Finn returned to the sound of Lucy’s giggle—and slowed his pace. He’d barely been gone two minutes, still riding the nerves of leaving his daughter alone with a woman he’d known for all of five sideways conversations and one Sunday lunch.
But that laughter? That soft, delighted sound?
It melted the tension from his shoulders faster than butter on a hot griddle.
And replaced the unease with something far less familiar. Something warm and treacherously appealing.
He didn’t know what to do with it.
Or, perhaps, somewhere deep inside he knewexactlywhat he wanted to do with it.
So, naturally, he told himself to ignore it.
He eased his way down the hall to the bathroom door and peeked inside.
Daphne knelt beside Lucy, dabbing gently at her face with a washcloth, murmuring something too soft to hear. Her golden hair was pulled into a ponytail, loose strands framing her face, and that absurdly domestic picture hit him straight in the gut.
“Okay, I bet you can’t guess this one,” she teased, then broke into a softly sung line.
“Dat one’s easy,” Lucy interrupted, beaming. “Sleeping Beauty.”
Daphne gasped dramatically. “You are so good at this game.”
Her voice held a kind of warmth Finn didn’t expect—light, sincere, steady. Like it had been there all along, waiting for someone to need it. For Lucy.
He rubbed absently at his chest, an ache growing in the space beneath his fingers. What was this?
“What’s the score?” Daphne asked.
“I have free and you only have one,” Lucy declared.
Daphne’s shoulders slumped in exaggerated defeat. “Then you should go easy on me next time.”
Lucy’s giggle sparkled again, and Finn let a grin slip. That laugh had always been his undoing. Since the first time he’d heard it, it had been a kind of magic. His favorite sound.
Lucy launched into the chorus of “Be Our Guest” and Daphne looked skyward, feigning deep thought, though Finn didn’t miss the telltale tip of a smile at her lips.
She knew it. Of course she did.
And he... could really like her.
Which was precisely the problem.
He wasn’t looking for something complicated. With strings. Risky.
He’d done that before. Twice. Once with his heart and once with his business. And each time he’d come out of it with more damage than he knew what to do with. He’d learned the hard way that love came with an expiration date, and he refused to risk Lucy’s heart—or his own—again. His job was to protect her, not rewrite some fairy tale for himself.
He knew how these stories ended.
So he shoved the rising knot of hope down deep and leaned into the easier thing: a casual spark. Harmless flirtation. Nothing that threatened to become more.
“Beauty and the Beast,” Finn said, stepping into the room.
Daphne’s gaze shot to his, her smile still warm on her face, and then with a look back at Lucy, she unfolded from her position and stood, handing him the washcloth. “She’s very good at this game.” She tossed a one-shouldered shrug. “I suppose I need to catch up on my princess songs.”
Then with the slightest smile, she slid past him into the hallway, those blue eyes of hers flicking to his as she passed. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need something.”
And then she was gone, the faint scent of cinnamon trailing in her wake.
