He takes a bite of cookie. Chews. Freezes. There’s a sidelong glare at me.
“Very… salty, bud,” he mumbles.
“Like the ocean!” Jonah says, satisfied. “These are for camp snack tomorrow.”
I get down on one knee so I’m at Jonah’s level. “Hey. Would you be okay with me making another batch with a little less salt, just in case some people like the regular flavor, and not the fancy salted one?”
He thinks about it. “Okay. That’s a good idea. This is gonna be the best camp snack ever.”
“That’s right. Ready to knock their socks off?” I ask.
“Hell yeah!”
I lift an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
He has the grace to look abashed. “Heck, yeah, I mean.” He looks up at me with puppy dog eyes. “But Dad says bad words all the time.”
My eyes meet Walker’s. His lips almost twitch.
I fold my arms. “Maybe we ought to help your Daddy work on his manners too.”
Walker’s gaze floats lazily down my body and back up again. “My manners are just fine, darlin.’”
“Mm.” I turn back to the counter and start measuring out the chocolate chips. “That’s a matter of opinion.”
I hear him take a slow step closer. Not close enough to be inappropriate, but close enough that I'm suddenly very aware of him standing behind me.
“Words ain’t bad or good,” he murmurs. “It’s how you use ‘em.”
I keep my eyes on the flour.
Walker Rhodes is one of the most talented songwriters to walk the earth at this moment. If anyone knows a thing or two about how to use words, it’s him.
Unfortunately for me, he seems good at weaponizing them against me. Along with that sexy, low drawl he says them in.
“Can I go play outside now?” Jonah says.
“You do your reading homework with Sadie?” Walker asks.
Jonah nods. “Yep! Ask her, it’s true.”
“It’s true,” I confirm, busying myself with measuring out the brown sugar.
“All right then,” Walker says.
Jonah scampers out the back door to the playground equipment out back. Walker leans his back against the counter next to me and watches me stir the baking soda into the flour and sugar mixture.
“Easy on the salt, darlin’,” he says, eyes glinting.
“I turn my back foronesecond...”
His lips almost quirk again. “That’s how they get ya. Always in those split seconds.”
“Hmph.” I add salt. A tiny pinch this time. “Suppose you speak from experience.”
“Unfortunately. Turn around and boom, he’s throwing a rock right into the window ‘on accident.’ I look away for another second, and he vanishes at the county fair. Damn near gave me a heart attack that day.”
I smile despite myself. “Sounds like he’s given you a run for your money.”
