The Troublemaker - Cathryn Fox Page 0,57

believe you did this.” He lets go of Casey’s hand and the little boy saunters over, examining the machine like it’s the eighth wonder of the world. That makes me laugh. Kids today are so hooked on video games they have no idea how much fun these old things were. Although, all the offspring of all the Seattle Shooters who are here this weekend aren’t plunked in front of the television. No, they’re outside playing and swimming and fishing. If I ever had kids, these are the ones I’d want them to be playing with.

My stomach takes that moment to squeeze. Yes. I want kids. I want them with the man who is staring at me with warmth and appreciation. The world closes in a little, the room growing smaller, as part of me thinks it’s quite possible that I could have it all with this man, considering the way he’s staring at me.

“Cason…” He blinks as if to take himself out of his trance, and a stupid measure of worry, thanks to past experiences, seeps under my skin. Did I make a mistake? Am I reading him wrong? Is this just silly? “Do you no—”

“I love it,” he says, and I fold my arms around myself, loving that word on his tongue. “How…when? We traveled here together.”

I chuckle. “I hid it on the floor of the backseat.”

“I had no idea.”

“See, you’re not the only one full of surprises.”

“How does it work?” Brandon asks, and I look at his big curious blue eyes.

“Well, it works like a real oven, but it’s made for kids, so they get to bake but don’t risk burning themselves with a real oven.”

“I want to bake,” Casey says.

I ruffle his hair. “Good. I’m going to teach you how.”

Cason still hasn’t come into the kitchen. He continues to watch me from the doorway, and my heart still in my throat continues to pound. I can barely catch my breath as he watches me with warm, appreciative, yet fascinated eyes, like I might have just solved world hunger. The Easy Bake Oven won’t do that, but wow, I do love the way this man looks at me. It teases me in ways that makes me think he might want more.

“Are you going to join us?” I ask Cason and he takes a step closer. My breath catches simply from the way he moves. He gets closer and his warm scent washes over me. He steps behind me, his fingers trailing over my lower back, telegraphing a secret message between lovers. He likes this, and he’s going to make sure he shows me how much later.

I can’t wait.

“What do we do?” Brandon asks.

“Have you baked before, Brandon?” I ask.

“I made cookies with Mommy.”

“Can we make cookies?” Casey asks, his big eyes wide. My heart almost hurts as I look at his cute, eager face.

“Is cake okay?” I ask.

Casey nods. “I like cake.”

“How about chocolate icing?”

“I like chocolate icing,” Cason says and I get the sneaking suspicion that it’s not the cake he wants iced up—it’s me. There is nothing I can do to suppress the hard quake going through me and he grins, knowing very well why.

“I’ll let you lick the beaters then.”

“I want to lick the beaters,” Brandon says.

Casey climbs onto a chair. “Me, too.”

“Okay, you boys can have the beaters,” Cason says as he looks at me, his eyes indicating he has much more interesting things to lick.

“Okay, let’s get started,” I say. “First we wash up. You boys run to the bathroom. Use lots of soap. I want squeaky clean hands when you get back.”

They dash to the bathroom and my head spins as Cason pulls me to him in a fast tug, aligning my pelvis with his. “I can’t believe you did this!”

I shrug and look at the old green oven. My insides are alive, my thoughts jumbled as he gazes at me with heat, and something that might possibly be….love.

Do I dare hope?

“You said you always wanted one. I thought this would be fun. I don’t know if it will turn out all that great with the bigger mix, but it should be okay, and I hope you like chocolate. Actually who doesn’t like chocolate, right?” A wobbly grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as I ramble. Oh God, what is he thinking? “What?” I ask.

“You’re kind of adorable.”

I let loose a relieved laugh. “That’s better than what I thought you might be thinking.”

“What did you think I was thinking?”

I glance