A Christmas Bride - By Susan Mallery Page 0,3
since she was big enough to drag it into the house. Now she carried it more easily. The time might even come when she couldn’t be bothered, preferring to spend her time with her friends. But that was for later. Right now, he was a blessed man.
Kaitlyn led the way into the house. The smell of freshly baked cookies mingled with the spice of marinara sauce. Noah, their sheltie, raced to greet him. A female—despite her name—Noah circled around his legs in an attempt to get closer and express her joy about yet another pack member returning.
“Hey, you,” he said, scooping up the dog.
Noah bathed his face in ecstatic kisses. When he lowered her to the ground, she ran off to get her ball.
Rina stepped out of the kitchen.
“Hi,” she said, her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Is Athena all right?”
He nodded. “She feels better than Heidi, who’s still feeling guilty about what happened. They should both be back to normal by the morning.”
Big blue eyes crinkled slightly as she smiled. Cooking had added color to her cheeks, making her look flushed. Her mouth was full and inviting and the way she moved...
Out of long habit, Cameron pushed away “those” kind of thoughts. Sure, Rina was beautiful and funny and great with his daughter. But while he liked her company and liked having her around, he wasn’t ready for a long-term relationship. He wasn’t going to let something as fleeting and confusing as romantic involvement with Rina get in the way of his daughter’s happiness.
He’d thought he loved his ex. She’d stunned him by leaving with no warning. But in the panicked few weeks that had followed her departure, in the reality of caring for a newborn while trying to keep his practice alive, he hadn’t had time to miss his wife. Or maybe he hadn’t loved her at all. Either way, by the time he’d resurfaced, his life slightly under control, he no longer regretted her leaving.
Lesson learned, he reminded himself. Friendship he could understand and trust. Rina was his friend. One of his best friends. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure that didn’t change.
“I told Daddy he could help with the cookies,” Kaitlyn said, walking to the sink to wash her hands without being asked.
Rina grinned. “Did you? Do you think he’ll do a good job?”
“I have some creative skills,” Cameron told her, shrugging out of his jacket.
“Maybe you could audition,” Rina told him. “Do one and if we think it’s all right, you can do a second.”
His daughter burst out laughing. “She’s kidding, Daddy. You can decorate as many cookies as you want.”
“Thank you, baby girl.” He walked by Rina. “I’ll deal with you later,” he growled in a low voice.
She glanced at him, then looked away. But in the split second when her gaze locked with his, he would have sworn he saw something. A spark. No, bigger than a spark, because whatever it was hit him hard in the gut. It made him think about being alone with her in a dark, quiet room. Just the two of them and all the time in the world. It made him want to hold her in his arms and kiss her. And more.
He shook off the moment, telling himself it was just the season. Holidays were a time for belonging. While Kaitlyn was amazing, she was his kid, not his partner. Maybe it was time for him to start dating.
He went to the sink to wash his hands, then he and Kaitlyn set the table. When the oven timer went off, he removed the garlic bread and put it on a plate. The dance of preparing dinner was a familiar one, formed over the past year. Rina stirred the sauce, while he dumped the cooked spaghetti into a colander. She combined pasta and sauce, then brought the serving bowl to the table while he poured Kaitlyn’s milk and a glass of wine for Rina and for himself. Noah settled into her bed in the corner of the kitchen, a dog biscuit held delicately in her teeth.
“Maybe we could get our tree this weekend,” Kaitlyn said, her voice faintly pleading.
“It’s a little early,” Rina told her, passing the garlic bread. “There’s a new delivery coming in next Thursday. They’ll be fresh. I love that smell.”
“Me, too,” his daughter said. “You’re right. We should wait. If it’s fresh, we can keep it up through New Year’s.”
Conversation flowed around him. A