“It’s just that Tyler has a way of making things awkward around the guys I date,” Hallie explained.
Christian’s hand froze, his fork hovering above his plate. Heat burst across her face. Of all the explanations she could have made, how didthosewords fly from her mouth?
“Not that we’re dating. We’re just friends. Are we friends? Maybe we’re more like business acquaintances. We’re clients. I mean, I’m not a client. You’re the client. My client.” Hallie hadn’t known she could talk this fast.
Christian stared at her in alarm, like he didn’t quite know what to do with the word vomit spewing from her. Apparently, he didn’t realize she could talk this fast either. He started to respond but her overworking mouth cut him off before he could utter a word.
“Technically, you did take over my website. So maybe I’m your client after all?”
Just. Stop. Talking.
“I’ll do the dishes.” She stood abruptly. Too abruptly. Her thigh knocked against the metal expander on the underside of the table. She sucked a breath in through her teeth as her skin throbbed out a steady pulse in time with her heart.
Christian’s brows pulled together as he watched her carefully. “Are you … okay?”
“Yep. Perfect.”
She set her plate on top of the saucepan soaking inside the sink. Was she okay? Physically, sure, despite the mark that would surely greet her when she changed her clothes tonight.
Emotionally? It was too soon to tell. She threw on the faucet to rinse her plate.
Christian joined her at the sink. “Please, don’t clean up. I’ll handle the dishes later.” He ran a paper towel underneath the faucet once before wringing out the excess.
Returning to the table, he began wiping Penelope’s cheeks. The girl squirmed away from her father’s attempts to clean her.
“You happen to be looking at an expert busser. Are these clean?” She yanked open the door to the dishwasher to find a chaotic jumble of kids’ plates and cups on the top rack. A few child utensils stuck out haphazardly from the container in the center. It looked like an explosion went off in there. She tossed Christian an exasperated side eye.
At least he had the decency to appear ashamed. “Yes, but really, you don’t have to clean up.”
Oh yeah, she did. Someone had to save him from himself. Who loaded the dishwasher like this?
On the other hand, at least he had one flaw. Between his gorgeous looks, brains, and mad dad skills, Hallie had begun to think the man was perfect.
“And you didn’t have to feed me.” She pulled out the bottom rack and found a similar arrangement as the top with larger plates and bowls. “It’s the least I can do. Besides, my mom owns a café but hates doing dishes, so she always left them to the rest of us. It’s second nature to me.”
“We grew up with similar childhoods then. My mom cooked, and my sister and I had to clean up afterward.” Christian tossed the soiled paper towel onto his plate and turned to Isla. “If you’re done, take your dishes to the sink please.”
Hallie stacked four cereal bowls on top of each other. “Where do these go?”
“To the left of the fridge,” he said, freeing Penelope from her booster. Setting her on the floor, he crossed to the dishwasher and plucked the silverware tray from the bottom rack.
Hallie slid the bowls into the cabinet he’d indicated. “And did your after-dinner cleanups turn into impromptu dance parties? Because ours always did.”
Those were some of her favorite memories. So much laughter and joy occurred during times her family spent together, even doing monotonous activities.
“Huh,” Christian muttered, his back to her. “I’ve never pictured Tyler as a dancer.”
“Would you believe he’s better than me?” Hallie chuckled. “I have zero rhythm.”
“Daddy can dance,” Penelope said from the corner of the kitchen where she’d flung herself onto the dog’s bed. Thankfully, the retriever—Princess Pumpkin, as Hallie had learned—was still in the backyard.
Christian whirled to face his daughter, his movement punctuated by clattering metal. “Where’d you hear that, sweetheart?”
Isla spoke for her. “Grandma told Aunt Dani she misses watching you dance. The last time we went to her house.”
His mouth puckered into a grimace, and he returned to sorting the last of the silverware.
Hallie didn’t have time to contemplate his odd reaction before Penelope jumped up from the bed. Dog hair dotted her blue tunic and white-flowered leggings. “Let’s dance!” She extended her arms to the side and twirled.
