“Um,” I stutter, unsure as to what to do.
Huxley’s hand lands on my bicep. “I’ll get the door. You need to get yourself together.”
Before I can respond, he’s skipping out of the kitchen. I busy myself trying to take the skin off the onion and eavesdropping on Huxley and Dani as much as I can. I don’t hear much. Finally, I glance up and they’re standing in the doorway.
Huxley’s wearing a huge grin, his eyebrows lifting up and down. I chuckle and then stop when my gaze lands on Danielle.
She’s wearing a pair of jeans that are tucked into a pair of boots. A mustard-colored sweater sits snugly around her curves, which are showcased even more with her hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head.
My mouth goes dry. I can’t take my eyes off of her. Something about the way she looks in my house, so casual and easy, has my brain fogged.
“Hey,” she says finally. “I think you’re burning that.”
“Shit!” I exclaim, turning around to see the sausage meat frying again. Pulling it off the burner, my jaw locked, I remind myself I can’t mess this up. This is my chance to prove I’m more than a bachelor, more than a baseball player, more than the athlete types she knows. And I’m burning fucking dinner.
Her hand lands on my back and I relax on contact. Her vanilla perfume wraps around me as she peers into the skillet. She must sense my anxiety because she lifts on her toe and kisses my cheek. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and I’ll finish.”
“Get cleaned up?” I say, standing there holding a pan in the air. “Do I not look good?”
I’m slightly offended. I’ve busted my ass to make this night as perfect as possible and everything is going wrong.
“You have grease and chocolate icing all over your shirt,” she whispers. I look down and see that she’s right. “Let me help.”
“You don’t even know what I’m making.”
“Huxley will help me.” She looks over her shoulder. “Right, Hux?”
“Sure.”
She pats my ass. “Go on. Get a new shirt on and breathe a little, Landry. He’s just a kid.”
I hide my smile. “Yeah, why I’m so nervous about a kid is beyond me.”
Turning on my heel, I pass Hux and give him a wink. He responds by sticking a hand out that I high-five on my way out.
Danielle
LINCOLN’S LAUGH FILLS THE AIR. It’s a different laugh than I’ve heard from him. It’s completely relaxed, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I watch him reach over and bump Huxley’s shoulder. The boy looks up at him like he hung the moon.
He was so great with Rocky, but seeing him with Huxley is a new level of amazing. They’re natural together, like brothers or a father and son. For a split second, I imagine Lincoln as a father. It wouldn’t take much work to imagine us having dinner as a family.
A warmth like I’ve never felt before stretches through my chest, burrowing into little cavities that have been empty my entire life. Places I didn’t know were there. I don’t want this feeling to end.
“This was really good,” Huxley says, setting down his fork. “Thank you for making it, Linc. And thank you for coming to dinner with us, Danielle.”
“You are so welcome. Thank you for inviting me.”
“My mom would really like you.”
“You think?” I ask.
“Yeah. You’re smart and nice and you make Lincoln laugh a lot.”
“Well, Lincoln makes me laugh a lot too.”
Lincoln watches us banter, a huge smile on his face. He’s leaned back at the head of the table, his blue workout shirt nearly painted on his body. I can see every line of his muscles, every ridge of his frame.
Huxley tries to hide a grin. “I think Lincoln likes you.”