38. Jake
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
jake
I’d stayed over in the guest house every night since the thunderstorm.
Whitley had gotten so used to seeing me that she started asking her mom where I was when I wasn’t in the kitchen in the mornings.
For selfish reasons, I was ready for them to just move into the main house with me.
Caitlin loved the guest house, though, and with Adam’s threats hanging over us, we didn’t want to move too fast. At least not until everything had started to blow over and go back to normal.
With the regular rodeo season having drawn to a close, I was able to spend much more time with my girls. But on the days I wasn’t around as much because I was helping Colter out at the ranch, I’d left notes for Caitlin to find.
This morning, when I snuck out, I stuck a sticky note with the words, You’re more than enough, on her bathroom mirror along with another one that said breakfast was in the fridge and just needed to be reheated.
The other day, I’d left a bouquet of white roses in her driver’s seat with the note: Saw these and thought they were just as beautiful as you.
Sometimes I’d catch a glimpse of her reading the notes, a smile playing on her lips. When she’d notice me watching, she’d try to hide it, but the proof was right there. Knowing I made Caitlin even a fraction as happy as she made me filled my chest with warmth.
Adam trying to drive a wedge between us had created a new fear that loomed over Caitlin, and my ultimate goal was to continue reminding her of the woman and mother she was.
If anything came of Adam’s threats, we’d address it, but in my eyes—and likely the eyes of the law, too—he had no limb to stand on when it came to the care of Whitley.
Caitlin was and always would be the best option.
Tonight, we were taking a stab at making homemade pizza.
Cooking was one of the hobbies Caitlin was going to try.
She was already good at baking—and cooking, too, if you asked me—but she’d never made homemade pizza with Whitley before.
Ever since we made the pillow fort, Whitley had been asking me to play or help her with things, so it only seemed right we included her in the hobby hunting.
“Here, Whit.” I pulled over a step stool so she could help at the counter, or at least see better without one of us having to hold her up.
“Yay, pizza!” She dragged out the end of the word, sticking out her tongue.
“Not just any pizza. Homemade pizza. Everything is better when it’s homemade.” I winked.
“Even chicken nuggets? Can we make them homemade?”
Caitlin suppressed a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand, looking at me like she was trying to ask how I was going to work my way out of this one.
“Well…” I hesitated, weighing my next words carefully. “Maybe not chicken nuggets. Your dino nuggets are frozen, and those are pretty good.”
“Dinosaurs are my favorite.” She nodded enthusiastically before patting her hands on the counter. Not even five seconds later, she whipped her head toward me, eyes widening and mouth gaped in an O shape. “Can we make the pizza dinosaur shaped?”
I ruffled the top of her head. “Sure, bug. What flavor of pizza do you like?”
“Cheese!” She paired the squeal with a massive toothy grin. “And pepperoni!”
Caitlin pulled a large bowl out of the cabinet and set it on the counter. “Do you want to help me make the dough?”
Whitley nodded, then Caitlin grabbed a bag of flour, sugar, salt and yeast.
“We’re going to pour the flour in this bowl then add the other dry ingredients, okay?”
Whitley reached for the container of salt and was about to pour it in, but I stopped her.
“Whoa there. We have to measure it so we have the right amount. Otherwise it won’t taste like pizza,” I explained. “Here, let me help.”
I measured out the correct amount of flour then guided her hands to pour it into the bowl. We repeated this until we had all the dry ingredients. Then Caitlin came in with the water and olive oil.
“Now, we have to stir it. Think you can handle that, bug?” Caitlin asked, handing her a wooden spoon.
At first, Whitley started stirring the mixture too aggressively, and a little bit of flour came out of the bowl, but she got the hang of it after we helped her, and soon our dough was mixed to the right shaggy consistency.
I kneaded the dough, then we covered the bowl with plastic wrap so it could sit on the counter and rise.
“What now?” Whitley asked, cocking her head to the side.
