Saved by the Single Dad (The Single Dads of Seattle Book 3)

by Whitley Cox

  “So gross,” Mira echoed. “It hurt my froat and my lungs. Made it hard to breave.”

  “Th-roat,” Jayda corrected, making the correct mouth and tongue shape to create the th sound. “Bree-th.”

  Mira mimicked her. “Thhhh-roat. Bree-vth.”

  Jayda shrugged. “Close enough.”

  Paige held back a laugh.

  Click.

  She glanced up from where she’d been half working the pastry dough into layers and half paying attention to the girls to find Mitch standing there with his camera out.

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s like another appendage for you, isn’t it?”

  “Almost as important as other appendages.” His grin made her tingly all over.

  She had the pasta roller attachment hooked up to the stand mixer and was getting ready to feed the dough through. With the back of her wrist, Paige pushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead, then went back to work working the dough.

  “Here.” Mitch skirted around the little girls. “Allow me.” He tucked the lock behind Paige’s ear, the touch of his finger against the shell of her ear making everything inside her turn to jelly. Not to mention the heat of his big, hard body mere inches from hers.

  Memories of Wednesday night in his new studio flitted back into her mind, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. Mitch Benson was one hell of a kisser.

  “What are you making, Mrs. Mira’s Mommy?” Jayda asked, bringing Paige back to the now.

  She hadn’t realized she’d shut her eyes, and when she opened them, Mitch was staring back at her, the smile on his face far too cocky for her liking. She batted him playfully on the chest, getting flour on his nice navy polo.

  Served him right.

  Paige turned her attention back to Jayda. “I’m making a sfogliatelle,” she said, chuckling when Jayda’s eyes went wide in confusion.

  Jayda rolled the word around on her tongue, then wrinkled her nose before asking, “What’s sfo-ee-ya-tell-y?” Her pronunciation was slow and clear, and for six years old, she did a pretty good job.

  Paige fed the dough through the roller. “It’s an Italian dessert with layers of fluffy puff pastry and a creamy ricotta filling inside. You might know it better as a lobster tail.”

  Jayda nodded. “I know bear claws and apple fritters, but I’ve never had a lobster tail.”

  Paige loved how precocious and curious this little girl was. No wonder Mira had taken to her right away.

  “Well, then, tonight’s your lucky night. But I’m also doing a twist on a classic. I’m adding white chocolate and fresh raspberries to the filling. Then we’ll sprinkle it with icing sugar once they’ve cooled and top them with melted white chocolate and more raspberries.”

  Jayda and Mira both looked at each other and went ooohhh.

  “Would you girls like to help me sprinkle the icing sugar when it’s time?”

  Mira and Jayda nodded.

  “Great. I’ll call you when they’re ready.”

  Thankfully, the girls took their cue and headed outside to the backyard, where it seemed Adam, Violet and Paige’s parents had brought out the bocce ball set and were starting up a game.

  Paige turned back to the pasta roller and slid the pastry through for a second time. Once it came out the other side, she folded it in half, then fourths, only to feed it through the roller once more. She needed to repeat this process several times before moving on to the next step.

  Click.

  “Do you ever just live in the moment?” she asked, flicking her eyes up to Mitch’s for just a second before turning back to her dough.

  Warm hands encircled her waist, and she immediately felt herself relax in his embrace. He planted a kiss to the side of her head. “I’ve missed you.” The low rumble of his voice turned to a gritty hoarseness that made her nipples pearl instantly.

  Her eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned her head to the side. He took her invitation and kissed her neck.

  “I’ve missed you too.”

  His teeth scraped up the length of her neck before nipping that extra-sensitive spot just below her ear.

  “How’s this for living in the moment?” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. A hunger echoed in his tone that mirrored her own.

  She opened her eyes, set her dough on the counter and spun around in his arms to face him, looping her arms over his shoulders. “I’d say it’s pretty good, but we could do better.” Her fingers threaded their way into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and she tugged his head toward her, pressing her lips against his. “I’m probably getting flour in your hair,” she murmured.

