The Single Dad (The Dalton Family #3)(47)

Me: Do you mind staying a little later?

Sydney: Ford, have fun. Don’t worry about us. I’m heating up the dinner Craig left, and then we’re going to make cupcakes. Since we made bath bombs yesterday, Eve is pretty excited about testing one out tonight. Take your time. I’ll stay as late as you need me to.

Me: What’s a bath bomb?

Me: Or maybe I don’t want to know?

Me: And, shit, am I screwing up all your plans tonight? I didn’t even ask if you had something going on.

Sydney: Gabby and I were supposed to have a girls’ night. She spent all day cooking for it. :(

Me: Fuck …

Sydney: I’m kidding. I had no plans. Stop worrying. All is good.

Sydney: Also, come home hungry. There will be tons of extra cupcakes.

Me: I appreciate you doing this.





“He’s texting with Sydney,” Dominick said. “There’s no one else, aside from Everly, who can make him smile that hard.”

I glanced up from my phone.

Jenner said, “Is that true? Are you texting with Sydney?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Oh hell, he’s in it hard.”

“Stop it,” I told them. “We were talking about fucking cupcakes, and since Hannah started baking at my house, I’ve developed a sweet tooth. That’s what you saw—an excitement for the dessert, nothing else.”

“But Hannah isn’t the one baking. It’s Sydney.” Dominick paused. “Am I right?”

I nodded.

“And it’s more than just her cupcake you want to eat,” Jenner added.

I flipped him off and returned to my phone.

Me: Just out of curiosity, what flavor?

Sydney: Your favorite, of course.





I laughed.

She knew.

She’d learned during her first week when she made a cake with Everly and she watched me pick around the vanilla cake and only eat the chocolate frosting.

Since there was no reason to reply, I set the phone on the table and gazed up at the guys.

Both were staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

“What?” Dominick mocked, laughing. He raised his hand and called over the waitress, saying to her, “Can you bring two rounds of tequila shots, please?”

“No,” I said before she left our table. “You can bring two rounds for them, and I’ll take a water.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jenner instructed. “He’ll take the two rounds and a water.” Then, he looked at me the moment she was gone and said, “We’re getting shit-faced tonight.”





My phone showed it was well after one in the morning when I tiptoed into my house. Sydney had known I was going to be this late; we’d shared a few more text exchanges since discussing the flavor of cupcakes, so I wasn’t filled with guilt as I made my way into the kitchen.

The smell instantly hit me, the chocolate in the air making my goddamn stomach grumble.

“Fuuuck,” I moaned as I searched for where she had put them.

And then I found the adorable display—the cupcakes shaped like a mountain with a glass dome over them.

I lifted the lid, checking out the decoration that had undoubtedly been done by my daughter. Although, I had to admit, she was getting much better. The frosting was mostly swirled, the rainbow sprinkles evenly distributed. She’d even attempted to write a D for Daddy across several. I could tell the ones Sydney had assisted with—the squiggly letters much straighter, smoother.

“You’re home.”

I looked up as Sydney was rising from the couch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

God, she was beautiful.

Her hair was down and a little wild, her clothes clinging to her, outlining a body I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

Lips pouty, like they needed to be ravished. Eyes heavy, as though I’d just given her three orgasms.

“What are you doing down here?” I asked. “I told you to crash in one of the guest rooms if you got tired.”

“I figured I’d drive home once you got back.” She tightened the blanket around her, cutting off my view, and waddled into the kitchen as the blanket hung well past her feet. “I didn’t want to get too cozy, but I guess I failed because I fell asleep.”

I checked the time on my phone again. “You’re not driving home tonight. It’s too late.”

Shit.

I’d fucking fathered her.

Not my intention.

Still, my opinion didn’t change.

“I just don’t want you on the road at this hour,” I clarified. “And I’m sure, by now, my driver is halfway to his house.”

She set the blanket on the back of a chair and went to the fridge, grabbing a carton of milk. She poured some in two glasses and handed me one. “You’re going to need this. They’re rich.” She placed a cupcake on a napkin that she set in front of me and grabbed one for herself. “And it’s fine, by the way. I probably shouldn’t drive this late; you’re right.”

I could hear the tiredness in her voice and felt like hell because I’d woken her up. “I’m sorry, Sydney. Go upstairs and get some sleep. I’ve got this.”