Chapter Sixteen
Ty watched Kat pull away, a little nervous for his girl’s first day of art school, but proud she took the initiative to do something solely for herself. Turning, he faced Mia. She sat at the table, the picture of sweet innocence and smiled at him. “So, what do you feel like doing while Mommy’s at class, Miss Mia.”
“Let’s bake a cake for her.”
A cake? Okay, he could bake a cake. “All right.” That should keep them busy for the two hours. “Where’s your mom keep the mix?” Knowing Kat, she likely had a shelf labeled for things like frosting.
Mia shrugged so he opened cabinets, but didn’t find any boxed mixes.
“You could just use a cook book like Momma does.”
He glanced at his little sidekick. She only came to above his knee. Her cute, rosy cheeks pulled as she smiled. How could he disappoint such an adorable thing? “Okay.”
He found a cookbook and flipped through the table of contents. “What’s your mom’s favorite cake?”
“Momma likes white chocolate.”
Turning pages, he looked for anything with white chocolate in the recipe. He found something called a Swiss White Chocolate cake. The ingredients all seemed pretty basic.
“Does your mom have white chocolate?”
“In here.” She pointed to the freezer.
Hidden on the top shelf in the back he found a bag of white chocolate kisses. Mia told him where the measuring cups and spoons were and soon they had themselves set up like a private little cooking show.
“We’ll need to add the secret ‘gredient too,” she said as he tucked a dishrag into the collar of her shirt.
“What’s the secret ingredient?”
“Love.”
This was the coolest kid in the world. “Of course we do. Luckily, I have some right here in my pocket.” He tapped the pocket over his heart and she smiled approvingly.
He measured out flour, baking soda, sugar, and such as Mia clumsily dumped them into the big bowl. White powder sprinkled the counter, but it wasn’t anything that wouldn’t wipe up with a little water.
When it was time to crack the egg, Mia assured him she knew how. Tyson winced as her fingers took a bath in the yoke and half the shell fell into the bowl. Plucking out the pieces, he tossed them in the disposal as he held Mia over the sink so she could wash her hands. His forearms were dusted with white powder and egg goop clung to his knuckles.
Rather than use a mixer, he handed Mia a whisk. She stood on a kitchen chair and stirred the ingredients into a thick batter while he found a saucepan to heat the chocolate. Turning the dial to medium, he measured out some water and dumped it into the pot. Mia was making a mess at the counter, but having a good time, so he let her go. The water heated to a boil and he dropped in the chocolate. The white kisses began to melt. He stirred the mixture with a spatula as he consulted the recipe. “Where’s your mom keep the cake pans?”
She turned and the bowl teetered on the end of the counter. He jumped and caught it as a good bit of batter landed on his arm.
“Oops. Sorry, Tyson.”
“That’s okay. Why is this so chunky?”
She shrugged.
Something wasn’t right. A hiss sounded as the pot of chocolate bubbled like white lava. Dashing to the stove, he stirred the mix, lifting it from the heat. It was smooth, but hard on the bottom, sort of lumpy in spots. He frowned and sniffed. The smell of burnt chocolate wasn’t too strong. Lowering the temperature, he put the mix back on the stove.
After locating two round cake pans he frowned. The white sludge was now solidified on the surface of Kat’s stove. He looked at Mia and his eyes went wide. She was elbow deep in the sack flour. “Mia!”
She jumped and the bag jerked, falling to the floor. The heavy sack landed with a thump, sending a mushroom cloud of dust into the air. Particles slowly settled on every surface of the kitchen. Mia laughed.
“Dear God,” he muttered.
Mia’s strawberry blonde hair was white, her eyes bright and wide against her flour caked skin.
He breathed. “Okay, don’t move. Let me get this frosting started and then I’ll clean you up.” Of course the frosting took more minutes than a three-year-old could stay still. “Snow!” She giggled, scooping handfuls of powder and tossing it into the air.
“Mia, don’t do that, sweetie.”
She smiled at him, legs twisting in the mess, feet waving left to right. A trail of tiny footprints swirled all around her. He sighed. At least that would occupy her for a few minutes so he could figure out what the hell was going on at the stove.
Quickly scanning the recipe, he realized five things. One, he forgot to preheat the oven. That was a quick fix. Two, he should have removed the first chocolate mix to cool a while ago. Three, the mix was supposed to be added before the batter. Four, he should have been constantly stirring what was now a chocolate boulder glued to the end of the spatula. And five, he was never baking with a three-year-old again.
As the oven preheated, he quickly righted as many wrongs as possible. Pouring the batter into a new bowl, he mixed in the chocolate sauce. There wasn’t time to let it cool and he didn’t see the point when it was going into the oven.
Mia ran into the living room and he tossed the bowl on the counter to chase after her. “Mia, where are you going?”
She giggled as he scooped her off her feet before she could leave a floured Mia print on the sofa. Holding her under his arm like a football, he pulled all the dishes from the sink with his free hand. When the basin was empty, he stuffed a rag in the drain and sat Mia there. “Stay put.”
“Why am I in the sink?” she laughed.
“So that I can get this cake in the oven.” The burnt smell was getting worse. “Mia, did you put more flour than I measured out?”
Little Miss Innocent shrugged.
The oven beeped. Setting the timer, he slipped the pans in the oven, and shut the door. With a sigh he turned to face the disaster that was Kat’s kitchen.
“Shit.”
