Page 17 of One Hot Daddy

"Whatever doesn't require too much effort," Fletcher admits with a sheepish grin."I'm not exactly Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen."

"Don't worry, I'll make dinner."I can see the turmoil unfolding in Joshua's room."Finish cleaning up, everyone.Dinner in thirty minutes."

As I head downstairs, I hear Fletcher corralling the children behind me, his voice a mixture of exasperation and affection.I feel as if I'm already becoming part of this tightknit, loving family.

The kitchen seems different now that I'm no longer just a visitor organizing someone else's space.I'm the one making dinner, the one creating something for this family.I gather ingredients from the fridge and pantry, mentally cataloging what I have to work with.Chicken breasts, pasta, some vegetables that have seen better days but are still salvageable.Nothing fancy, but I can whip something up quickly.I've always been good at stretching ingredients.

As I begin heating oil in a large skillet, I hear the thunderous sound of four children racing down the stairs.They burst into the kitchen like a small army, with Fletcher trailing behind and looking slightly shell-shocked.

"Wow, it smells yummy in here already," Charlotte announces, hopping onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen island.

"I haven't even started cooking yet, sweetie," I laugh as I season the chicken."That's just the butter melting in the pan."

Charlotte grins."Daddy usually burns the butter."

"I do not burn the butter," Fletcher protests, leaning against the counter beside me."I occasionally...over-caramelize it."

"That's grown-up talk for burning," Henry pipes up, swinging his legs from his perch on the stool."Grandma says so."

I wink at him."No burning tonight.Cross my heart."

Fletcher moves closer, ostensibly to observe me cooking, but I'm acutely aware of his proximity.His arm brushes mine as he reaches for a glass from the cabinet, and I nearly drop the spatula.How can that man smell so damn good all the time?It isn't fair.

"May I help?"he asks, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I glance up at him, noting the way his eyes seem darker in the kitchen lighting."You could boil water for the pasta."

"I think I can manage that without causing a catastrophe."His self-deprecating smile makes me want to hug him.

But instead, I hand Fletcher a large pot, our fingers brushing as he accepts it.The brief contact sends electricity rushing through me, and I should to focus extra hard on not overcooking the chicken.

"Jennifer?"Henry's voice draws my attention."Do you like worms?"

"They're, um...useful creatures," I say diplomatically, flipping the chicken pieces."They help gardens grow."

"See!"Henry announces triumphantly to his siblings."I told you she'd understand!"

Amelia rolls her eyes."Henry, normal people don't keep worms as pets."She scrunches her nose up in disgust."They're gross little slimy things."

"Hulk isn't gross," Henry argues."He's special."

"Where is Hulk now?"I ask, suddenly concerned about earthworm hygiene in the family's kitchen.

"Back in his dirt box in my room," Henry assures me."Dad made me put him back after the bathroom incident."

Fletcher shoots Henry a warning look."We don't need to discuss the bathroom incident with Jennifer on her first day."

But I'm already curious."Bathroom incident?"

"Hulk escaped during my bath last week," Henry explains with all the gravitas of an eight-year-old boy."He went down the drain and Dad had to call the plumber."

Joshua nods."That guy found three worms, two action figures, and a rubber duck.It cost Dad two hundred dollars to clean it all out."

I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing at Fletcher's mortified expression."Well, at least Hulk survived his adventure."

"Yes!That's what I said!"Henry beams at me like I'm the first adult to understand his perspective.

The water begins to boil, and Fletcher adds the pasta with practiced efficiency.I watch him from the corner of my eye while I stir the vegetables into the chicken.His movements are confident despite his claims about kitchen disasters.Maybe he's being modest, or maybe having a nanny around makes him as if he needs to downplay his domestic skills.