  “Fuck if I care,” he whispered back, capturing her mouth once again and taking over the kiss, tightening his grip on her waist and wedging his tongue between her lips, exploring the recesses of her mouth with long, lascivious sweeps and twirls.

  Fire swept down her spine, landing deep down in her belly and continuing to travel south. She moaned into his mouth and pulled harder on his hair.

  A throat cleared.

  As if made of opposing magnets, Mitch and Paige flew apart.

  “Don’t mind me,” her mother sang sweetly. “Just came to grab the pitcher of lemonade for everyone.”

  Paige blew out a breath and averted her eyes from both her chuckling mother and a sheepish but also very triumphant-looking Mitch. How could some men look like the cat that ate the canary at the same time they resembled a proud male lion who’d just won the right to mate with the lioness?

  Paige’s mother was there and gone as fast as Mitch and Paige had separated their lips.

  They waited until the door to the backyard was firmly shut before finally lifting their eyes to each other.

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  “I can’t help myself,” Mitch said, his grin making Paige’s panties get wetter by the second. “Your lips are all puffy, your cheeks are rosy, and your eyes are bright. The gold really comes out and sparkles when you’re excited.” She wasn’t sure how, but his smile grew even cockier. “Or in this case turned on. You really are the most expressive and incredible person I’ve ever photographed.”

  Paige pursed her lips and looked away. She wasn’t used to such compliments.

  A knuckle landed under her chin, and she was forced to meet his gaze.

  “Take the compliment. Own it. You are stunning, and that’s nothing to be shy about.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order, and the way his eyes narrowed and his stare intensified, it made her want to obey him without hesitation.

  His head dipped, and he brushed his lips against hers once again, only this time he kept it light, kept it soft. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t just as hot as when he’d thrust his tongue into her mouth and breathed her in, swallowed her gasps and coaxed moans from deep in her throat. This time the kiss spoke of all the things he could do with his mouth, with his body, with his hands but was holding back, teasing her, tempting her. Making her want all the things he wasn’t giving her.

  And boy, oh boy, did she want them.

  His tongue traced along her bottom lip, drawing a whimper from her before she could stop it. She was putty. Putty in his hands. As moldable and malleable as the pastry dough.

  She was about to pull his head back down to her, take his lips in the need-driven kiss she knew they both craved, when voices big and small drew nearer and the doorknob to the backyard jiggled.

  Mitch pulled away, and she went back to rolling out her pastry dough just as the kitchen filled with people.

  Paige hid her face and focused intently on the dough, her bottom lip firmly between her teeth as she struggled not to smile.

  Click.

  10

  They dined alfresco.

  From the outside looking in, one might think it weird for Adam and Paige, exes, and their new partners, children and Paige’s parents to all be dining together.

  But it wasn’t.

  It was wonderful.

  Paige was surrounded b
y all those she loved dearly.

  And all those she was coming to feel deeply for—Mitch, Jayda and Violet.

  In just the span of a few weeks, they had become her extended family—people who cared about Mira and Adam just as much as she did, and for some reason, cared a lot about her as well.

  She was dancing on air by the time she brought out her sfogliatelle. Everyone had raved and swooned over her dinner.

  And if she allowed herself a moment to brag and puff up her chest, she had done an amazing job.

  Almond-crusted halibut in a fresh mango and chili chutney; prawn and scallop ceviche with lemongrass and ginger; a cold asparagus salad with almonds, turkey bacon and crispy onions; creamy polenta with truffles and brown butter; and, of course, the dessert. Her magnum opus. The dish that had been haunting her dreams for weeks. White chocolate-, raspberry- and ricotta-stuffed sfogliatelle with powdered sugar, more white chocolate and fresh raspberries.

  “Ah,” Paige’s dad sighed, making a dramatic show of releasing the buckle on the belt of his khaki shorts. “Going to have to add a mile or two to my run tomorrow morning after a meal like that.” He leaned over and pecked Paige on the cheek. “You’ve outdone yourself, sweetheart. Everything was superb.”