“Quarter!” Mia called from the sink.
One, two, three, four, five, six… He counted until his nerves calmed. Everything—everything—was coated in white. Including Mia. He had no idea where to start.
Unsure if giving Mia a bath was a no-no, he reached for a wet rag and started wiping the counters, which was a pain because the minute water touched flour it formed dough. Great.
“Tyson, I wanna get out.”
“Okay, sweetie, just give me a second.”
He tossed the rag aside and went to the sink. Not good. “Don’t move.” Running to Mia’s room and found a fresh pair of PJs. “Okay, were going to clean you up before Mommy gets home.”
“In my clothes?”
Even the kid knows you don’t know what you’re doing. “Yup. Head back.”
He adjusted the water and used a cup to rinse the flour from Mia’s hair and skin. Her clothes clung to her and she found the entire process hysterical. Him—not so much.
He dried her with a dishtowel and peeled off her clothes, switching them out with clean pajamas. Once somewhat clean, he plopped her on the couch. “Now, you sit here while I tidy up the kitchen, okay?”
She snuggled into the couch with a sippy-cup and a wet, messy head. He sighed and looked at the clock. Forty minutes until Kat was home.
For the next thirty minutes he scrubbed the counters, wiped down the cabinets, swept and mopped the floor, and frosted the most lopsided cake he had ever made. Mia was sound asleep on the couch. When the cake was finally done, he sighed.
“Saddest fuckin’ cake I’ve ever seen in my life,” he mumbled, pushing it back on the counter.
The headlights of Kat’s car rolled over the front windows. He did a quick scan of the remaining damage. The sink was full of dishes, but the kitchen was—for the most part—clean.
The knob turned and he straightened, trying to appear relaxed. Her happy expression faltered the moment she saw him. “What happened to you?”
Crap. “Uh, what do you mean?”
“Um…” Her lips pressed tight as her shoulders shook with laughter. “You’re all white.”
He glanced at his arms and deflated. “I don’t know how you do it, Kat. Mia’s an angel, but boy is she a lot of work.”
Her smile broadened. “Told you.” She shut the door and put down her supplies. “What happened?”
“We made a cake for you.”
She stilled and turned, eyes wide with gratitude that would no doubt vanish the moment she saw their culinary nightmare. “You did?”
He nodded. “A white chocolate Swiss cake. I have no idea how it’s going to taste, though.”
“Aw, Tyson! I want to hug you, but you’re filthy.”
Eyes narrowing with mischief, he slowly stalked her into a corner, corralling her with his body, until she giggled at his mercy. He pressed a kiss to her neck. “Get messy with me, Kat.”
“Where’s Mia?”
“Sleeping on the couch.” He licked a trail from her collarbone to her ear and pulled the tiny little lobe between his teeth. Everything had the dry taste of flour.
She moaned. “There’s a sink full of dishes.”
“I’ll do them later. After I do you.”
She laughed, weakly pushing him away. “Tyson, we can’t.”
She was right, of course. He couldn’t take her with Mia right in the other room. But he wanted to. He pressed his hips against her front, searching for some kind of relief and kissed her.
Slowly, he stepped back. “Why don’t you take Mia to bed while I handle these dishes? I’d carry her for you, but I’m a mess and she’s all clean.”
By the time the last dish was scrubbed clean his hard on had settled. Even in high school it hadn’t been like that with other girls. She wrapped him in such. There was so much he wanted to do with her. As his mind ran through a detailed list of all those things his body began to harden again.
Down, boy.
He cleared his throat and returned the bowls to the cabinets as Kat returned in a pair of lounge pants that took her ass from adorable to fascinating. “So how was class?”
“So fun. The teacher’s a local artist. She said I had a good understanding of light and told me to practice on landscapes during different times of the day.”
“Are you going to?” Painting obviously was something she enjoyed and she should nurture that talent.
“If there’s time.”
He closed the cabinet. “Make time, Kat. If you like painting, make room for it in your life.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s hard when you start caring too much about things. Then life happens and it’s harder to make sacrifices.”
“Hey,” he tipped up her chin. “Don’t be cynical.”
“I stopped being optimistic a long time ago.” She was joking, but it wasn’t funny. True sadness rested behind her words.
“Things will get easier, Kat. Everything takes time.” He’d make sure her life got easier. He could afford to help her out here and there. Lightening the mood, he said, “Well, next week we won’t be baking.”
“You’ll sit with Mia again?”
He was a little offended she assumed he wouldn’t. “Of course I will. I told you I would.”
“I know, but…”
“Kat, I’m not a quitter. Tonight was an education. Now, when I have my own kids, I’ll know three year olds are way too young for the culinary arts.”
“You want kids?” her words were whispered, as if his answer meant a lot.
“With the right woman? Of course.” He rested his arms on her shoulders and pulled her close. “I want a big family. How about you?”
Her expression shuttered. “I think Mia’s all I’ll ever have.”
“Why’s that?”
She shrugged. “Guys who are interested in a family of their own don’t usually start with girls like me.”
“That’s an awful lot of generalizing, kitten. I’m a guy who wants a family of his own and I think Mia’s an amazing kid. The last thing I see her as is a deterrent. And as far as girls like you…there aren’t any.”
“Such a sweet talker.” She seemed to be laughing with him, not at him.
“Hey, it’s my style.”
She kissed his chin. “Well, I like your sweet talking style.”