April gave a small bow. Yes, it was perfect.
Ethan joined in on the clapping. “She’s a natural.”
“How many viewers?” April asked, hoping it wasn’t only ten.
“It’s a big number,” Rachel said, a huge smile pinned to her lips. She held her phone so April could see.
Holy fake mac and cheese, the number wasn’t big. “Huge” and “enormous” were better words.
April’s rib cage expanded, puffed up with pride. Dear goodness, she’d done it. No one peed. No one cussed. No one yelled. She’d actually done it.
With Ethan.
Ethan, who had agreed to cowrite a relaxing, Calm Kids cookbook with her.
Jack was right. Of course he was.Practical Parentinghad nothing on her. She felt like she could do anything.
Presently, she helped clean up the mess. Before, when the camera was on and the sweet potato was no good inside, she and Ethan had rolled with it. But she’d been the one to take the lead because she had the spare in her produce basket. They’d laughed off the gaff like it wasn’t a big deal. Rolled with it.
Here she was, rolling along without a need for training wheels. She hadn’t even had to look at Jack for reassurance the entire time. She’d focused on Ethan. And the food. And the viewers.
She’d been…calm.
Good luck trying to wipe the perma-grin from her face over the next few days until thePractical Parentingappearance.
With his own happiness etched on his face, Ethan held his hand out to her.
She shook it.
“April, it’s been a pleasure.” He released her grip, then moved to clean up. Which absolutely got him bonus April points—of course, those meant nothing but were not easily earned. “We can cook together anytime.”
Coming from a chef of his magnitude, that was the best compliment he could’ve given. Wasn’t this day just the best ever?
Nothing was going to ruin her buzz.
Jack’s cell vibrated. He glowered at it. “Give me a minute.”
While Jack left to fix the world, April helped Ethan with cleanup, their easy rapport marching along even now that the cameras had stopped rolling.
“Jack’s trying to get you to do a philanthropic project, too?” He chuckled. “Maybe we team up and give him a two-for-one?”
“That would be—” April swallowed, tamping down her excitement because Ethan Greene wanted to team up. And not just because Jack told him to. “Great.”
“April,” Kitty called. The front door slammed. “We need to have words.”
April squeezed the slotted spoon in her hand so tightly, she thought it’d break. “I am so sorry.”
Rachel was already moving toward the front door. April knew anything she tried was futile. Kitty was a force of her own.
“What are you sorry about?” Ethan asked, confusion clear in his tone and sketched right across his face.
April dropped the spoon into the sink, the metal clanking as it hit the ceramic. “My friend.”
Kitty stormed into the kitchen with as much drama as only Kitty could produce. Generally, that drama was directed at the juice box choices in the pantry or soap theft. Today, not so much.
Though she seemed pissed, she’d clearly dressed to impress—the feathers were clipped in her hair, her jeans painted on, and her shirt so low-cut, April was pretty sure if she looked closely enough, she’d catch a glimpse of nipple. She did not look closer. Best not to know some things.
She couldn’t speak for Ethan, though, and how closely he looked.
