I’m a little fuzzy headed from kissing Iris. “Huh? What show?”
Iris pulls my instructions out of her pocket. “She’s talking aboutKids Can Cook. That cooking show with the kids, remember? You wrote it down.” She points to a section of the notes.
“Oh. Right.” I check my watch. “You’re right, sweetie. Let’s go downstairs.”
Damn. Cock-blocked by a four-year-old.
“C’mon, Miss Iris.” Hailey takes her hand. “Let’s go!”
Even though her back is turned, I cover my crotch when Hailey pulls Iris away from me. I don’t need my daughter asking what that lump in Daddy’s pants is.
Downstairs, we all settle in on the couch. I’m in one corner with Iris next to me, and Hailey lies draped across the both of us. I’d love the cuddle time, but my dick wants Hailey over on her beanbag for more one-on-one time with Iris. With my daughter here, I can’t do half the things I want to do while cuddling with Iris.
We watch Hailey’s show, then comes the big test: Iris making dinner.
I tried to make it as easy as possible. I vacuum sealed several bags of ingredients, all cut and prepped, so the only thing left to do would be to cut open the bags, drop the ingredients in a skillet, and stir. My instructions were explicit on what gets cooked which day, and how the food should look when it’s done.
To her credit, Iris doesn’t undercook the chicken.
She does, however, burn it a little.
Before Iris can start crying in frustration, I try to hype up the meal to Hailey, who looks about as close to tears as Iris does. “Look, honey! It’s blackened, like at the Cajun place. You like Cajun chicken, right?”
“It’s ruined,” Iris says with a small voice.
“Nonsense.” I put an arm around her waist. “We’ll just scrape that part off. It’s fine.”
With a careful hand, I take the hot skillet from Iris and put it on the granite counter. As she watches, I take a piece of chicken from the skillet and pop it in my mouth. I force my face to maintain a neutral expression, refusing to allow the grimace at the acrid taste of burnt chicken.
“See? It’s fine.”
Iris and Hailey exchange a glance, and I know they don’t believe my shit. I sigh and pull my phone out of my pocket. “Okay, I can tell I’m not winning here. How about we call DoorDash?”
Iris’s shoulders relax as she breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God!”
Hailey cheers. “Hamburgers!”
I give her my best stern glare. “This is only while Iris is in charge. You’re not getting junk food every night forever. Just a few nights.”
Iris pulls a credit card from the holder on her phone case, but I wave her off. “No, I’ll cover it. It’s fine, really.”
“But I messed up dinner. I should pay.”
“You’re not paying. I’ve got this. And don’t think about paying for the next three nights, either. I’m leaving you a credit card to use while I’m gone. Just for dinner and emergencies, mind you, but it should cover whatever you might need.”
“But—”
I cut her off with a kiss. “But nothing. Now, what do you want from Frankie’s Diner?”
After we order dinner, we all settle back on the couch for a movie. I let Hailey pick, and I’m pleasantly surprised when she opts for something new.
“Have you seen this one, Miss Iris?”
Iris shakes her head. I doubt she’s watched the newest kids’ movie on Netflix.
“Okay,Mystic Kittens of Muttvilleit is.” I start the movie and wrap my arms around Iris, holding her to my chest while she holds Hailey in her lap.
The movie is actually decent, which is another pleasant surprise. Kids’ flicks can be a crapshoot when it comes to quality, but this one seems watchable again. I get the feeling it’ll be a nightly thing for a while when I see Hailey jump excitedly at every twist.
