“Hi,” the beauty standing in front of me greets. “Can I help you?” She smiles politely.
Her long brown hair cascades over her shoulders, and those big brown eyes study me. “Hi. I’m Declan Kincaid. My mom and my daughter are here.”
“Daddy!” Blakely comes running to the door and launches herself into my arms.
I catch her with ease. “Hey, squirt. Sorry I’m late.” I kiss her forehead and hug her tightly. My body instantly relaxes. There is nothing like a hug from my little girl.
“Are you late?” she asks, furrowing her brow. “We’ve been having so much fun. Kennedy braided my hair.” She turns her head so that I can see.
“Did you say thank you?” I prompt her.
“I did.”
“Come in out of the cold.” Kennedy steps back so we can enter the house.
I’m immediately hit with something that smells incredible. My stomach growls, reminding me I’ve not eaten since breakfast, and Blakely laughs.
“Daddy has a lion in his belly.” She giggles.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Mom greets. “How was your day?”
“Long.” I sigh. “Blake, get your stuff together. We need to get home before the lion in my belly gets angrier.” I kiss her cheek and place her back on her feet. She grabs my hand and pulls me farther into the room.
“Grandma cooked us gasagna.”
“Lasagna,” my mom corrects with a soft laugh.
“There’s plenty,” Maureen speaks up. “Why don’t you stay and eat? That will save you from cooking later.”
“No. You save that for yourself. How are you feeling?” I ask her, remembering my manners.
“I’m doing just fine. My granddaughter”she points at the beauty who answered the door“is here to stay with me while I recover. She’s single,” Maureen adds.
I turn my gaze to the beauty who stole my breath. I hold out my hand to her. “I’m Declan.” I ignore the information that she’s single that has my cock stirring. I’m a single dad. I don’t have time to indulge, no matter how my body reacts to her.
She smiles, her face flushed, and she places her hand in mine. Her skin is soft against my rough, calloused hands. “Kennedy. Nice to meet you. I’m sorry my grandmother doesn’t have a filter.” She playfully rolls her eyes.
I chuckle. “I have eight brothers. I understand no filter.” She chuckles, and the sound goes straight to my cock. I shift my stance to hide what she does to me. “Blake.” I pull my gaze from Kennedy. “Get your things.”
“But, Daddy, the lion is roaring really loud, and Miss Maureen told you you could eat, and Grandma made it, and you always eat lots when Grandma cooks.”
“I insist,” Maureen tells me. “Kennedy. Will you take Declan to the kitchen to make him a plate?”
“That’s not necessary,” I tell her.
“You might as well give in.” Kennedy smiles. “She’s not going to let you walk out of here without feeding you.”
“I know someone like that,” I say, glancing at my mom.
“Hey.” She holds her hands up in surrender. “I raised nine rowdy boys who were always hungry and who had friends who were always hungry. I learned to cook for an army.”
“Follow me,” Kennedy says, nodding toward the kitchen.
I point at my daughter. “Behave.” I really should be going, I left my engine running, but I’m a man, one who can’t seem to say no to the beautiful woman leading me to the kitchen.
“Who me?” She points at her chest, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. I swear my brothers, the twins, Maverick and Merrick, who are the babies of the family at nineteen, teach my daughter attitude. They are the reason she’s four going on fourteen.
When I walk past Mom, I stop to kiss her cheek. “Thanks for keeping her later today.”
“Oh, hush.” She waves me off. “You know I love having her with me. We’re best friends, right, Blake?” Mom asks.
“Oh, the bestest, but Miss Maureen and Kennedy too.” Blakely is quick to make sure she’s not leaving anyone out. She might be an only child and spoiled, but she’s not a brat. Most of the time.
“Of course,” Mom assures her with a smile.
I follow Kennedy to the kitchen, trying not to gaze at her ass as she walks in front of me. I’m failing miserably. “Have a seat,” she says, pointing at the small table.
“What can I do to help?”
“I’ve got it. Besides, you are helping. Your mom really does cook enough for an army. Grandma and I would be eating this for a week,” she says, referring to the large pan of lasagna sitting on top of the stove.
“I don’t know if she knows any other way. Our family is growing, so it’s only going to get worse.”
“Growing?”
“Yeah, my brother Brooks and his fiancée are expecting a baby, our little cousin, Ramsey, who is like a sister to us, is getting married, and my older brother Orrin, he’s practically engaged himself, so yeah, we’re growing.”
“I always wanted a big family,” she says, scooping up a huge helping of lasagna, covering it with a paper towel, and popping it in the microwave.
“I joke that it’s not all that great, but it’s a lie. I loved every minute of growing up with my brothers. There was never a dull moment in our house, that’s for sure.”
“I’m an only child,” she confesses. “I begged for a sibling growing up.” She smiles. “I met your brother Brooks earlier today. He stopped in to check on Grandma.”
“She seems to be in good spirits.”
“She is, but nothing seems to get her down. My grandma is definitely one of a kind.”
“I don’t know her well. I was already moved out and living on my own when she moved into this place. I have seen her at barbecues, and I know my younger brothers, the twins, mow for her, and she pays them in cookies.”
She laughs. “If you only knew the stories that I hear about the handsome young men who mow her lawn.”
“Please don’t tell them that. They’re cocky enough as it is. They’ll make sure we all hear about it over and over and over again.” I shake my head in amusement.
The microwave beeps, and she removes the plate, placing it in front of me on the table. “Sweet tea, milk, or water? I could make some coffee,” she adds.
“Sweet tea is fine. Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome.”
I don’t take my eyes off her as she pours me a glass of sweet tea and brings it to the table. “Thank you.” I accept the glass and take a sip. “Sit with me?” I don’t know why I’m asking. My Tahoe is running, and I need to get Blakely home and give her a bath, but the words are out there, and I find that I don’t want to take them back. I’m here, so I might as well soak up her company while I eat.
“Sure.” She pulls out a chair opposite me and lowers onto the seat.
I take a bite, and the familiar taste of my mom’s homemade sauce hits my tongue. I shovel the forkful into my mouth and barely even chew. I force myself to slow down and mind my manners, as my mom always used to remind us. Hell, who am I kidding? As an adult, she still reminds us.