Baby Daddy Wanted (Crescent Cove 5)

I shrugged. “I do okay.”

“I’ll say.”

I needed to veer her away from this line of conversation. “Speaking of dinner, I even have fresh bread from the market bakery too. I didn’t have time to bake some myself.”

“You do not bake bread.”

“I like the rustic kind that you eat with stew or soup, but yeah.”

“We’re totally doing that one snowy night.”

I swallowed. She was thinking about more than today. More than me just helping her out.

I wasn’t great with signals, but even I was starting to pick up some now.

“I can’t believe you did all this anyway. Especially after I’m asking you for a favor. That doesn’t seem right.”

“I don’t mind. I don’t get to cook for people too often.” I looked down at my feet before I did something stupid like lower my lips to hers.

“Well, all I do is cook—well, bake—for people. So this is really nice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She took a step back and washed the spoon before laying it back down next to my Ninja Pot. Latte decided he’d been ignored long enough and started dancing around in circles.

“Uh oh. Does someone need to go outside?” She crouched down and scratched along his ears. “I think he does.”

“I’ll take him. Too many predators out there for this little guy.” I scooped him up and prayed he didn’t pee on me before I got him outside, then noticed my damn computer was still on.

Shit.

My logo was bouncing around the screen. Way to go, idiot.

“Speaking of…it was a long ride.”

“Huh?” I blinked back in at her voice.

“Bathroom?”

“Oh, sure.” I pointed to the wall just beyond the kitchen. “There’s a little water closet just there.”

She tilted her head at me. “In the wall? Oh, is that a hidden door?” She pressed against the little seam and the door popped open. “How cool is that?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the flow of the house, so I hid it.”

“Well, I love it.” She smiled and slipped inside, closing the door.

I rushed over to the computer and clicked on the mail and chat window. Damn, I’d only written half a letter back to her. No time to figure that out right now. I’d just do it later.

I heard the toilet flush, then the water running.

Move faster.

I tried to close the email window, but Latte gave a little distress bark and the quick whoosh of the email sent sound told me I had not hit the right thing at all.

“Shit,” I whispered.

I didn’t have time to unsend it, and that option didn’t work half the time anyway with web email clients. I’d have to do some triage later. Maybe I’d just keep her busy so she didn’t look at her phone until we were apart.