by Zoe York
When they arrived, the bakery parking lot was crowded. She recognized some of the cars from regulars on the cooking class circuit. She looped her bag over her shoulder, then went around to get Emily out of the back seat. “Careful,” she reminded her daughter. “Hold Mommy’s hand in the parking lot. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Nobody warned her that parking lots were the scariest part of parenting. Parking lots and fevers.
Inside, the decorating class had taken over the eat-in part of the bakery space, with all the tables rearranged with chairs on one side, facing a raised demonstrator table with a tilted mirror above it. Normally Natasha liked to grab seats at the perimeter just in case Emily got bored, but every table close to the exit was already filled. There was one at the back, though, so she pointed to it. “Let’s grab those seats, okay?”
Emily nodded and tugged her hand out of Natasha’s grip just as another class regular, Mrs. Cargill, tapped her on the shoulder. “Nice to see you both again,” the older woman said.
Natasha gave her a warm smile. “And you, too. I hope Emily won’t be too distracting today. She’s pretty excited about the icing.”
“She’s never a distraction. It’s a joy to see her—and look, she’s made a friend.”
What? Natasha twisted around just in time to see Emily slide onto a seat next to a man. A stranger. A hot stranger, which wasn’t really the most important thing to take note of right now, although…damn. His cut jaw and broad shoulders were the kind of grade-A masculinity that used to get her purring without hesitation.
She motored over just in time to hear Emily introduce herself, full name and age. “Are you here for cupcakes? Do you like pink?”
The stranger glanced around, and when Natasha stopped beside them, he gave her a kind smile. “Hi,” he said. “Apparently I stole your table.”
“I said, do you like pink?” Emily pushed herself up to her full, but still tiny, height, and propped her hands on her hips.
“I sure do,” the man said blandly, like a small child hadn’t just gotten up in his face about the colour pink.
Natasha’s cheeks flamed bright red. She knew where her daughter got that hands-on-the-hips exasperation. It was a perfect mirror of Natasha’s own behaviour. I said, did you brush your teeth? “Emily, manners.” She glanced around, but now all the other tables were filled. Okay. She took a deep breath. “I think it’s our table to share now,” she said apologetically. She slid into the chair on the other side of Emily. “I hope you weren’t planning on using any of the pink icing,” she muttered under her breath as the instructor stood up at the front of the room. “Because the tiny dictator between us has laid advance claim on it all.”
He chuckled. “It’s all hers.”
Emily gave them both a frustrated look. “I can share.”
That made Natasha laugh. “Yes, I know. You try very hard.”
“Mommy, shhh.” But then Emily gave her the sweetest, most angelic smile, and pressed her own lips together, and…sigh. They’d work on not being totally precocious tomorrow.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the handsome man grinning, but they were all looking ahead now. Officially. Unofficially, she was mentally cataloguing all the ways he was totally gorgeous as her lady parts were reminding her it had been four years since she’d had a chance to roll around naked with someone.
Oh, shut up ovaries. You’ve done enough for one lifetime.
Chapter Two
Matt was convinced the universe was punking him. Of course the hotel clerk had a boyfriend. That was fair. But a gorgeous, willowy brunette was attached to the toddler who’d arrived at his table at the same moment he did? Clearly, he wasn’t going to get laid in Port Elgin.
At least he’d have cupcakes and an hour of amusement.
The hot mom didn’t have a wedding ring, not that that necessarily meant anything. Eyes off the mother, Foster.
Had he ever slept with a mother? Not that he knew of, although he didn’t always get into life stories.
You aren’t sleeping with her today. Or ever. His lizard brain would hang on to this as off-limits fantasy material for his right hand, though. The mature, functional rest of him could shut that off. Which meant he could shift into safe, easy flirting, which was almost as much fun, just without the mutually satisfying ending.
He looked down at Emily Kingsley, proudly three-years-old, and she smiled up at him. He returned the grin. She held her finger up to her lips. Shhh. Yep, he got that rule.
At the front, the instructor was talking about different kinds of icing. Swiss meringue, buttercream, fondant. Today they were going to use buttercream, apparently, and as she said that, volunteers started to bring around pre-filled bags of icing. Each tray had three bags, but the mix of colours was varied around the room.
Matt watched as the volunteer came down their line. There was one tray that was chocolate heavy, and another with more pastel colours. The latter was handed to the table next to them, and he quickly leaned across the gap between the tables. “Sorry,” he whispered, sticking out his arm. Thank God for having a long reach. “We’re going to need the pink.”
He zoinked the tray for their table, setting it carefully in front of Emily.
She gave him a solemn look. “Mommy likes chocolate.”
Oh. He glanced past her to her mother, but the pretty woman shook her head with a small smile. I’m good, she mouthed. Thank you.
Emily poked at the ice packs on either side of the icing bags. “What are these for?”
“They keep the icing cold,” he said.
“Why?”
“So it won’t melt.”
“Is it ice cream?”
“No, but you don’t want it to be too warm or it won’t hold the shape when you pipe it out.” He pulled a piece of waxed paper between them and lifted the pink icing bag. He didn’t actually know what he was doing with them, but he’d watched enough cooking shows in the last six months to pretend he did, and as long as the little girl was looking at him like he was a baking god, he’d do his best to answer her question.
