figure it out.”
“Wow. Now I really am impressed,” Elle said.
“Don’t be. You haven’t seen my french braids. But I can make fairly decent pancakes.”
Elle stood back from the door. “Your griddle awaits.”
* * *
The kitchen that normally seemed so large suddenly felt tiny as Elle maneuvered around Brody’s tall body and Mandy’s short one. Although Mandy wasn’t making her pulse race the way Brody was every time his arm brushed hers or their hips bumped into each other.
Brody started the bacon frying while Elle and Mandy cracked eggs into a bowl. They had already spent ten minutes cooing over and cuddling the puppies before washing their hands and getting down to the business of breakfast.
They worked well together, each doing separate tasks that contributed to the whole meal process. Mandy found the griddle and plugged it in. Elle pulled the pancake ingredients from the cupboards as Brody called them out and mixed them together. Familiar with being at Bryn’s house, Mandy found plates and silverware to set the table while the griddle heated.
“We need some music,” Mandy said. “Dad, you should play your pancake party playlist.”
“Your what playlist?” Elle asked, barely holding back a laugh.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “What? You don’t have a pancake party playlist?”
She pressed her lips together, the giggles building in her throat. “No, but I should. I can’t wait to hear yours.”
He pulled out his phone and connected to the Bluetooth speaker sitting on Bryn’s counter. The cheerful strains of a popular pop song blared from the speaker. He offered her a slow head bob and a flirty grin. “This is my pancake-making jam.”
The laugh finally burst free. “Nice. Are those your pancake-mixing moves too?”
“You know it. I call this one the hotcake.” He moved his arms in a wave. “It’s all groove, baby.”
Mandy jumped in front of him, getting in on the game with a wild wiggle of her hips followed by a straight-armed clap. “And I call this one the flapjack.”
Elle twirled her arm in the air. “This is my spatula-spin step.”
Brody chuckled as he shook his head. “That’s weak. You’re going to have to try harder if you want to make it into this elite dance club.”
“Spin me, Dad,” Mandy said, grabbing Brody’s hand and twirling under his arm. “We can call this move the mixer.” She giggled as he spun her around, then dropped his hand and pointed to Elle. “Now spin, Elle.”
He held out his hand and Elle hesitated for just a second, then—Oh, what the heck?—slid her hand into his outstretched palm. Her heart felt dizzy as he spun her under his arm, her body brushing against his, the scent of his aftershave surrounding her with each turn.
She’d noted the scent the night before, something woodsy and masculine. He’d also smelled like smoke, but the hint of his aftershave was still there as she’d stepped into the circle of his arms and pressed into him. It had been an impulse move, she hadn’t planned to hug him. But once she’d gone in, she had to commit. And it had been worth it.
She’d found herself wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him tighter than she’d anticipated, shutting her eyes as she sank into the warmth and comfort of his arms. It had been so long since she’d taken comfort from a man’s arms. But with Brody, it had felt easy. Just like talking to him had been. And how spending time with him and Mandy felt this morning.
The kiss. Now that was something else entirely. Had he meant to brush her lips? Or was it an innocent buss on the cheek, and she’d blown it by turning her head? Had her body betrayed her, veering in at the last second in hopes of connecting to his mouth? Had she wanted him to kiss her? She couldn’t imagine that. He was cute and a great listener, and he had big, solid shoulders and great hands, and he was funny. But she wasn’t looking for any of that. She’d had her shot. And it had been taken away. And she didn’t think she could withstand even another ounce of grief. So why was she letting Brody spin her around the kitchen and inhaling his aftershave like it was the scent of a fresh summer day?
Mandy cheered and clapped her hands, twirling around as her body wiggled and shook to the music. “Woo-hoo! Dance party mayhem!” She scooped a handful of flour off the counter and tossed it into the