“Hmm…” Caitlin tapped her lips. “How about chocolate chip cookies?”
A squeal of delight flew from Whitley’s lips, and she started bouncing up and down excitedly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I chuckled, warmth filling my chest. This was the kind of thing I wanted to do every day for the rest of my life. I could die a happy man knowing my girls were safe and having fun.
The three of us worked in tandem to make the cookies.
Well, at least Caitlin and I worked in tandem, one of us always helping Whitley with whatever task she wanted to help with.
I showed her how to crack eggs into the bowl, and even though we ended up with a few eggs on the floor and some smashed shells, the important ones made it into the dough.
Caitlin helped her mix in the chocolate chips—although I was confident half the bag made it into Whitley’s mouth instead—and we both helped scoop the cookie dough out onto the baking sheet.
By the time the oven had preheated and our first batch of cookies was out of the oven, we were ready to start shaping our pizza dough and add the toppings. The oven temperature needed to be turned up, so we decided to bake the rest of the cookies later.
“I want mine to look like a dinosaur!” Whitley mimicked a T-Rex roar, tucking her arms into her body like a dinosaur.
A bright laugh bubbled out of Caitlin, and I stole a glance at her. Her eyes shone with pride, and a smile played on her lips. I was still staring when she turned her head toward me. Her brows rose as though asking me what I was looking at, but all I did was shoot her a wink.
“Mommy, can I make it into a dinosaur?”
“Sure, maybe Jake can help you with that,” Caitlin teased.
I wasn’t a sculptor or an artist by any means, but I could at least try. “Come on, bug, let’s go over to the kitchen table so we have more space.” I lifted her off the ground from her armpits and tucked her close against my body, walking us over to the table.
Caitlin followed with a ball of dough and some flour to sprinkle under it.
Rolling my lips, I tried to imagine what a pizza dinosaur would look like.
“What kind of dinosaur do you want?” I asked, wanting to make sure I had the right one before I started.
“T-Rex!” she shouted.
“Shh.” I laughed. “Inside voices, yeah?”
She giggled then nodded. “I want to make mine a T-Rex.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
With a little trial and error, I managed to shape the dough into a dinosaur-looking shape. I couldn’t promise it would look good once it was cooked, but it didn’t look like a blob.
“How’s it going over there, darlin’?” I looked over my shoulder at Caitlin.
She threw me a thumbs-up. “It’s good! How’s the dino-shaping?”
“It looks perfect, if you ask me,” I said.
Whitley piped up, adding, “I love it, Mommy!”
“Are we ready to add some toppings, then?” she asked, bringing over a couple pizza pans with personal-sized pizza dough spread out on them. She also grabbed the toppings we’d bought from the store: pepperoni, bacon bits, sausage, olives, tomatoes, spinach, and of course, cheese and pizza sauce.
I spread a thin layer of pizza sauce on each piece of dough then sprinkled cheese on my designated pizza. Meanwhile, Whitley dumped a mountain of cheese on her pizza and tossed on what looked like half of the bag of pepperoni. Both Caitlin and I ended up sneaking some of her pepperoni onto ours.
“Looks good.”
We all admired our pizzas before I carefully put them all in the oven.
The radio had been playing softly in the background, but my ears perked up when I heard the opening notes of “Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)” start to play.
“I love this song!” Caitlin giggled as I turned it up then reached out to take one of her hands and one of Whitley’s.
The aroma of homemade pizza and chocolate chip cookies filled the air as we had our very own dance party, right there in the guest house kitchen.
I spun Whitley around then hoisted her up on my shoulders, holding her hands as I swayed my hips to the beat. At the sight of us together, Caitlin stifled a laugh with her hand then pulled out her phone, then the polaroid camera I’d gotten for her the bucket list, to snap a few pictures.
This was exactly what I wanted the guest house to be used for. Nights filled with laughter, love, and making memories.
How fortunate was I to get to make them with two of my favorite girls in the entire world?