The Single Dad (The Dalton Brothers 3)

“Pancakes!”

I laughed. “Why does that not surprise me?” I winked at her and looked at Ford. “How about you?”

He rubbed the side of his head. “Pancakes work for me.”

“And how about something greasy, like bacon? And hash browns?”

“Yes,” Ford said, “and yes.”

“Then, I’ve got an idea.” I stole my hat back from her and held out my arms to Everly. “You come with me, Miss Eve. We have lots of cooking to do, and your dad will head into his office, so he can get some work done. Once we’re finished, we’ll bring him a giant breakfast. How does that sound?”

“I canceled my meeting this morning,” he said. “I’m going to sit here and nurse this coffee for a little while longer.”

“Woof,” I joked.

He nodded. “Yep. That.”

“Well, that changes nothing,” I said. “It only means Everly and I will have an audience while we’re cooking all the things.”

“I wanna cook the bacon,” Eve said.

She climbed into my arms, and I carried her to the fridge.

“You can lay it out on the pan, okay?” I handed her the packet of bacon and took out the eggs. “And while I’m flipping the bacon, you can tell me when it’s done. We’re shooting for extra crispy.”

“What’s extra crispy?”

“When the bacon turns brown at the ends and the texture wrinkles up a bit, like your fingers last night because you were in the bath for so long.”

“Ohhh.” She laughed. “I ’member now.”

Once I set the eggs on the counter, I found her step stool in the pantry and placed it on the floor near a large section of countertop and balanced her on top of it. I then found a fry pan and put it in front of her.

“Align the pieces in stripes,” I instructed. “Like a zebra.”

“A zebra!” She looked at her dad. “Daddy, we need a zebra for my animal family. One with extra stripes. And I wanna dye her tail blue, like my hair was last night.”

He circled his fingers over his temples. “A zebra. Check.”

I giggled to myself and gathered everything else I needed for the pancakes and potatoes and started measuring and mixing. “Eve, I’m going to need your pancake-flipping expertise. Are you up for the task?”

“Oh boy.”

I laughed at her response. Words she’d most definitely learned from me. “What’s wrong? Not feeling it this morning?”

“The last time I made ’em with you, they were a gooey mess, Syd.”

That had been a couple days ago when she reached inside the fishbowl I now kept in her room and fished out the letter P. This was an activity we did every morning, incorporating that letter into our day’s adventure.

Of course, she’d immediately announced we were making pancakes the second she saw the letter.

As she flipped the first batch, some had ended up on the backsplash.

Some on the floor.

But the survivors had been edible, and that was all that mattered.

“That’s not true at all.” I moved over to where she was standing. “You did a fabulous job, and we had so much fun, didn’t we?”

“Syd …”

I put my hand on her shoulder and said softly, “Who says pancakes have to be round? They all taste the same, whether they’re oblong or octagon.”

“Or a scrambly mess.”

I grinned. “Or a scrambly mess.” I gently shook her, urging her on. “We’re going to try again. I’ll be right next to you to assist if you need it, but I don’t think you will.”

“Okaaay.”

I combined all the ingredients and added butter to the skillet, waiting for it to melt. In the meantime, Everly finished aligning the bacon, and that was starting to crisp up while the potatoes were browning on the stovetop.

I poured small amounts of batter onto the pan and waited for the bubbles to appear.

“Eve, you’re almost up.” I handed her the spatula and moved her stool a little closer to the stove, so she wouldn’t have to reach. “Remember, you’re going to try to get the spatula all the way under the pancake before you flip.”

“Bubbles!”

“It’s ready. Work your magic, girl.”

She bit her tiny lip as she moved the metal tip under the batter. My hand was in place, ready, if she needed me. But she didn’t. She wedged the whole blade beneath the pancake and gradually lifted it before she turned her wrist, and it landed with very little smear.

“You did it,” I sang. “And look how pretty it is.”

“I did it!” she shouted back. “Daddy, I did it!”