I stand, offering my hand to her to help her to her feet, which she stares at for a long time before putting her hand in mine. The softness of her hand, the warmth, tingles all the way up my arm.
Well shit.
She straightens and places her bag over her shoulder, peering at me, then at each of the girls in turn. Shoving my hands in my front pockets and doing my best to hide the fact that I’m sporting a chubby behind the fly of my jeans, I roll my shoulders in and mumble, “It’s Chloe’s birthday tomorrow and their mom—” I stop, glancing down at my littlest blonde, before turning my attention back toMiss Disney Fucking Princess, “—she’s not going to make it for her birthday like she’d said. I made the promise that I would bake a cake, but I forgot about vegetable oil. You wouldn’t by chance have a cup of oil I can borrow?”
A dimple in each cheek appears when she smiles, making her look impossibly younger. She ducks down in front of Chloeand winks, earning a timid smile from my youngest. “I’ve got something better than vegetable oil. Come with me.”
Holding her hand out to Chloe, I watch as my normally shy almost six-year-old places her hand in this stranger’s and follows her inside the cabin. I glance down at Bailey, then back at Abigail, who just stands on the stone pathway with her arms crossed over her chest. Bailey rushes inside, so I follow, too.
All the A-Frame cabins on property seem to be designed the same from the outside, and stepping inside, it’s clear that I was correct in that assumption. This one is much smaller than ours next door, but the floor plan and interior design appear to be almost identical. Beige carpet in the living room that’s the same color as ours, the same faux wood flooring in the small entryway and kitchen. Wooden stairway that leads to an open loft, which I’d guess is where the only bedroom in the place is. Bathroom and closet sized laundry room down the minuscule hallway. Same light countertops in the kitchen, all the same appliances. Everything has that ‘landlord special’ feel to it.
It was the best I could find—and afford on my own—after Britt left. So, we make do. It also doesn’t hurt that the rent is cheap, and I’ve been stashing into my savings for a year like a fiend. Eventually… when the time is right, I’ll use it as a downpayment on something bigger. But, for now, it works for us.
Princess’s cabin is still surprisingly bare; boxes stacked in one corner as tall as she is, a random coffee cup and a lonely coffee maker the only items out on her counter.
Looking around, I suddenly doubt this little thing even has groceries yet, let alone fucking vegetable oil.
Stopping at the refrigerator, she opens it, then pulls out a small Tupperware container with a domed top. She turns and sets it on the counter, then carefully removes the lid. Inside sits a small, frosted cake with tiny pink flowers piped all over it. Chloe and Bailey ooh and ahh over the pretty cake. I glance aroundand see Abigail lurking in the entrance of the kitchen, just out of sight.
“I don’t actually have any oil,” she says sheepishly, but then smiles brightly. “However, my birthday happened to have been yesterday, and I haven’t even had the chance to share this cake with anyone yet. My sister made it for me,” she rattles on, showing it to the girls, then glances up at me through those impossibly thick lashes. “And she makesthe bestdesserts. I have to work all afternoon and into the evening, but this cake deserves to be enjoyed.”
Snapping the lid back shut, she offers it to me with outstretched hands, and I shake my head. “We can’t take your birthday cake. I can run to the store to get oil.”
“I insist,” Princess says earnestly, shoving the cake at me. She nods slightly toward the girls, who are staring at us wide eyed. “I know how much it sucks to have a parent miss a birthday. Please, this is the least I can do since I don’t have any oil. I just moved in and haven’t gone shopping yet.”
Shit. Now I feel like a prick. Taking her damn birthday cake away from her.
“Oh please, Dad!” Chloe begs, glancing between me and the cake, which is still held aloft in Princess’ hands. “It’s so pretty!”
“Yeah, Dad, it’sso pretty! And I’m sure it would taste better than yours!” eight-year-old Bailey crows, and I very seriously consider smothering her with a pillow. Princess smiles knowingly up at me and winks again. That wink makes my mind go blank for just a second.
“I’ll accept this on one condition; you have to come over and share it with us,” I hear myself say while my brain isn’t functioning properly.
What the fuck? Sure, why not. I’ll take ‘Bad Idea’s for 1,000, Alex’.
“Ooooh yeah!” Chloe pleads, turning those big blue eyes that I’m fucking powerless against on the woman. “Please come eat cake with us!”
She smiles and leans down to say gently, “I would love to. But I work tonight, and I’m not even sure what time I’ll get home.”
“How about tomorrow?” Bailey asks, taking hold of Chloe’s shoulders, urging her to the front. Little con artists at work.
“I wouldn’t want to impose on Miss Chloe’s special birthday,” she says softly, though she glances at me again from under those lashes.
“It’s no imposition,” I hear myself say.
She nods slowly, one side of her mouth tilting up just the slightest, and when she does, a little dimple appears at the corner of her mouth. It’s quite possibly the cutest and most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. I want to put my tongue there.
Oh hell. Please say no.
I’ve never had much luck, though, so of course she shrugs and says a simple, “Okay. Sure.”
She extends her hands again, holding the cake out to me. Reaching out, I take it from her, our fingers brushing on the underside of the Tupperware container. I resolutely ignore the flash of electricity that zings up my arm at the contact.
We all trudge back toward the front door, and I’m not at all surprised to find Abigail already outside, arms crossed and eyes shooting lasers at myself and the new neighbor.Oh boy.Bailey and Chloe race ahead, running in circles in the lawn that stretches between the two cabins as she pulls the door closed behind us all as we exit. I juggle the cake in my left hand as I turn toward her.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my voice coming out gruffer than I intend. I clear my throat and hold up the cake. “I hate that you’re giving your birthday cake away.”
Princess smiles up at me again, then shrugs her shoulders. “It’s no big deal. I told my sister no cake this year, but as you can see, she didn’t listen. I’d hate to see it go to waste. And if it makes a little girl not so sad on her birthday, I’m happy to share.”
