Page 47 of Stolen Dreams
When I reach the kitchen, Tucker is on his stool again, adding salad ingredients to the bowl and narrating his work toKaya. She gives him her undivided attention, asks what he cut, praises his work, and offers to help.
Completely and utterly screwed.
I set out everything for the salad dressing and tell Tucker how to make it. While he and Kaya whip it together, I distract myself with the main entrée—braised Korean short ribs, paprika and lime crushed potatoes, and brown-sugar-glazed, slow-roasted root vegetables. Short ribs have been in the slow cooker since midmorning. Root vegetables went into the oven before I started on the salad. The only thing left is the potatoes.
Carrying the pot of boiled potatoes to the sink, I strain them in the colander. Give them time to cool while I fetch a sheet pan. Then I load them on the pan, grab the potato masher, and crush each one until it’s flat.
In my periphery, I spot the occasional glance from Kaya. The corner of my mouth twitches the longer her gaze lingers. Her unabashed staring while I do what I love is a heady rush. An incomparable high.
I want her twinkling, addictive eyes always on me, only on me.
Pivoting, I grab the sauce pot from the stove and drizzle garlic and herb-clarified butter over the potatoes. Sprinkle them with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper. Then pop them in the oven with the root vegetables.
“Did I do it right?” Tucker tilts the bowl in my direction.
I make a show of inspecting the simple vinaigrette. “It’s perfect, bud.”
“Yes!” He does a small fist pump.
I ruffle his hair, then kiss the top of his head. “Why don’t you show Kaya your room while I clean up.”
“Let me help,” Kaya insists.
Lopsided smile on my face, I shake my head. “Not a chance. You’re our guest. Go.” I tip my head toward Tucker. “Let himshow you around. His room has never been this clean.” I chuckle.
“Are you sure?” Kaya glances at the stack of dishes. “I don’t mind helping. It’s the least I can do.”
“Positive. I’m used to my kitchen messes. I’ll have it cleared in no time.”
Tucker hops off his stool, yanks his apron strings loose and tugs it off over his head. Hanging it back on the hook, he sidles up to Kaya, takes her hand, and starts for the staircase.
“You’re going to love my room, Miss Kaya. Dad let me decorate it with my favorite things. I’ll show you. Come on.”
Just before she rounds the corner, Kaya gives me a what-did-I-get-myself-into smile.
I simply shrug.Good luck.
When their footfalls quiet, I inhale deeply, hold my breath and count to five, then slowly release it. Can’t remember the last time I felt this… discombobulated. Thrown off. Indecisive on whether I should listen to my logic-spewing brain or my wild, exuberant, impulsive heart.
As I clean the kitchen, I mentally scribble a pros and cons list. Mull over worst-case scenarios if things went nowhere or ended with Kaya. Daydream what a real romance would be like—to have a loving, caring partner, someone you feel incomplete without, someone who adores and loves your child as if they were their own.
Pro: Tucker looks up to Kaya. He cares about her opinions. A lot.
Con: If Kaya and I go separate ways for whatever reason, Tucker will be devastated.
Pro: No awkward conversations about being a single dad. No need to explain Tucker will always come first.
Con: With Kaya’s education, she may be more suitable to guide children than parent one. Maybe.
Pro: She’s so damn beautiful. Otherworldly gorgeous.
Con: I have trouble thinking clearly when she is in the room. Which could lead to countless, unwise decisions.
Pro: She is as attracted to me as I am her, and it isn’t swift lust that fades after a short time.
What I feel for Kaya is this perfect blend of magnetism, temptation, and something primal. An undeniable compulsion deep in my bones. An inarguable instinct I can’t shake. An irrefutable urge to make her mine in every way that matters.
Even if it scares me to no end.