The Single Dad (The Dalton Family #3)(52)

“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!”

“Great job, baby,” he said from the other side of the kitchen.

I was sure he was dying over all the noise we were making even though I was trying to be as quiet as I could.

“Can you do another one?” I asked since there were several more that needed flipping.

She started the same way, and as she shimmied the spatula under the pancake, I stole a quick peek at Ford.

His eyes were on us.

More specifically, me.

I could feel the heat from his gaze, and it made a sweat break out over my body.

Good Lord, that man looked sexy, even in his current state. He had on the gray sweatpants that I loved so much, a T-shirt that hugged his back, showing a ripple of muscle, and hair that wasn’t tamed or gelled but wild, like I’d just run my fingers through it.

“Syd! Look!”

I glanced away from Ford, my stare returning to Everly as the second pancake landed even better than the first.

“You’re doing the best job. Now, can you do the remaining ones too?”

“Yep!”

I kept my eyes on her, but I could still feel Ford’s on me.

I wouldn’t look at him.

I couldn’t.

I was positive he’d see right through me, and then he’d know exactly how I was feeling. How last night had taken every ounce of restraint I had. How this morning, watching the two of them together, feeling the intensity of his eyes, was more than I could handle.