The Troublemaker - Cathryn Fox Page 0,58
at all the supplies. “That you might think I was a big dork.”
His big belly laugh curls around me. “Well maybe a bit, but did I tell you I liked dorks?” Before I can whack him, his mouth closes over mine for a warm, deeply passionate kiss that makes me forget there is a world beyond him, beyond this moment. But I’m quickly reminded when I hear two sets of feet pounding toward the kitchen. I break the kiss, and work to find my breath as we part, but he doesn’t go far. No, he stays so close to me, a terrible distraction as I open the cake box and reach for a bowl.
“Okay, who wants to pour the mix into the bowl?” I ask the boys.
As Casey pours it and I measure out the water, Cason produces a glass of wine and hands it to me. “I believe white goes with chocolate,” he says, that same intense look on his face again, one that tells me exactly how he plans to taste his chocolate.
My hand almost shakes as I gratefully take it from him, take a sip, and set it on the table.
“How does a lightbulb cook it?” Brandon asks as he pours in the water, and I give Casey a big spoon to stir it.
“Well,” Cason begins and goes into explaining how the heat from the light bulb can cook the cake.
I grin. “It’s almost like you’ve done your research.”
“I know things,” he says like a four-year-old.
I laugh and put my hand on his chest. “Oh, I know. You’re pretty and smart.”
“Guys aren’t pretty,” Brandon says.
“Wrong,” Cason says. “Guys can be whatever they want to be. If they want to be pretty, they can be pretty.” I eye him, so proud of his values and acceptance of everyone, regardless of the color of their hair, piercings, or choices in life. He is such a sweet guy.
“I want to bake cakes,” Casey says.
“Then that’s what you should do,” I tell him and hand him the beater. It’s big in his hand, so I help him hold it, and soon enough, I give Brandon a turn. It’s easy to tell how much they’re enjoying this whole process by the looks on their faces, although they could just be excited because the end prize is, you know…cake.
Once they finish mixing, I remove the beaters and hand one over to each child. They eagerly lick them. “No eggs, no worries,” I say to Cason.
“Not worried,” he says, and I like how much he trusts me.
“This is yummy,” Casey says and I take the batter and pour a bit into each tiny tray.
“Do we each get our own cake?” Brandon asks.
“Yes,” I tell him and his eyes light up.
“Mommy would never let me eat a whole cake.”
“Just don’t go telling your mother you ate a whole chocolate cake. She’ll kill me,” Cason says with a laugh.
“Tell her it was a tiny cake and she won’t mind.” I slide the cakes into the oven, and the boys keep their eyes glued to the little screen as the lightbulb bakes it.
“I think they really enjoyed that.”
“But you didn’t get to play,” I say and raise my wine glass to my mouth. “I’m happy to have the boys here and I love their fascination, but I wanted you to play with it, too.” I take a mouthful of sweet wine.
“After they go to bed I’ll play with it,” he says and I nearly choke.
“Are you okay, Aunt Kinsley?” Brandon asks with a frown. My heart melts a little with his concern. He’s going to grow up to be a wonderful man like his father and his uncle and I’m trying to focus on that more than on the fact that he called me his aunt, and it’s possible that’s the sweetest and scariest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m their aunt, sure. But for how much longer?
Cason steps away to grab a beer, and with my heart pounding a little harder, I rip into the icing sugar and grab the cocoa.
“Who’s ready for the icing?” A strange groan crawls out of Cason’s throat and I whack him and turn to the boys.
“Me, me,” they both chant in unison and I laugh at the chocolate all over their faces. I don’t think they’ll be winding down anytime soon after all this sugar, but that’s okay. I’m enjoying my time with them and plan to take advantage of every second of it.
We all work together on making the icing,