* * *
The doorto Brody's new house swung open and revealed a grinning Jacks.
"Hey, Cam!"
"Hi, Jacks. How are you today?"
She pulled the door open wide, leaning over and sweeping her arm out wide in an old-fashioned bow. "I'm wonderful. Please come in."
I choked back a laugh and stepped inside. A mouthwatering scent wafted through the house as soon as she shut the door behind me.
Jacks threw herself against my legs and hugged my waist. "Dad's cooking cream cheese chicken enchilada casserole." She made a face. "And salad. He said you might judge him if he doesn't feed us vegetables."
I couldn't hold back my laugh this time. I even snorted a little. Jacks laughed with me but I could tell she wasn't sure why we were laughing.
"I wouldn't judge him, sweetie," I told her. "I run an ice cream shop with not a piece of fruit or a vegetable in sight. Unless you count candied cherries."
"Now, you've ruined my excuse for forcing her to eat salad tonight," Brody groused as he came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel.
Good Lord, the sight of him did things to me. Crazy, uncontrollable things. He wore a plain white t-shirt and a pair of threadbare jeans that clung to his hips and thighs. And he was barefoot. I don't know why, but the sight of him in his element made my heart twist. He looked like home.
"Hey," I greeted him, unable to think of anything else to say.
Brody's eyes were hot and I knew that his mind had gone to the same place mine had and he liked it. Crap. Shit. Damn. There was a six-year-old present. Even she wouldn't be oblivious to the sexual tension for much longer.
Relief flooded me when the child in question piped in, "Do we still have to eat salad?"
Brody came closer and ruffled her long hair. "Yep. You still have to eat it."
I inhaled. He smelled like warm cotton and whatever soap or deodorant he used. I decided it was even better than the scent of the food.
Like Jacks, he hugged me. I hadn't exactly been expecting it but I leaned into him and wrapped my arms around his waist. I managed to resist the urge to bury my face against his chest and smell him like a puppy. There was a good chance I would lick him too. Probably not a good idea with his daughter just a few feet from us.
"You smell like vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate," he rumbled in my ear.
He. Was. Not. Helping.
I cleared my throat and released him. "Uh, cream cheese chicken enchiladas smell really good."
"They're awesome," Jacks stated.
Brody smiled. "I know it's bad manners to brag but they are awesome."
I took another step away because the temptation to launch myself back into his arms was strong. "I didn't realize you cooked."
I didn't have personal knowledge of his finances but I was pretty sure he could afford to hire a personal chef. I knew his parents had one.
"I like cooking," he answered with a shrug. "Jacks usually helps me."
"He said I'm the best kitchen helper he's ever had!"
Well, that explained it. He used it as time to spend with his daughter.
"We've taken a couple of cooking classes together," she continued.
It was official. I was a puddle inside. I had to do something to offset this.
"Next, you're going to tell me that you clean your house yourself."