  Paige grinned.

  Click.

  She rolled her eyes.

  Mitch and that damn camera.

  She turned to Mira and Jayda, who both had subtler versions of the meal. She believed in introducing all kinds of flavors and foods to children early, but certain flavor profiles can be overwhelming for developing palates, so she gave them the same dishes as the adults but with less spice and a few less truffles.

  You don’t waste truffles on children. You just don’t.

  “What did you think of it, honey?” She ran her hand down the back of Mira’s soft, dark curly hair, twirling one of the perfect Shirley Temple ringlets around her index finger.

  Click.

  Mira looked up at her mother, her face covered in powdered sugar and raspberry filling. “I love the sfoggy, Mom. Can I have another?”

  Everyone around the table chuckled.

  “I think one is enough for today, honey. But I made plenty, so you can always have one tomorrow.”

  Mira pouted but consigned herself to her fate and eventually nodded, licking her finger and wiping up all traces of the dessert off her plate, then popping her finger into her mouth with a big smile.

  “Are you going to serve these dishes at the restaurant?” Violet asked, leaning back in her chair and making a slight face of discomfort before she rested her hand on her stomach. “Whoa, I am full.”

  Paige nodded. “Something like these. But more lunch-friendly. So I’ll put the halibut into a wrap, the ceviche into a to-go cup. I plan to make the restaurant open for breakfast and lunch, with a big emphasis on fast and fresh service to go. It only seats about twenty people, so we need to make our focus the mid-week lunch rush. We’ll be available for daytime, evening and weekend catering. I don’t feel like accommodating the dinner crowd. Given the location, we’ll do well enough with the brunch and lunch rushes that we shouldn’t need to be open for dinner. I really want to focus on the catering side as well. Keep our menu tight but variable. Rotate the menu and the dishes every month to six weeks to stick with what’s in season. I’ve already reached out to a bunch of my supplier contacts and set up new accounts.”

  Adam’s eyes went wide at the same time he casually draped an arm around the back of Violet’s chair. “Wow, you got organized fast.”

  “Passion breeds motivation,” Mitch chimed in. “She’s even hired staff.”

  “You have?” her mother asked.

  Paige stood up to start clearing plates, but Violet and Adam stood up as well and stopped her, saying they would do it.

  “Jane from Narcissus is coming on board. She told me she’d follow me wherever I went. And she’s brought along three others. I already have a competent staff of four who I know are hard workers. They know my style, how I like to work, and I know that I’ll be able to give them a lot of responsibility right off the bat.”

  Her father welcomed Mira into his lap, sneakily giving her a piece of his sfogliatelle. “That’s wonderful. I always liked Jane. A bit of a wild child at heart, but her work ethic is there.”

  “Exactly.”

  Mira jumped off her grandfather’s lap and beelined it over to the patio railing where the hummingbird feeder hung, swarmed by the little long-beaked speed demons as they ate their supper on the fly.

  Smiling, Paige wandered over to stand next to her daughter.

  Since Mira was very small, she’d always had a way with the hummingbirds. Normally a very loud and busy child, Mira settled right down into an almost catatonic calm when the birds were around. And the birds loved her. Paige had countless pictures of Mira covered in hummingbirds since before she could even walk.

  “The Anna’s hummingbirds are here year-round,” Paige’s father said with delight in his voice, “but the Calliopes and Rufous are summer visitors.”

  “The Rufous are my favorites,” Paige’s mother chimed in, “with their beautiful colorings and sweet faces. It’s why I plant so many fuchsias and geraniums, to bring the little darlings.”

  Mira stuck out her finger, and within seconds, one landed on her. Then another on her hand, followed by another on her shoulder.

  “That’s incredible,” Violet said, having returned from the kitchen.

  Paige stuck out her finger, and one landed on her.