Besides, the instructor was still droning on, and this was more fun.
He handed her the bag, then carefully set his hand at the top, where he could control the pressure without taking over. “Squeeze a bit out.”
She squared her shoulders and pressed on the bag. He helped, and they drew a line of icing down the paper.
“Okay, put that back now,” he whispered, and she stowed the icing bag back on the tray with the freezer packs. “And while the lady up there is talking, watch the icing. It’s not going to melt like ice cream, but it will soften. Ready? Your job is to watch that super carefully.”
She nodded and hunkered down, bringing her chin level with the edge of the table, and she glued her gaze to the bubblegum-pink line of icing.
He sure as shit hoped that icing started to melt or something, or he’d look like an idiot to a three-year-old.
When he straightened up, he realized her mother was looking at him with a curious look on her face.
“I’m Matt, by the way,” he murmured. “Total icing novice, but don’t tell her.”
She laughed. “Natasha. And your secret is safe with me. Thanks for giving her something to do.”
He nodded and turned his attention back to the demonstration. He still felt the warmth of that careful look, though, and he was pretty sure if he looked back at her, he’d catch her eyes.
He didn’t glance back.
If she wanted to look her fill of him, that was fine. He was a stranger talking up her kid. She had every right to be wary.
And if she liked to look at him for any other reason, that was a-OK, too.
Ever since he was little, Matt had gotten a certain zing out of pleasing women. At first that meant charming the same teachers he aggravated or winning over the endless parade of babysitters before his brothers could rat him out for just being a normal, boisterous kid.
As an adult, sometime
s that meant taking women to bed—definitely his favourite way to make someone happy. But it also meant being a handsome face, a strong set of arms, or a steady shoulder. He knew he was good looking. He knew he sometimes used that to his advantage, and so far, no harm, no foul, as long as he kept the balance right. He tried to be a good guy, a good friend, and always set really clear expectations.
Look at me all you want, Natasha. He should probably make sure there was no Mr. Natasha before he went whole hog on the sexy mom fantasy, though.
Emily watched the icing—and secretly ate just a little of it—through the rest of the introduction. The practice part of the class was more fun. They did roses and leaves, and a fun squiggly line technique that turned Emily’s cupcake into a pink monster right out of Sesame Street.
Matt turned his cupcake into a bad version of a potted fern, but it made Emily laugh. Natasha decorated the rest of the half-dozen cupcakes they’d been given to practice on. Each one was a minimalist design, with a bottom layer of icing carefully smoothed out, then the same colour piped on top in a careful single bloom.
As she worked, and he practiced his piping skills making monster faces for Emily, he found out she wasn’t a baker. She’d worked in hospitality her whole adult life, and now that she was home with Emily during the day, they did these cooking classes together. “It’s not the same as going back to school or anything like that, but it helps me keep a toe in the food world.”
“You could probably teach one of these classes.”
She laughed, but then she nodded, surprising him. “Yeah. I mean, not now, but I do like that kind of thing. How about you? Are you an aspiring chef?”
He shook his head. “Total amateur hour for me. I’m a paramedic. I stumbled across this class after I arrived at the conference centre today.”
Emily looked up. “What’s a paramedic?”
“Do you know what an ambulance is?” She made the siren sound, and he nodded. “That’s right. I’m the guy in the back of an ambulance. If someone has an emergency, I can help get them to a doctor really fast.”
“Are you a superhero?” she asked earnestly.
Hardly. He gave her a gentle grin. “Only on Halloween.”
The volunteers returned with takeout boxes as they were talking, and Matt took his cue from Natasha as she started to box up their cupcakes. He only had his one, so he waved off a box and stood up. “I’ll eat this on my way back to my hotel room.”
Emily grabbed his hand and tugged on his fingers. “Can you come to the park with us?”
He jerked his gaze to Natasha, who was busy not looking at him. Definitely an awkward, unwanted invite. “Gotta take my cupcake back to my room, sorry.”
Natasha nodded quickly, still not making eye contact. “Emily, we need to take our cupcakes home so the icing doesn’t melt.”
“But Mommy…”
“Emily.”
Matt knew that tone, and he respected it. “I really do need to get going,” he lied, dropping down to a squat so he was at eye level with the little girl. “Thank you for teaching me how to make cupcakes.”
She giggled. “I didn’t teach you.”
“Someone did. Wasn’t that you?”
More giggles. “No.”
“Huh. I’m sure it was someone about this tall…” He held his hand up above her head. “And very bossy.”
She made a squeak of recognition, like yes, that must have been her after all. “I’m bossy!”
That made him laugh.
“Mommy says I should listen.”
“She’s right.” He leaned in. “Moms are always right.”
That got him a solemn nod in agreement.
“Okay, I have work to do, so I’ll go do that, and you can take your cupcakes home.” Why he was repeating that information, he wasn’t sure. He should just do that. Stand up, leave, and let the Kingsleys move on with their lives.
Emily wasn’t buying that he needed to go anywhere, though. “And then we’ll meet at the park?”
