Chapter 8
Annie
Day one had drained every ounce of energy from me.
But the moment I stepped into the house—greeted by the scent of something savory, the sight of a very attractive man in my kitchen, and my daughter’s smile stretching from ear to ear—it all melted away.
We sat together at the table, just the three of us, forks clinking against plates as we dug into the meal Brooks had made.
He’d claimed this morning he loved to cook, but he hadn’t warned me he was this good.
The chicken—smothered in a rich, red sauce that was equal parts tangy and comforting—had Ruby so enchanted she was now holding the plate to her face, licking it clean.
“Ruby!” I scolded, though the corners of my mouth betrayed me with a twitch. “Stop that.”
She lowered the plate slowly, grinning wide, her chin, cheeks, and hands all wearing that same deep red sauce like war paint. Her shirt didn’t fare much better.
Bath time was definitely happening tonight.
“Good, huh, kiddo?” Brooks asked, his tone warm as he speared another bite.
“Delicious! Mommy doesn’t cook like this.”
I froze mid-bite, my jaw dropping in mock outrage. “Excuse me? You monster.”
Her giggle was immediate, but she bit her lip in an attempt to look innocent.
I stood.
“Oh, you’d better take that back,” I warned, inching toward her with exaggerated slowness.
She shook her head no, her laughter bubbling just beneath the surface until I pounced, hands going to her sides in a full-blown tickle attack. Ruby shrieked with delight, wiggling in her chair, trying to escape.
I kissed her round cheek with an obnoxiously loud smooch before confiscating her plate. “Guess Brooks will just have to cook every night,” I said, shooting him a playful wink over my shoulder.
“Deal,” he replied smoothly, his smile curling with something that made my stomach flip. “That’s not a punishment for me.”
It took every bit of restraint not to blurt the thought in my head—something about him punishing me.
The image of him shirtless from this morning, golden skin stretched over those muscles, had already made concentrating nearly impossible. And now? With this home-cooked meal sealing the deal? Having him here felt far more dangerous than I’d anticipated.
He’d been here a day and yet things felt like they’d been happening for months. He felt like the missing piece to our little puzzle.
“I need to put on a fashion show for you!” Ruby announced, hopping down from her chair.
“Wait!” I called after her, holding up a finger. “Hands and face first, missy.”
Ruby rolled her eyes but obeyed, snatching the damp paper towel I held out and scrubbing her mouth and hands with all the dramatics of a Broadway star before tossing it into the trash.
“But you need to sit down,” she ordered before darting down the hallway.
I sank back into my chair beside Brooks with a sigh.
“It’s a pretty lengthy show,” he murmured from the corner of his mouth, leaning closer until his breath brushed my cheek. “We spent most of the day at that boutique she loves.”
I turned my head, finding his eyes inches from mine. “The Jolly Closet?”
He smirked. “Is that what it’s called? Then yes.”
“But… how did she buy things from The Jolly Closet? I didn’t give her any money.”
Before he could answer, Ruby reappeared, head high, hips swaying in perfect little-girl confidence. She marched past us, spun at the end of the hall, and grinned wide enough to light the room.
“Whoa! Look at that sparkly tutu!” I cheered.
“Do another spin,” Brooks encouraged.
“Yellow’s my new favorite color, Mom!” she declared mid-twirl.
“Oh, is it?” I asked, laughing.
“Mhm. Can we paint my room?”
“Maybe after the holidays,” I said, knowing full well her “favorite color” would change by next week.
On her way out of the room, Ruby jumped into the air and spun, landing on both feet. Without missing a beat, she took off running down the hall toward her room, her giggles trailing behind her like sleigh bells.
I turned back toward Brooks, ready to address the burning question still hanging between us, and found him already leaning back in his chair—lounging like he didn’t have a care in the world.
His arms were stretched behind his head, muscles flexing beneath the snug sleeves of his T-shirt.
The fabric bunched around his biceps, making it far too easy to notice how solid he was.
There was no way a rodeo clown had arms and a body like that.
“How did she get the money?” I demanded, arching a brow.
Without so much as flinching, he said, “Santa dropped it off this morning. Take it up with him.”
My eyes narrowed into a glare sharp enough to cut glass. I was determined to get an answer, but Brooks only ran his tongue slowly along his canine tooth before giving me that infuriatingly cocky smirk and then he topped it off with a wink.
Oh, for the love of Christmas cookies.
Fuck. Me.
“Did you give it to her?” I hissed under my breath.
It wasn’t his job to be buying Ruby clothes. I was the one paying him to be here. There was no reason for him to go and drop enough cash for her to put on an entire fashion show, complete with multiple wardrobe changes.
Before he could answer, Ruby reappeared, darting into the dining room in her second outfit. She was like a tiny quick-change artist, her energy buzzing in every movement.
“This conversation is not over,” I warned Brooks in a low voice before turning in my chair to give my daughter my full attention. There was no way I’d manage to interrogate him while also trying to keep up with her excitement.
“What do you think?” Ruby asked, grabbing handfuls of her tulle skirt and swishing side to side like a pro.
My smile softened. “This will be perfect for the Christmas party.”
The skirt was bright red tulle with a matching sequin jacket—festive, sparkly, and absolutely made for twirling.
It screamed Christmas in the best possible way.
I could already picture her in it at the party I was catering.
When the trays were empty and my work was done, I planned to change out of my catering clothes, grab Ruby, and join the guests.
Brooks, too, if he wanted to come. Ruby would need something special to wear, and this? This was perfect.
“You think?” Her whole face lit up, eyes shimmering like a string of holiday lights. “Do you think Santa would like it?”
“Are you kidding me?” Brooks chimed in before I could answer. “I bet he’d let you waltz right into the North Pole wearing that.”
Ruby’s smile grew so big it looked like her cheeks might burst. She glanced down at herself, smoothing her skirt with an almost shy pride that made my chest ache.
She hadn’t smiled this much in so long.
She bounded past me toward Brooks, hand held high for a high five.
It was almost comical watching it happen. Her tiny palm pressed to his much larger one, her whole arm swallowed by his in comparison. For a second, I just watched them, the sight tugging something deep inside me.
The man who was supposed to be here simply as help—just for two weeks, just to get me through the busiest time of year—was already slipping into a role I hadn’t expected. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.