“Now that’s a sound a man could get used to coming home to.”
I glance up to see Baker standing in the doorway of the mudroom that leads into the kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest, his legs crossed at his ankles, as he leans against the frame, smiling at us.
“Sorry, we were having so much fun, we didn’t hear you come in. Welcome home.”
“Daddy, cook-kie.” Camden holds up the football cookie cutter we were just using.
“I see that, bud,” he says, standing to his full height and walking toward us. He stops behind me, placing his hands on my waist while kissing my cheek, before leaning down and doing the same to his son. “They smell great,” he tells us.
“That’s because I have such a great helper. A little messy.” I wince. “But worth it.”
“Can Daddy make one?” he asks Camden.
Camden nods, grabs the jersey cutter, and hands it to him. Baker steps closer, aligning my back to his front, and leans around me, his breath hot at my ear, and cuts a cookie.
“Daddy, yay!” Camden claps for his daddy, just as he’s been clapping for the two of us with every cookie we make.
The timer on the oven goes off, and I glance over my shoulder at Baker. “That’s the first batch. I need to take them out.”
“I’ll get them.” He winks, releases his hold on me, and quickly pulls the tray of cookies out of the oven. “What now?” he asks.
“This second tray is ready to go in.” I hand it to him over the counter. “Set the time for ten minutes,” I tell him.
“Got it.” He does as I ask and comes back to where he was, wrapping an arm around my waist. I should ask him what this is. I feel the change between us, but I’m also too afraid to bring it up. I want him. I want us, and staying here, taking care of his son, spending time with them on the days when I don’t have to, it all feels too real, too perfect.
We spend the next couple of hours baking the rest of the cookies and putting icing on them.
“Babe, what are you going to do with all of these cookies?” Baker asks, staring at the kitchen island. It’s completely covered. Our cookie-making got a little out of control.
“Well, I guess you’re going to be taking them to practice tomorrow.”
“You know Coach is going to have my a—rear,” he says, quickly glancing at Camden.
“Just tell him that Camden made them for the team. He’s a softie these days after becoming a grandpa. He’ll give y’all a pass,” I tell him, laughing.
Baker smirks. “I like the way you think.”
“What is it that they say? It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission?” I laugh as Camden comes barreling into the kitchen, holding his stuffed Rowdy the Rhino. “Swoan, up.” He holds his arms up for me, and I pick him up. “Looks like I missed a spot when I cleaned you up.” I laugh, wiping a little speck of icing from the corner of his mouth.
“Cam, coo-kie.” He points to the island.
“Oh, no, you don’t, mister. You’ve already had two. That’s enough for one day.” He juts out his bottom lip, and I shake my head.
“Daddy, Cam, cook-kie.”
“Nope, you heard Sloane. That’s enough for one day.” Baker walks around the island and wraps his arms around us. He pretends to nibble on Camden’s neck, making him squeal with laughter and clutch on to me.
“Why don’t you boys go spend some time together, and I’ll finish washing up these dishes?” I hand Camden to Baker, and he falls into his dad’s arms easily.
“I’ll help with this.”
“Nope. Your job today is to spend some time together. I’ll handle this.”
“Only if you promise to come to us when you’re done.” Baker’s hazel eyes bore into mine.
“Deal.” I kiss Camden’s cheek and start to pull away.
“Swoan. Daddy kiss.” He pats his dad’s cheeks.
