A set of grocery bags dangled from Audrey’s fingers. “We were hungry for an early dinner.”
Cameron shoved down the powerful kick of warmth that flooded his system. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and several fine strands had slipped free and brushed her face when she moved. The slight caressing of hair only emphasized her glowing, makeup-free face and made Cameron want to skim the pad of this thumb along her jawline. He bet her skin was soft. Touchable. He’d never thought of a woman having touchable skin because he was usually too busy worrying about unsnapping her bra.
She took a step forward, and Cameron used a nanosecond to assess her skinny jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt. She looked like she had a perfectly pinched waist that he could get both hands around. A seamless indentation for his palms.
Blake cleared his throat, and Cameron glanced at him in time to catch his friend’s eye roll.
“You want to go somewhere?” he asked Audrey.
“No, I was going to cook,” she told him.
“Here?” Because, for some reason, having her and Piper in his house was so…personal. Sort of like sealing the deal. Even though he suspected it was already sealed.
Audrey gestured toward the guesthouse. “Unless you’d rather do it over there.”
Hell, he’d do it anywhere with her.
“Here’s fine,” he said. Then he shifted his attention at Piper, who was still eyeing Blake. “Did you get some good nap time in on the hammock?” Why couldn’t he ever think of anything to say to the kid?
She gave a slight nod, without taking her eyes off Blake.
Cameron looked at Blake, then back at Piper.
Thankfully, Audrey jumped in and saved him. “Piper, do you remember Mr. Carpenter? He coaches the football team with your uncle Cameron.”
Uncle Cameron. The words still created a shiver of uncertainty through his system. He’d never been anyone’s uncle or anything else to anyone.
Piper nodded again, and Blake lowered himself to the kid’s level.
“You can call me Blake,” he told Piper. “What’s your friend’s name?” he asked as he fingered one of Jellybean’s ratty, discolored ears.
Piper hugged the stuffed cat closer. “Jellybean,” she muttered in a soft voice.
“She keeps you safe, huh?” Blake guessed.
Piper hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
Blake ruffled the kid’s hair, which was already a mess of tangled blond waves, then stood as his phone vibrated. He withdrew the device and thumbed the screen. “I’ve gotta run. Annabelle wants pizza.” He leaned toward Audrey. “Be careful with this one,” he warned with a pointed look at Cameron. “He’s OCD about cooking.” Blake’s mouth turned up in a wicked grin.
“Piss off,” Cameron told his friend.
Audrey placed her hands over Piper’s ears. “Child present.”
Cameron cleared his throat, not used to having to censor himself. Was piss a bad word to say around a six-year-old? “Sorry.”
Blake collected the game tape and with a quick “See ya in the morning,” he was gone, leaving Cameron alone with two females who’d upended his life and were currently looking at him with mixed expressions.
Cameron gazed down at his niece, wishing he knew what made her tick. He wished like hell he understood her more. What went on in her head? Was she still grieving for her mother? Obviously she was; after all, Dianna had only been gone for about two months. But from what he could tell, Piper had adapted well. Cameron understood loss. He knew how it felt to have everything come crashing down. But this was different. His father had chosen to leave, because he’d been a weak, selfish bastard. Dianna had been taken from Piper, leaving her little girl with no one, except one fiercely protective temporary guardian and a clueless uncle.
He gestured toward the bag Audrey was holding. “What do you have in there?”
Audrey watched him for a moment, as though she didn’t fully trust him. Then she lifted the bag and opened it. “Bacon, eggs, and a pancake mix.”
“A mix?” he questioned. Who the hell made one of the greatest breakfast staples from a damn mix?
Audrey blinked, as though she didn’t understand the question. “Yeah. What’s wrong with using a mix?”
Cameron snorted and led her toward the kitchen. “It’s artificial, that’s what’s wrong with it. If you’re making pancakes in my kitchen, we’re doing it from scratch.”
Audrey set the grocery bag on the counter. “I have a feeling you’re more than OCD about food,” she speculated.
“I like my food made a certain way.” He jerked his chin toward the bag of food. “None of that artificial stuff.” When his father had cut out, his mom had taken two jobs to provide for both of them. She’d worked nights, leaving Cameron on his own and fending for his own dinners. Not that he’d ever resented his mother for how often she’d been gone. Pamela Shaw had busted her ass to provide for her only son, and Cameron loved the hell out of her for that. Because he’d been on his own so many evenings, he’d learned the art of food, how to play around with recipes and to make do with what was in the pantry.
Cameron turned to Piper. “You and Jellybean want to have a seat at the bar? It’s the best seat in the kitchen.”
Piper nodded, then climbed onto one of the wooden stools. She arranged Jellybean on the stool next to her so the cat could watch too. Cameron turned back to the food in time to see the slight tilt of Audrey’s mouth, as though he had her approval.
Which was all fine and stuff, except he didn’t need her approval.
Okay, but you totally do.
Whatever. Let Audrey think what she wanted to think.
Cameron rustled around in the pantry and fridge for the necessary pancake ingredients. He’d just set the flour on the counter when he stopped Audrey in the process of
