“But camping sounds fun.”
Nodding towards the main house, I ask him, “How about we go and make those brownies you so badly wanted to bake the first time I was here, and we can eat them out here while we watch a movie on my laptop?”
He shoots me a toothy grin. “With extra chocolate chips?”
This kid knows me too well. I hold my palm up for a high-five. “With extra chocolate chips.”
Thirty minutes later, Gracie, Leo and I are nose-deep in the recipe books Evan has lining his kitchen shelves. Mostof them are covered in a thin layer of dust and don’t appear to have been used in years, but once we stumble upon a killer fudge brownie recipe, we get to work.
“Save some batter for the actual brownies,” I tell Leo, whose mouth is full of it, and he giggles, bare feet smacking against the kiddie stool he’s standing on as he dances with glee.
However, the smell of flour, eggs and chocolate is soon overpowered by a fresh, manly scent, and Evan appears in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against it with his arms crossed.
Our eyes clash, and I pick up on the confusion swirling within his irises.
“You’re still here.”
I raise my shoulders, wetting my hands under the faucet and drying them on my ripped denim shorts. “Brownies were too tempting.”
Evan releases a soft hum of understanding, but he’s studying me, almost like he can’t quite understand why I’m here. Or maybe it’s because he doesn’t want me here. Probably the latter.
“Daddy, we couldn’t lift the pool!” Leo exclaims, and Evan’s gaze drifts out of the window to the baby blue paddling pool that’s still full to the top. We had tried our best earlier, but we couldn’t flip it over to get rid of all the water, and after spending over thirty minutes using mugs to scoop it out and pour it onto the grass, we gave up.
“I’ll do it.” Evan’s voice is low, and he exits the back door through the kitchen.
I follow after him, not wanting him to think I was going to leave it for him to do. “I’ll help.”
“I can do it, Flo.” He doesn’t sound frustrated with me. He just sounds tired.
“Really? You’re not going to accept help to tip over a kiddie pool? The rubber duckies aren’t going to judge, West.” I gesture to the plastic ducks slowly floating on the water.
He simply stares at me.
Not taking no for an answer, I join him, getting onto my haunches and slotting my fingers between the bottom of the pool and the grass, raising it in the same direction Evan is angling it.
However, I don’t support the plastic of the pool as it flips, and sun-warmed water slaps me in the chest, soaking me immediately. The now soggy white top I’m wearing clings to my skin for dear life, and it suddenly feels like the fabric is suffocating me, my nipples immediately hardening, on show from my lack of a bra.
“Shit,” Evan mumbles, shaking his head. “You okay?” His greys drop to my chest, and it’s like he’s frozen as I shake the water from my hands.
I’m aware he’s staring.
He’s aware he’s staring.
But neither of us says anything about it as we study each other.
“I’m fine… just wet.” I gather the bottom of my top in my hand and twist it together to wring out the water. My midriff is slightly on show, and I know I should tear my gaze away from the ogling single dad standing before me, but I can’t.
I like it—the way he’s looking at me.
I like it and I shouldn’t.
It appears as if he’s trying to memorise all of me before what he’s looking at disappears as he clutches onto the limp plastic of the paddling pool a little too tightly, grey eyes turning from ice to a storm—dark and intense.
His jaw twitches as he grinds his teeth, and my stomach flutters. But Evan soon drops his gaze and clicks his tongue, eyebrows pinching. “You should go and change.”
My laughter rings out, and I flatten the fabric of my top back down. “It’s fine, it’s hot so it’ll air dry. I should help Leo and Gracie finish those brownies. It was my idea, and I can’t leave them to clean it all up.”
Water trickles down my legs, and it cools the burning sensation for a moment.
