“My name is Louise, but everyone calls me Lou,” I tell her, sticking out my hand for her to shake. She does, giggling, before I turn to the middle aged one on my other side and do the same. “What is your name?”
“I’m Bailey, and this is Chloe. Abigail is our big sister, but she’s in her bedroom upstairs. She doesn’t like to come out very much anymore, since Mom left,” Bailey says, pointing toward the staircase that leads to a loft that looks identical to mine. “Abigail gets her own room because she’s the oldest. Our bedroom is upstairs, too. We have to share, and we have bunk beds. Do you have bunk beds in your house?”
“Uhh, no,” I laugh, shaking my head. “I live by myself, so no need for bunk beds.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Bailey asks, looking up at me as she leans on the counter with her forearms.
Laughing again, I stammer, “Uhh, no. I do not.”
Their dad exits the bedroom down the hall, fresh t-shirt in place, and I hate to admit that I’d have very much liked to see him without a shirt again.
“Dad, we found out her name! And she lives by herself, and she doesn’t have a boyfriend!” Chloe calls from beside me when she sees him, and I blush hotly as he comes toward us, stopping on the other side of the counter. Ohmygod this is embarrassing.
He braces his hands on the edge of the counter and leans on them, the muscles in his forearms and biceps bulging and shifting with the movement.
Hoping to avoid the awkward topic of my relationship status, I stick my hand out over the expanse of counter that stretches between us. I wait until he takes my hand in his own, heat and electricity zapping straight through me, before I murmur, “Umm, I’m Louise Miller.”
“But everyone calls her Lou,” Bailey adds in helpfully from next to me, and I can’t help but grin again.
“Lou?” he asks, dark brows raising slightly. I’m grateful he’s ignoring the other part of the information dump his daughters had just given him. I think I might die if he mentions it.
So, I nod. Honestly, I can’t concentrate on anything other than the warmth of his hand wrapping around mine. He hasn’t let go, and I haven’t either. I don’t think I want to.
There’s a fine-line, black and gray floral tattoo sleeve that covers the entirety of his right arm, from wrist all the way up his arm. It must go clear to his shoulder, because it extends up beneath the short sleeve of the t-shirt he has on. It’s stunning and delicate in design, but it somehow doesn’t diminish the pure masculine energy that radiates off of him. It’s hot as fuck.
“Zach Macomb.”
Zach. God, of course he would have a hot name, too.
“Hi, Zach,” I somehow manage to whisper. I let the feel of his name roll around on my tongue. I like it. It fits him. “Nice to finally know all of your names.”
After what feels like a small eternity, he relinquishes his grip on my hand and resumes his stance of bracing himself against the counter edge, his gaze panning from one little blonde on my right to the other on my left. They both giggle. The sound is so carefree, and it’s easy to see that they’re happy and thriving here with him. Like he’s their safe place. I love that.
“I’m shocked this cake isn’t half gone already,” he deadpans, winking at both girls. Shit.My ovaries.
“We were waiting for you, silly,” Chloe crows, giggling again. She hops down off the barstool and races to the foot of the staircase, shouting up them, “Abigail! Time for cake!”
“I don’t want any,” comes a muffled response. Chloe’s shoulders sag slightly.
“But—”
“Chlo,” Zach interjects, notching his chin to bring her attention back to us. “She’ll get some later. We’ll make sure she has some when we do gifts this afternoon.”
“Okay…” Chloe mumbles, backing away from the door to rejoin us at the counter.
“Dad, did you remember candles?” Bailey asks from beside me, and I raise my eyes to his in time to see the flash of panic in them.
I can’t help but laugh, and his dark brows pull low over his eyes as he glares at me.Sogrumpy.
Sticking my left hand into the pocket of my jacket, I pull out a small package of pink glitter birthday candles and hand them over to him. He shakes his head ruefully, his lips pulling into a line, as if trying hard not to smile.
“I’m not usually this bad at the whole dad thing,” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, and I grin.
“It happens to the best,” I say gently as he pries the candle package open. Sticking six of the glittery candles into the top of the cake, he produces a lighter from one of the drawers in front of him. “I am warning you all, I may dress up as a princess, but I wasnotgifted with a princess’s singing voice. I apologize in advance.”
“Oh, Dad can’t sing either, but he does in the shower a lot anyway,” Bailey pipes in from beside me, and the glare he sends her way makes me roll my lips in between my teeth to keep from laughing out loud. This poor man. These girls are brutal in their innocent honesty. I love it. Well, except when they’re announcing that I don’t have a boyfriend to their stupidly hot dad.
“Yeah? Shower concerts are the best,” I tease, grinning over at him. He rolls his eyes, his face splitting in a smirk. “My sisters used to hide the Bluetooth speaker from me if they knew I was headed to the shower.”