  “Paige was the hummingbird whisperer as a kid,” her mother said softly, “and it looks like she passed on that trait to Mira.”

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  Paige lost count of how many times she heard Mitch’s camera. She also stopped paying attention.

  “You should name the new restaurant the Hummingbird Café,” Adam offered. “Seeing as you’re such a whisperer.”

  Paige didn’t move but spoke softly. “I thought about that, but there is already a bar by that name, the Hummingbird Saloon, so I don’t want people to get us mixed up.” Another hummingbird landed on her shoulder. “Plus, lilacs and lavender have always been my favorite flowers, and I’ve wanted to have them in my restaurant name for years.”

  A small tug on her shirt had her moving her eyes from the bird on her hand to the little blonde girl next to her. “Can I try?” Jayda asked with hope in her wide, blue eyes.

  Paige nodded, slowly moving her hand down and next to Jayda’s outstretched arm. “Gentle now. Very quiet. Very still. They startle easily.”

  Jayda’s head bobbed.

  The hummingbird’s wings began to beat, and his feet lifted up from Paige’s hand. Her heart sank at the thought that the little bird was going to leave, but then it zipped over a couple of inches, hovered above Jayda’s hand, then put its feet back down.

  Her smile made Paige’s heart double in size. “It tickles,” Jayda whispered.

  Paige nodded with a big grin.

  Click.

  Paige took a step back and marveled at the scene. Two little angels, illuminated with the low-hanging evening sun behind them, whispering to the birds.

  Click.

  Click.

  She lifted her head to catch Mitch’s eyes, but he was focused on his camera, only it wasn’t pointed at the children. It was pointed at her.

  Click.

  One eyebrow slowly slid up her forehead, and she shook her head with a lopsided smile. “Take pictures of the children, please,” she said softly, knowing only he could hear her.

  She didn’t have to see his mouth or even both of his eyes to know that he was smiling. He said she was expressive, but so was he. His face held laugh lines she loved to watch crinkle around his eyes and on his forehead whenever he smiled or laughed, which with Mitch was an awful lot.

  Her heart did a little thump thump in her chest, and she withdrew her gaze from his and focused back on their daughters.

  Just l
ike earlier in the kitchen, she didn’t have to see him to know he was now behind her.

  “Violet and Adam are going to watch Jayda tonight,” he said, his mouth close to her ear. “I’d love to come back so we can talk.”

  “Talk?” She was glad they weren’t looking at each other, because she was sure the man held all kinds of wicked intentions in his eyes.

  “Yes, talk. I want to talk with you. Get to know you. I said before that I was going to take it slow with you, and I mean every word of that.”

  Heat raced up her neck and into her cheeks.

  But what if she didn’t want to take it slow?

  Tonight’s meal had gone better than she ever would have expected. Her life was on the upswing. She wanted to ride the high, ride the wave as long as she could. And that meant taking it to the next level with Mitch. She hadn’t felt this way about a man since Adam, and for the first time in much too long, she wanted to feel a connection with someone, explore the connection she already felt growing with Mitch. She needed to feel his pulse pound beneath her lips, his hands roam over every inch of her body.

  Mitch made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the room, like she was worthy of love, and she liked that feeling. She liked it a lot.

  Like a drug, she needed more of it.

  “I have Mira tonight,” she whispered.

  “Does she stay with you in the pool house?”

  “Yes.”

  His low, masculine growl caused her nipples to pebble.

  “But once she’s asleep, we could wander to the other side of the yard where there’s a big hammock and have a glass of wine and talk,” she said, continuing to keep her voice low.

  Another growl, but this time it was more like a purr. “Don’t say talk like that. My intentions are pure.”

  Paige’s lip twitched. “But what if mine aren’t?”

  His pinky finger grazed her hip. “You’re making it very hard for me to be a gentleman, Paige.”

  “Your compliments make it very hard for me to want to take it slow.”

  “That’s not my intention with them. I just believe that beauty in all forms should be celebrated, shared and given credit where it’s due. And you are a true beauty.”