She just stopped herself from biting her lip before saying, “I don’t think so, sweetheart. It mostly involves the stove and oven and that’s probably not safe.”
Sally’s face fell.
Instantly, Isabella felt like a screaming bitch.
“Maybe you can scoop out the ice cream for dessert,” she offered.
“We’re having pudding?”Sally screeched and her effervescence so surprised and charmed Isabella that she couldn’t stop herself from laughing.
“Yes, honey, you’re having pudding,” Isabella replied and stopped, glanced apprehensively at Prentice then back at Sally. “If it’s okay with your Dad.”
Sally whirled to her father. “Can we have pudding? Can we, can we, can we?”
“Books in your room,” Prentice answered. “We’ll talk about pudding later.”
Sally beamed then leaned toward Isabella and confided in a (very) loud whisper, “Daddy’d have said no right away if we weren’t having pudding.”
Isabella chuckled and then, all of a sudden, Sally threw her arms around Isabella’s legs.
She froze.
It had been a long time since anyone had touched her with spontaneous affection and she didn’t know if she’d ever, in her life, been hugged by a child.
It felt good.
Really good.
Lost in Sally, Isabella’s hand lifted and she lightly stroked the girl’s soft, beautiful hair.
Sally threw her head back, gave Isabella a sunny smile then dashed from the room.
Isabella watched her then her eyes moved to Prentice.
He looked ready to commit murder.
Oh dear again.
Before he could blow, Isabella spoke, “I need a word. Can you close the door?”
Prentice didn’t hesitate; by all appearances he needed a word too.
Or maybe several of them.
When the door clicked and he turned, Isabella quickly launched in, “The sundaes are Annie’s idea. So is all the food in your kitchen. She went shopping with me and got a little carried away.”
Prentice just stared at her but she was pleased to see he didn’t look like he wanted to strangle her anymore.
“She’s prone to doing that,” Isabella went on.
Prentice continued staring at her then he said on a sigh, “Aye, she is.”
Isabella couldn’t help it, it looked like she was getting away with it and she allowed herself a small smile.
Prentice’s eyes narrowed on her mouth.
She stopped smiling.
Then she started talking. “I’ll make dinner and then come up here. I’ll tell the kids I have jetlag or something. The hot fudge is already made, in the covered pot on the stove, you just have to heat it up and pour it over the ice cream. There’s whipped cream and cherries and I chopped up some nuts…” She hesitated when his face changed in a way she couldn’t read but she valiantly forged ahead mostly in order to get this over with, “If they like that kind of thing.” She paused again and he remained silent. “Nuts, that is.” More silence. “Kind of the All-American sundae.”