Dani made a strangled noise and yanked the blanket up to her chin. Her cheeks flushed for reasons Carolina couldn’t possibly guess. “Hi, Carolina.”
If my daughter thought it was odd that one of her dad’s coworkers—the “pretty lady with the good snacks”—was sitting in his bed first thing in the morning, she didn’t show it. Instead, she darted across the room like a bullet, dropping her backpack with a thud.
“Daddy, can we make pancakes? The lemon-blueberry ones, like last time?”
Over her head, Dani’s eyes found mine.
Blueberry pancakes.Jesus.
I bit back a laugh.
“Sure, cutie,” I said, ruffling Carolina’s curls. “We can do that.”
A polite throat-clearing in the hallway had me freezing in place.Allie.My ex-wife leaned against the doorframe, keys dangling from her hand, her gaze flicking from me—shirtless, half-hard under my jeans—to the woman hiding under my comforter.
Her brows arched. She didn’t look mad, more amused than anything, actually. Which was somehow worse.
“Well,” she said lightly. “This is . . . new.”
“Allie—” I started, but Carolina was already bouncing in place, tugging at Dani’s hand.
“Dani, you have to help us. Daddy always burns the first batch.”
Dani’s nervous laugh cracked, and I could see the panic flaring in her eyes. She didn’t know whether to stay or run.
I stepped in quickly, squeezing Carolina’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go pull the stuff out of the pantry? We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Okay!”
Carolina skipped out, humming happily, backpack abandoned. The second she was out of earshot, Allie’s arms crossed over her front.
I exhaled, raking a hand through my hair. “Can we, um, step outside for a sec?”
“Uh-huh.”
Allie didn’t move right away. Her gaze flicked from me back to Dani, whose knuckles were white against the comforter bunched at her collarbone. Then, to my absolute horror, Allie smiled. Not the sweet, beaming smile I remembered from the early days of our marriage, but something sly and knowing.
“I guess I should at least say hello before I get dragged into whatever this is.” She stepped closer, extending her hand toward the bed. “I’m Allie. Carolina’s mom. And you are . . . ?”
Dani’s eyes widened like she wanted the mattress to swallow her whole. Nonetheless, she lifted a hand free of the blanket and shook Allie’s, her cheeks redder than the Roasters’ jerseys. “Dani Bernal, social media manager for the Roasters.”
Allie shot me a look. “And you said you would never date a coworker,” she teased.
Blood roared in my ears. “Allie—”
She lifted her caramel-colored hand, cutting me off with that same amused calm. “Relax, B. I’m not here to give you grief. Just . . . surprised.” Her mouth twitched, fighting back a smile as she flicked her gaze between us again. “Walk me to my car.”
Dani made another small, strangled sound, and I shot her an apologetic smile. Then, with one last suspiciously friendly glance in Dani’s direction, Allie turned on her heel and headed for the stairs. I followed her out, pulling the door gently closed behind me, heart still hammering.
Allie’s boots clicked softly on the stairs as we made our way down, her silence somehow heavier than words. I trailed just behind her, my pulse still thundering. Carolina’s chatter carried faintly from the kitchen—drawers opening and shutting, the thud of a chair dragging across the tile.
Allie pushed open the front door, stepping onto the porch like she needed fresh air just to process. Her car sat at the edge of the driveway, still idling. She leaned against the porch railing, arms crossed, watching me with that same bemused, sharp-eyed look she’d had upstairs.
“You know,” she said finally, “when I suggested you get back out there, I didn’t expect—” She gestured vaguely toward the upstairs window. “That.”
I blew out a slow breath, bracing one hand on the porch post. “I know. And trust me,thatisn’t what you think it is.”
“Really?” Her eyebrow lifted, tone somewhere between skeptical and curious. “That wasn’t your daughter walking in on you and a woman, naked in your bed?”
