The Country Duet(72)

“You know what, Hunter?”

I pry my gaze from the waffle maker over to her. “What’s that, squirt?”

She squeezes her little eyes shut then blurts out, “I love you.”

Those three words, from the most honest person I’ve ever met, nearly knock me on my ass. I swallow and try to find the words to reply to her. This little person has no ulterior motives to love me; it’s spun from raw honesty. My whole world just came together. I thought this little person had shattered it the day she came running to the shop, but I was so very wrong.

I take a step near her. “Open your eyes, Baker.”

I watch as she slowly listens to me and pops her eyes open, stabbing me with beautiful aqua eyes. “You let me into your world, Baker. You invited me to your birthday party when you barely knew me. You make me laugh every single day, and also believe in the right in this world.”

She interrupts me, growing restless with my explanation. “So, do you love me, too?”

This time I’m unable to stifle my laughter and let it out. “Yes, that means that I love you.”

“Like you love my Momma? I hear you tell her all the time.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I love you more.”

I wink at her. “But don’t tell her that.”

Baker jumps up on the counter, then throws her arms wide open and leaps into my chest. It scares the shit out of me since she just bounded off the counter, but I catch her with grace.

“I knew it. I just knew it,” she squeals into my ear.

“What?” I ask.

“That my birthday wish is coming true.”

I smile and hold her tighter. Funny, the path life takes you on when you least expect it. I never in a hundred years thought I’d end up here, but I don’t want to be any other place. Life has a funny way of making you believe in things you never thought possible. It’s sweet.

The smell of a burning waffle hits me first, then the smoke alarm begins chirping at a shrieking decibel.

“Shit.” I set Baker back down on the counter then dive for the waffle that was seconds away from becoming charcoal.

“Shit,” Baker mimics me.

“No, don’t say shit.” I try to flip the waffle out of the maker and into the sink.

“Why can’t I say shit? You just said shit.”

My knuckles graze the hot iron of the waffle maker. “Motherfucker.”

I swing my hand in the air to soothe the pain while I flip the other one around to clear some of the smoke.

“Oh, motherwucker,” Baker chirps.

“No, you can’t say that, sweetie.” I finally get the burnt waffle to the sink while still trying to make the rest of the smoke disappear.

“You said motherwucker.”

“Christ,” I bellow out, wondering how this got so off track in the blink of an eye.

Then Teale’s giggles fill the room. I turn to see her covering her mouth, watching the disastrous scene play out in her kitchen.

“Need help, Cowboy?”

“I surrender.” I hold both my hands up and back away from the waffle iron and batter.

She waltzes up to me, curling her arms around my middle, then reaches up on her tiptoes, planting a sweet and chaste kiss on my cheek.

“Go have a seat and I’ll finish breakfast.”

I find myself on the other side of the kitchen bar where I belong, with Baker sitting in front of me on the counter. She has a first-aid kit out, tending to my knuckles. Baker has half a tube of Neosporin on my knuckles and now about three Band-Aids. I don’t have the heart to tell her they’ll be okay with no tending to, but she’s having fun.

“Momma, guess what?” She pushes her bangs from her face while applying the last bandage, or I at least hope it’s the last one.

“What, baby girl?”

“Hunter loves me.”

“Oh, really.”

She nods with her little tongue sticking out the right side of her mouth deep in concentration. “He woves me more than you.”

“Baker!” I exclaim in shock. “That was our little secret.”

Her tiny, white teeth shine bright back at me. “Oops.”

Like magic, Teale has our waffles plated and in front of us with all the fixings. I have no idea how she did it. Baker distracted me, causing me to fail on my first shot. I wonder if you can make waffles in the Instapot? Mentally, I note to ask my mom. If anyone can figure it out, it’s her.

Baker and I gobble up our fair share of breakfast. Once everyone is finished eating, I make Teale spend time with Baker while I clean up the kitchen. It’s the least I can do after the shit show this morning.

By the time I make it out to the living room, Baker is fresh from the bathtub dressed in her signature hot pink outfit. Everything about her is a miniature version of Teale, from her skinny jeans to her baggy sweater and designer boots. She’s sitting on the floor watching her favorite cartoon while Teale effortlessly braids her hair. It’s not the three-strand type of brand I’ve mastered on horse tails, but some intricate shit.

There’s nothing more tempting right now than me wanting to go over and snuggle up to Teale on the couch and to discreetly touch her. The sad truth is there’s way too much pent up energy vibrating between us right now. An adult night is a must in the very, very near future or my balls may bust.