Single Mum Seeking...: A Daddy for Her Sons / Marriage for Her Baby / Single Mom Seeks...

“We’ve got to get these done by noon,” she told him. “I can’t start the mini Bundts any later than that. We’ve got to get the minis done by three, glazed and packed by four-thirty, and off for delivery by five.”

He nodded. He knew she wasn’t completely resigned to him being there with her. This was her biggest day and her eyes betrayed how worried she was. Her shoulders looked tight. She wasn’t confident that they could do it, even working hard together.

He only hoped he could—what? Help her? That went without saying. Protect her? Sure. That was his main goal. Always had been. If only he’d realized earlier that his vague distrust of Brad was based on more than jealousy. It seemed to be real in ways that were only now becoming more and more clear to him. It was a good thing she’d reconciled herself to accepting his help, because he knew he couldn’t go. He couldn’t leave her on her own. He had to be here for her.

Meanwhile, he had to find a way to wear out the boys. He tried to recall his own childhood, but eighteen months old was a little too far back to remember much. Still, he had a few ideas.

He took the boys out into the backyard. There was a big sloping hill covered with grass. Improvising, he set up a racetrack with different stations where the boys had to perform simple modified gymnastic elements in order to move on to the next station.

They loved it. They each had a natural competitive spirit that came out in spades as they began to understand the goals involved. Each wanted to win with a naive gusto that made him laugh out loud. They were a great pair of twins.

They were so into it. Running up the hill took a lot of their time. Shrieking with excitement was a factor. And Connor found he was having as much fun as they were.

At one point, he had them racing uphill, each pulling a red wagon filled with rocks to see who could get to the top first. He’d brought along lots of prizes, including pieces of hard candy that they loved. He knew they were sure to rot teeth, but he would only use them today and never again. Or not often, anyway. He also made sure to keep the winnings pretty equal between the two of them, so that each could shine in turn.

But, as he told Jill a bit later, the one drawback was—no matter how tired he made them, he was even more so. He was pitifully out of shape.

But it was fun. That was the surprising part. The boys were a couple of great kids, both so eager, so smart. He wondered what Brad would think if he could see them. How could he possibly resist these two?

He brought them back in and settled them down to watch an educational DVD while he went down to the kitchen to see what he could do to help Jill. She had recently pulled four cakes out of the oven and she was ready to put on a glaze.

“Show me how,” he told her. “You’re going to need help when you glaze all those small cakes for the engagement party, aren’t you?”

She looked at him with some hesitation, and he saw it right away. Reaching out, he took her hands in his.

“Jill, I’m not here to take over,” he said. “I don’t expect to start making decisions or judging you. I’m here to do anything you tell me to do. You talk. I’ll listen.”

She nodded, feeling a little chagrined. She knew he meant well. He was just here to help her. Why couldn’t she calm her fears and let him do just that?

As she glanced up, her gaze met his and she had an impulse that horrified her. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, close her eyes and hold on tightly.

The same thing she’d felt before when he’d held her came back in a wave and she felt dizzy with it. She wanted his warmth and his comfort, wanted it with a fierce craving that ached inside her. She couldn’t give in to that feeling. Turning away quickly, she hoped he couldn’t see it in her eyes.

She was just feeling weak and scared. That was what it had to be. She couldn’t let herself fall into that trap.

“Okay. I’m going to teach you everything I know about putting on a glaze,” she said resolutely. “And believe me, it’s simple. We’ll start with a basic sugar glaze. You’ll pick it up in no time at all.”

He learned fast and she went ahead and taught him how to make a caramel glaze as well, including tricks on how not to let the sugar burn and how to roast the chopped pecans before you added them to make them crisper and more flavorful. She then showed him how to center the cakes on the lacy doilies she used in the fancy boxes she packed the cakes in before transporting them.

“Each cake should look like it’s a work of art on its own,” she told him. “Never ever let a cake look like you just shoved it into a box to get it where it needs to go. They should look like they’re being carried in a golden coach, on their way to the ball.”

He grinned. “Cinderella cakes?”

“Exactly. They have to look special. Otherwise, why not pick up a cake at the grocery store?”

That was when his phone rang. It made him jerk. He knew before he even looked at the screen who it was. Brad. Brad wondering how things were going. Brad, wondering if he’d talked her into committing to his plan. Brad, trying to control everything, just like always.

He put the phone on vibrate and shoved it into his pocket.

Once they’d finished the glazing, he went back to babysitting, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the boys. They looked so good, he made one for himself. Then he raided the refrigerator and made a cool, crisp salad for Jill.

“Lunchtime,” he told her, once he’d set the boys down to eat at their little table in their playroom.

She gave one last look at her boxed creations, snuck a peek at the new cakes in the oven and turned to him with a smile.

“So far, so good,” she said as she sat down across from him at the kitchen table. “Though one disaster can throw the whole schedule off.”

“Relax,” he said. “No disaster would dare ruin this day for you.”

“Knock on wood,” she said, doing just that. She took a bite of salad and made a noise of pleasure. “Ah! This is so refreshing.” She cocked her head to the side. “The boys are being awfully good.”

He nodded. “So it seems. I gave them their sandwiches.”

She frowned. “You left them alone with food?”

“They seemed to be doing great when I looked in on them.” He glanced toward the doorway. “Though they sure seem quiet.”

Jill’s eyes widened. “Too quiet,” she cried, vaulting out of her chair and racing for the playroom. Visions of peanut butter masterpieces smeared on walls and teddy bears covered in sticky jam shot through her head.

Connor came right behind her. He didn’t have as much experience with what might go wrong, but he could imagine a few things himself.

They skidded around the corner and into the room, only to find a scene of idyllic contentment. The peanut butter sandwiches were half eaten and lay on the table. The boys were completely out, both lying in haphazard fashion wherever they were when sleep snuck up on them. Jill turned and grinned at him.

“You did wear them out. Wow.”

They lifted them carefully and put them down in the travel cribs that sat waiting against the far wall. Jill pulled light covers over each of them and they tiptoed out of the room and back to the kitchen.

“They look like they’ll sleep for hours,” she said hopefully.

“Maybe days,” he added to the optimism, but she laughed.

“Doubtful. Besides, we’ll miss them if they stay away that long.”

“Will we?” he questioned, but he was smiling. He believed her.

She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got time for a nice long lunch,” she said. “Maybe fifteen whole minutes. Those cakes have to be delivered by noon, but the church hall where they’re going is only two blocks away. So let’s sit down and enjoy a break.”

She watched as he settled in across from her and began to eat his sandwich. She was so glad he’d talked her into letting him stay to help. Without him, she would surely be chasing her children up and down the stairs by now, with cakes burning in the background. She raised her glass of iced tea at him.

“To Connor McNair, life saver,” she said. “Hip, hip, hooray.”

He laughed. “Your Bundt cakes aren’t all out of the fire yet,” he told her with a crooked grin. “Don’t count your chickens too soon.”

“Of course not. I just wanted to acknowledge true friendship when it raises its furry head.”

He shook his head and had to admit it was almost as covered with curls as hers. “Anytime,” he told her, then tried to warble it as a tune. “Anytime you need me, I’ll be there.”

Her gaze caught his and she smiled and whispered, “Don’t get cocky, kid.”