“I’m so hungry,” he whines.
Cole looks half-pissed, half-grateful as I set Noah down.
He bolts into the kitchen.
“Thanks,” Cole groans. “Usually I handle his hunger tantrums better, but I didn’t sleep much.”
“I’ll give him his breakfast. You go lie down, or relax and drink the latte.”
“How are you so perky at eight in the morning?” he asks, yawning.
I start buttering Noah’s toast.
“I noticed something about his eyes,” I say.
“Whose eyes?”
“They’re a treasure chest of emotions.”
Cole sits down.
“Antonio’s eyes. Got it.”
“And his hair,” I continue , pouring milk into a glass. “You think it’s just wavy? No. Absolutely not. It has its own personality.”
I put toast and milk in front of Noah and then, very matter-of-factly, place a small bowl of oatmeal and a spoon next to the toast plate. He doesn’t even blink. I sit down across from Cole and bite into a cinnamon roll.
“Feeling smitten, Hilfiger?”
“Very smitten. I’m going to marry him. If he’ll have me.”
Noah looks at Cole, a picture of sunny charm now that he’s eaten.
“Can I have more porridge, please?”
After Noah’s done with breakfast, Cole promises him fifteen minutes of cartoons.
“Have you seen Xaden?” I ask as soon as Noah has run to the living room.
Cole’s already blushing.
“On the beach.” He gives me a shy smile. “We flirted.”
“Really? Actual flirting or your version, which would be showing him a sliver of your bare wrist?”
Cole flips me off, but only after checking that Noah doesn’t see.
“Very funny. I told him I think he’s hot.”
He looks proud for a moment, but then he frowns, eyes flicking toward the window.
“Have you seen Willard lately?”
The topic change gives me a bit of whiplash.
Willard is Baywood’s sheriff, an obnoxious, power-hungry man.
“No, I haven’t. Why?”
