She could whip up some French toast or waffles, maybe prep dough for some rolls for later tonight. “I think I probably should get started on breakfast.”
She left them to finish their coffee, avoiding Jack’s gaze, and returned to the kitchen.
It took her a few minutes to grab all the ingredients she’d need and set them on the counter. She ripped open a package of bacon, separated the slices, and put them in the large pan before turning to the waffles.
She grabbed the flour and measured it out, then took a moment to sift it before she added the baking powder. The French doors opened again and Jack was there.
“Can I help with anything?”
“I’ve got it,” she said, barely looking up. “This is one thing I can do all on my own.”
Well, except for the fact that Payton had technically paid for all the ingredients she was using.
“Of course you can. But I would still like to help. Here,” he said, setting down a sheaf of paper. “I took the liberty of adding my information in the guarantor section. It’s your loan application,” he explained. “I already spoke to my accountant and he’s willing to review everything and submit the final package directly. And before you object to his help, let’s look at it as something I insist upon, making sure we’re doing everything legally and without conflict considering my position.”
She nodded, not seeing any point in arguing since his reasoning was valid.
Her gaze went to the papers, her chest suddenly tight with excitement.
This is really going to happen.
He was watching her, smiling and nodding. “You probably should start thinking of some names for your new bakery, if you haven’t already.”
“Not really,” she said vaguely, biting down a round of laughter that desperately wanted out.
Of course she had thought about names, somewhere in the dark reaches of her mind several names had popped up for consideration these past few years, even though she never thought anything would really ever come of it.
Until now.
Brimming with anticipation and confidence, she grabbed the carton of eggs, and she found satisfaction in the cracking of the shells against the counter as she added them to another bowl, one by one.
He headed over to the stove where the bacon was beginning to sizzle. “How about I take care of the bacon and you cover everything else.”
She glanced up in surprise that his request to help had been actually sincere. Leo’s idea of helping her with breakfast had been calling the kids to eat. But this guy…he seemed determined to help. Realizing it would be foolish to refuse, she nodded and pulled out the waffle iron she’d come across yesterday looking for the muffin tins.
Jack stood over the pan, a fork in his hand ready to flip the bacon. “Waffles, huh. I can’t say I’ve ever enjoyed homemade waffles—unless you count Eggos. Those Lily and I eat pretty regularly.”
“I may or may not be guilty of having a box of the same in my freezer at home,” Daisy said and smiled. “For those rushed mornings.” Eggs in, she grabbed the milk and vegetable oil next, adding them to the eggs. “So this upcoming campaign. Are you expecting a lot of competition? I mean, you’re a Republican in a pretty red state, isn’t it a given that you’ll win?”
Jack smiled, pausing as he lifted a piece of bacon to look at the bottom before flipping it over. “From the way you said ‘Republican,’ I’m going to assume you’re a Democrat, something I wouldn’t recommend mentioning to Stuart unless you want to give him an aneurism.”
“I’m not any party really. I vote with the candidate who’s most in line with my own values. However,” she added, glancing up at him. “Governor Pratchett did not have my vote in the last election, and I’ll say as much if I’m asked.”
“Let’s hope that maybe I can win you over.” There was something in the way he said it, almost insinuating something more, much more, that brought her gaze to his again.
And just like that, a wave of heat from somewhere south of her belly had her knees nearly buckling.
He was just talking about your vote, Daisy. Get a grip.
Pulling her gaze from his, she returned her attention to the bowl in front of her. She forced her hands to steady as she measured the sugar and sifted it into the flour.
They worked in an easy silence until, a few minutes later, the pattering of feet overhead told her the kids were stirring.
“Morning, Mommy,” Natalie said, the first to arrive in her pink butterfly-covered nightgown, her hair ratted in the back from sleeping on it when it was still damp. Daisy stopped what she was doing, bent down to squeeze Natalie first, and then Paul—whose hair wasn’t much better, before he threw himself in her arms.
“What are we doing today?” he asked after she put him back down. He wandered over to see what Jack was doing. “Are we going to go sailing?”
“Actually, honey, I think we’re doing some other things today…” Daisy started, trying to remember what Stuart had on the agenda. Wasn’t it something about lunch at an outdoor café for a photo op?