Penthouse Prince(25)
“Whatever you’re cooking, it smells amazing,” a low, husky voice calls from down the hall, and Grier hops to her feet, squealing at the sight of her daddy.
Honestly, I can’t blame her. One look at him in that fitted navy blazer, and I could squeal too. It only gets better once he takes it off and unbuttons the cuffs of his white button-up, pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.
What is it about a man’s forearms, specifically this man’s forearms, that’s so freaking sexy? And when said sexy forearms pluck the pj-clad toddler up off the floor, holding her tight against his hip? The whole situation has me split somewhere between an “aww” and a “goddamn.”
“How was your day, baby girl?”
I hurry back toward the kitchen, biting down on my lower lip to keep from answering. That was not directed at me, no matter how much I secretly would have liked it if it were. I should really stick to my pico de gallo.
“Hola, hola, hola!” Grier babbles at her daddy, her holas getting louder as Lexington follows behind me.
I look up from my slicing to see his brows knitted tightly together. “Do I have a bilingual kid now?”
“That would require hiring a nanny who knows more than ten words of Spanish,” I say with a grin, adding a bowl of homemade guacamole to the spread of taco fixings I’ve laid out across the kitchen island. “I was just trying to use taco night as a learning opportunity.”
“Hola is hello!” Grier says proudly to her daddy, her smile spanning the full width of her face.
My smile is just as big. “You’ve got yourself one smart cookie there.”
Grier whips her head back toward me, her blue eyes suddenly wide and wild. “Cookie?”
Lex and I exchange a long, knowing look before bursting into laughter. Smart as she is, this little munchkin is still completely dessert driven.
“No cookies yet, love bug,” Lex says gently to a suddenly disappointed Grier. “But, hey, these tacos look just as tasty, don’t you think?” He pauses, looking back to me with narrowed eyes. “You know you don’t have to cook, by the way. This is above and beyond what I’m paying you for.”
I shrug as I head for the sink and rinse any remnants of avocado off my hands. “I enjoy it. And it’s one less thing for you to worry about.”
“Well, at the very least, you have to stay to enjoy this,” he says, motioning toward the spread. “As long as you don’t have other plans, that is.”
“My other plans would involve leftovers and an early bedtime,” I say. “And I can never say no to tacos. It’s a rule I live by.”
“Smart girl,” he murmurs with a chuckle.
While I situate Grier in her high chair with her trusty friend Flapflap, Lex takes the lead on building the perfect taco for her, all the while regaling me with a story of their last trip to a Mexican restaurant in New York. Apparently, one-year-old Grier had quite the thing for putting black beans up her nose, and dipping her fingers into the queso.
“Kids are weird.” He shakes his head, adding a two-year-old’s portion of ground beef to the flour tortilla.
I have no idea why I’m staring at him. But Lexington Dane is the lead contender for the hottest dad in the world award.
When he looks my way, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Don’t worry. As someone who teaches first graders, I can say for certain that they just get weirder.”
The three of us settle in at the table, and dinner flies by in the blink of an eye, or, more accurately, two flaps of Flapflap’s wings. Grier insists on wrapping her stuffed bat inside a tortilla, then proceeds to howl with laughter so raucous that I’m sure we’ll never calm her down for bedtime. At the first sight of a yawn, Lex snatches the opportunity to start winding things down.
“Someone’s probably about ready for bed, huh?” He reaches over and tousles Grier’s white-blond hair, earning him a pout.
“No!” She huffs, jutting her lower lip out. “I don’t wanna!”
Lex and I both sigh in perfect unison. We should have known she wouldn’t go down without a fight. He props his forearms on the table, giving me another chance to grapple with why in the world his forearms are such a turn-on.
Leaning in closer to his daughter, he offers a solid proposition. “What about this, love bug? I’ll read you two stories instead of one tonight. How’s that sound?”
Grier’s face twists up as she considers the offer, but apparently, it’s not up to her standards. “No. I want corgi.”
I turn toward him, hoping he’s prepared to crack this code, but the look on his face tells me he’s just as confused as I am. It’s not until Grier jabs a finger in my direction that we understand what she’s talking about.
“Corgi,” she says again. “Corgi reads stories.”
“I guess that’s me.” I chuckle, pushing my plate away and pressing to my feet. “Silly me. I thought I was the nanny, not the family dog.”
Lex snickers at my joke, but when it’s time to actually take the little goober to bed, he’s entirely serious. “You can head home if you want. She doesn’t always have to get her way.”
“It’s not a problem.” I scoop the little sleepyhead out of her high chair and bounce her against my hip. “Put your feet up for a bit. We’re gonna go read about the dragon and the dodgeball game, right, kiddo?”