He glanced at Natasha, who looked a bit exasperated with her precocious daughter. He really didn’t mind Emily’s attitude, though, and thought he could offer a reasonable compromise. “Can I walk you out to your car instead?”
Emily shrugged. “Okay. My mommy has a Jeep. It’s red.”
“Nice!”
“Do you have a car?”
“I have a truck.”
“Is it pink?”
“No, it’s blue.”
“That’s okay.” But the seriously disappointed look on her face said it wasn’t, and he chuckled as he stood up.
They walked outside, and he stood beside Natasha’s car as she buckled Emily into the backseat. He was just waiting to say goodbye, he told himself. He could hear the words in his head. That was a lot of fun. Thanks for sharing a table with me. That was the right thing to say. He definitely shouldn’t ask if she had a husband, or boyfriend, or anything that might stop him from kissing her. Because he didn’t do entanglements, and it wasn’t like he could propose an afternoon hook-up to a mom with a kid.
“Thank you,” Natasha said as she turned around and shielded her eyes from the sun. “That was a fun hour. You were very good with her.”
“Probably the other way around.”
“I think you’re underestimating how exhausting she can be.”
“Now it’s definitely the other way around.”
Her eyes flared wide.
He hadn’t meant exhausting in a dirty way, but— “Sorry.”
She laughed. “It’s fine.”
“Are you really going to a park?” Those weren’t the words he’d prepped in his head. At all.
She hesitated, which meant the answer was no. He’d already guessed that, and he shouldn’t have asked. He was drawn to her, there was no denying that, but he liked her caution as much as everything else—her bright eyes, her dry humour, and the way she was with her daughter. And all of that was exactly why she should turn him down. He wasn’t the guy for a beautiful, wary single mom.
“Never mind.” He took a step back and raised his hand. “Thank you. That’s what I should have said. I had a lot of fun too.”
Her head bobbed in a slow nod as she searched his face.
He took another step back. Give her space. He was—just not quickly.
When she exhaled, a rough sigh, he stopped. And he grinned, because he liked to make women happy even when it was a bad idea. “What can I say here?”
Another laugh. “Say you understand that it’s weird that my child just invited a strange man to the park?”
“I get that.”
“You don’t claim you’re not strange?”
“Can’t do that. As a first responder, it’s my job to educate the public on stranger danger, not be the stranger danger.”
Her lips twisted as she looked at him long and hard. Then she nodded. “Right.”
“So this is goodbye?”
“It should be.” Her lips fell apart and her cheeks turned pink. “I mean, yes, it is.” She glanced down at his feet, not moving.
God, he wanted to flirt with her so badly. Maybe he already was. Maybe this was how his fifteen years of intensive training rolled out with a single mother. “Is there a reason why I shouldn’t suggest I could meet you at the park?”
“Is that your way of asking if I’m single?” She asked the question without looking up at him.
“Yeah.”
She didn’t answer at first, and when she did, it wasn’t exactly an answer to the question. “There’s a mini fall fair happening today. Pre-school level of activities. I’m not sure it’ll be fun for you.”
Heaven help him, but he was certain it would be. “I don’t have anything else to do. I’m all yours today.”
A surprised look flitted across her face. “Well, it’s…” She turned, pointed toward the centre of town, and described how to get to the park. “We’ll be there in half an hour.”
He shouldn’t be looking forward to that. There
was no sex to be had in the park. But he still grinned at her. “Then I’ll see you both in thirty minutes.”
Natasha spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince herself Matt wouldn’t show up. She needed to lower her expectations, pronto.
He was officially too good to be true. Sweet, funny, hot. There was something about him that made her immediately comfortable, like they already knew each other. But that was only one layer, an unexpected base level of comfort she rarely felt around men.
This man, though…
One afternoon. That’s all you get. No, she knew that. But the fantasy was nice. Very nice. Smoking hot level of nice.
She made Emily eat a healthy lunch to make up for the icing-overdose, then encouraged a just-try, just-in-case pee break before they packed a bag of snacks and water and spare clothes, and headed out to the park on foot. It was right next to the school where she’d have to pick up Noelle and Logan in a couple of hours, so they’d spend the entire afternoon at the mini fair.
With Matt.
Maybe.
If he showed—
“Matt!” Emily streaked away from her, her hands waving in the air as she caught sight of their new friend striding along the edge of the mini fair.
So he showed up. That wasn’t reason enough for her insides to flutter. She was smarter than that now.
Natasha watched, a lump forming in her throat, as Emily raced around Matt in a tight circle, then grabbed his hand and gestured toward the fenced-off area for pony rides.
He looked over, seeking permission.
“Sure, let’s do the ponies first,” Natasha said, lifting her voice. “I think the ticket stand is just on the other side.”
“I can get those,” Matt offered when they met in the middle of the grassy expanse.
Emily bounced off the end of his arm.
“We took the bulk of the cupcakes home. I can’t let you buy my daughter a pony ride, too, but thank you. Emily, stop bouncing. Please.”
“I want to get in line!”
“We need tickets first.”
“Mommy!”
“Emily,” she said, a low warning. “Best behaviour, right?”