Chapter 19
NINETEEN
SAVANNA
Dalton is absolutely captivating in my kitchen right now, with my Kiss the Chef apron tied across his broad chest and a dish rag slung over his muscular shoulder like he’s Gordon freaking Ramsey.
Oh. God, I think I’m drooling.
Sitting back in my barstool, I sip a glass of wine, savoring the fact that I don’t have to cook for anyone tonight.
Because Dalton is cooking for me.
Across from me, Drew sits propped up on the counter next to Dalton at the sink as she hands him vegetables to wash for the grilled fish recipe he’s making with Drew’s prized catch.
My heart flutters in my chest when my eyes snag on Dalton’s wrist and the Roman numerals tattoo he’d gotten to remember the night we shared six years ago.
He got it to remember me.
My body fills with heat as my eyes linger on it.
“Alright, Drew, now what do you know about knife safety?” Dalton asks, raising an eyebrow.
My eyes snap up from Dalton’s wrist when his voice brings me back into focus.
Drew’s eyes widen at me from across the counter. “Well, my mommy tells me not to touch them,” she says hesitantly.
“Smart girl,” Dalton chuckles, shooting me a wink.
My cheeks heat as I bring the glass to my lips. Over the rim, I study them side by side. The more time Dalton and Drew spend together, the harder it is to ignore the similarities between the two.
They look uncanny.
Heaviness sits in my chest.
“I’ve used a butterknife before,” Drew says, tipping up her chin.
“Well, that’s a start, but we need something a little sharper if we’re going to cut through the lemon and zucchinis.”
Dalton moves the produce from the colander to the butcher block island. Without hesitation, he picks Drew up from where she was sitting by the sink and plops her down beside him.
“Okay. Rule number one. Never touch the blade.” Dalton warns, gesturing to the butcher knife he’s holding. “I don’t think your mom would like me too much if you chopped off a finger.”
“Dalton!” I gasp, my mouth falling open.
Drew slaps her hand over her mouth and giggles. “I like my fingers!”
“I bet you do,” he laughs. “Now, always have a firm grip on the handle.”
Dalton places a lemon on a cutting board and slices it slowly. Drew watches mesmerized as the knife sinks slowly into the peel and the smell of citrus fills the kitchen.
“Now you try.” Dalton takes Drew’s hand in his gently, and together they cut the lemon. Once they finish, Dalton lays the slices on top of the fish that’s resting on the sheet pan beside them.
“I did it!” Drew squeals, puffing out her chest, giving me a wide grin.
Dalton bumps his fist to hers. “You sure did.”
“Wow, good job, Drew.” I beam back at her.
Dalton grabs the zucchini and places them in front of Drew. “Think you can handle helping with these ones, too?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
“Yes!”
“That’s my girl!” Dalton says, nudging her with a playful grin.
My hand stills from where I’m twisting my wineglass. Dalton’s words cause my breath to hitch.
My girl.
Dalton places his hand over Drew’s again as they begin chopping the zucchini. Once finished, he places it on the pan with the fish and lemons. He grabs the olive oil and hands it to Drew. She giggles as she drizzles the oil around the pan.
“Absolute perfection, Drew,” Dalton says, bringing his fingers to his lips and kissing them in a chef’s kiss. He slides the pan into the oven, sets the timer, and turns back to me.
Dalton frowns when he notices my wineglass is empty. Leaning across the island, he reaches for my glass and refills it.
“I figured you could use a little more wine,” he says, giving me a mischievous wink.
Biting my lip, my gaze lingers on the veins bulging in his forearm as he grips the stem tightly. His fingers curl.
“You would assume correctly,” I say, wetting my lips.
Topping it off, Dalton slides it my way with a smirk. “Were you staring at something, Sav?”
“Nope,” I say, giving him a pinched smile, clenching my thighs together. “I just didn’t know you were such a professional in the kitchen.”
Dalton’s eyes turn molten. “Trust me, Savanna, I’m not a professional.” His gaze rakes over me. “Not one bit.”
My stomach swoops as I bring the wineglass to my lips. The heat in our eyes crackles between us as I sip the rich red blend, letting it slide down my throat. I lick the blackberry and mocha from my lips, and Dalton’s gaze lingers there, as if he’s imagining kissing me.
Drew hops down from the counter and stands next to Dalton. “I know what I wish for.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dalton tilts his head, breaking our gaze. “And what’s that wish, Miss Drew?”
“I wish that after dinner, you would stay and watch a movie with us.”
I choke on the wine as a heated flush spreads through me.
Good Lord, this child is not making it easy for me.
She clearly enjoys putting Dalton and me in compromising positions. Dalton glances at me, waiting for my cue. I let out a sigh and nod.
He turns toward Drew, beaming. “Wish granted!”
Drew squeals, jumping into Dalton’s arms to wrap him in a hug. “Let’s watch Finding Nemo!”
Dalton’s face lights up as he pulls back to look at her. “Sticking to the theme today, Drew. Solid choice,” he says, giving her a fist bump, while shooting a wink at me from over his shoulder.
We’re snuggled on my old linen couch, the three of us squished together.
I would’ve expected at least a flicker of awkwardness from Drew—some sign of discomfort from having a man in our space, but she seems to be loving every second of Dalton’s presence.
All his masculine energy in our otherwise soft, feminine space has her completely enchanted.
Maybe it’s the colorful sleeve of tattoos—maybe it’s just him.
And suddenly, guilt settles in my chest.
I always thought I could be enough to compensate for Drew not having her father in her life. But seeing her curled into Dalton’s side now, something in me cracks.
I’m not enough for Drew.
She needs us both.
And that thought scares the hell out of me.
Because how will I tell either one of them the truth?
Half my brain is lost in thought while the other half can’t focus on anything but Dalton’s muscular arm draped over the back of the couch. My senses spike as his fingertips brush my shoulder, twist my hair around his finger, gently giving it a tug every now and then.
Now, I’m on edge.
When the movie ends, I glance down at Drew, sleeping against Dalton’s chest. Her small hand is spread across his chest as if rooting him in place. I look up to find Dalton smiling at me with a knowing grin. I’ve never seen him so relaxed.
“What’s that look for?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Nothing. I just had a really good day with you girls, that’s all,” he says, bashful, tilting his head to hide the faint flush creeping across his cheeks—making my heart flutter.
Dalton looks ridiculously good with his arm slung around our daughter like this.
Yikes, Daddy looks good on him.
My cheeks flame, returning a soft smile. “I had a good day, too.” I dip my head down toward Drew. “I’m certain she did as well. Thanks for today, Dalton.”
His eyes bounce from me to Drew and back again before he lets out a sigh. “I really love this, Savanna—being here this week, reconnecting with you, getting to know Drew. It just doesn’t feel real. All I know is I really don’t want to fuck this up.”
My body still, eyes searching his, trying to grasp the meaning of his words.
Because what is this?
What are we doing?
He leaves in two weeks to go back to California, where he has a whole other life that I don’t know about.
Whatever this is—it isn't permanent.
Breaking his gaze, I look down at Drew nuzzled in the crevice of his arm and chest. “I’m going to put Drew to bed,” I whisper.
My heart stops when Dalton gives me a nod, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of Drew’s blonde locks.
My lips part when his eyes find mine again.
The last six years of hurt and confusion begin to unravel.
The last six years of protecting Drew from my mistakes and hiding her from the truth rise to the surface.
My heart is set on the belief that Dalton not coming back like he promised was a sign he would never want us.
But after this last week, something has shifted inside of me.
I think maybe he does want us.