said softly, her lips twitching.
Mason spun, and sure enough, it was getting too hot. “Hang on.” He took it to the sink and winced at the sizzle and steam when he stuck the pan under the cool water. Carefully, he patted it dry and put it back on the stove. “Okay.” He held a hand over it. “Should be ready in just a minute.” He forced himself to hold still when Harper came up on his left, Layla on her hip.
“I have to say, I never would have expected you to be such a pancake expert.”
He smirked. “I was kind of a big kid...”
“Let me guess. You were hungry all the time and those sugary carbs were the best way to satiate you.”
He tilted his head from side to side. “I can’t say I ever thought of it that way, but yeah.” He pulled his shoulders up. “I just like pancakes.”
“Not waffles?”
“I eat waffles.”
Harper laughed. “Is there anything you don’t eat?”
Mason poured some batter into the pan while he considered the question. “Um...I don’t like oysters. Tried one on the half shell when I first moved here and decided then and there it was never happening again.”
Harper pinched her lips between her teeth, but her smile still broke through. “My mom used to call those expensive snot balls.”
Mason chuckled. “It’s a good word for them.”
She pointed to the pan. “Is it ready?”
Mason took in the amount of bubbles and the edges of the pancake. “Okay. Yep. Back up.”
Harper followed his directions. “Watch, Layla. Uncle Mason is gonna show you a trick.”
Even in his periphery, Mason could see what a beautiful picture the two of them made. One dark, one light. Their faces cuddled close together. It was a good thing his life was never going to be the same, because he was never going to be the same.
His brother had once described Mason as an ultra big teddy bear, and now Mason understood what he meant. He was a big guy, but he had led an orderly, exacting life. Even in his search for Aimee, it had all been organized carefully. Now, however, other than the schedule Harper helped him with, Mason’s days were all over the place. He’d been completely honest on their walk the other day when he’d told Harper his life had taken a one-eighty. But he wasn’t exactly regretting the view.
He gripped the handle of the pan, sending a prayer heavenward that he wouldn’t stick the pancake to the ceiling or something. “Here goes.” Pulling on rote memory, he clenched his jaw and gave the pan an upward jerk.
“Oh my gosh!” Harper said with a laugh. “You did it!” She turned to Layla, clapping her hands. “Yay! Yay for Uncle Mason!”
Layla grinned, still sucking on those two favorite fingers of hers.
Mason made a face and rubbed his heated neck. “I sort of made it.” The pancake was half in and half out of the pan. He quickly grabbed the spatula and did his best to fix it, but the poor thing was permanently scarred. It’ll still taste the same.
“It was great,” Harper reassured him. “I’d have missed the plan completely. Plus, the pancake won’t taste any different, so we’re all good.”
Having his own thoughts parroted back at him had Mason once again wanting to kiss the daylights out of his pretty artist. Naptime couldn’t come fast enough.
They shared a smile-filled breakfast and then worked together to get things cleaned up.
“Syrup and toddlers,” Harper moaned. “Who knew?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t,” Mason quipped. “You seem to know everything.”
“I didn’t deal with breakfast when I was babysitting. It was usually dinner, but I still should have known better.”
He nodded. “That makes sense.” He straightened from wiping down the sticky table. “You must have babysat a lot.”
Harper nodded. “I had an afternoon nannying job during the summer. It got me out of the house and usually left me with a lot of time for daydreaming.” She smiled, but made a face. “I wouldn’t have been a good employee at a place where I had to be ultra focused all the time. But when I took the kids to the park, or they were napping or playing games...it allowed my mind to wander.”
“And what did it wander to?” Mason was fascinated. Despite her talk about daydreams and lack of focus, Harper was a hardworking, well-educated woman. He was struggling to see her as the artistic dreamer she liked to portray.
“Painting,” Harper replied automatically. “Brushes and color and anything else that caught my fancy.”
“When did you first know that painting was going to be your career?”
Harper frowned. “Um...I don’t really know. It just was always there.” She laughed and set Layla down on the floor, drying her hands with the towel. “I have pictures of me painting as a tiny little girl. Layla’s age.”
“So your mom was into painting?”
Harper shook her head. “No. But she indulged me when I was little. As I got older, I had to fight for what I wanted.”
Mason huffed. “Interesting.”
Harper shrugged it off. “My mom is a nice woman, but she has expectations that I don’t necessarily follow.”
Mason nodded. “I hear that. I think this thing with Layla is definitely going to put a wedge in my relationship with my parents.”
“Speaking of...” Harper put her hand on her hip. “Have you heard from them since getting home? You said your mom was talking about fighting the will.”
Mason grumbled. “She’s still talking about it, but I guess my dad is trying to convince her to leave it alone.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure why she cares.” He pushed a hand through his hair and watched Layla walk around, examining the kitchen.
“Her estranged daughter had a daughter,” Harper said. “I can see how that would be painful. And then...after finding out Layla existed, your mom wasn’t chosen as guardian?” Harper whistled low. “Any woman who enjoys control would be livid. Li-vid.”
Mason couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Livid, huh?”
Harper made a face and nodded. “My mom enjoys control as well, though from your stories your mom might be a bit...more heavy handed.”
“I’m seeing it more and more,” Mason muttered. He didn’t want to keep talking about this. He was at Harper’s house on a beautiful Sunday in order to spend some quality time together. His mother was not the kind of conversation he was interested in. “Want to go for a walk?” he asked, craning his neck to look out the window. “It’s sunny again and I don’t think the wind is too bad either.”
Harper followed his gaze. “Another walk sounds great. Did you bring the stroller?”
Mason gave her a triumphant look. “What kind of uncle would I be if I didn’t have a stroller sitting in my car at all times?”
“Not an experienced one, for sure,” Harper teased back. She began walking toward the hallway. “Let’s get Layla’s diaper changed and then we can head out.”
“Why do I get the feeling that by we, you really meant me?” Mason hollered after her.
“She’s your niece!” Harper responded.
Mason was beginning to think that his smile was becoming a permanent part of his face. Even when he realized Layla’s diaper wasn’t going to be a quick change, he couldn’t stop the light, bright feeling that was floating through his chest. He liked it...a lot.