caught the faint scent of chocolate chip cookie, and his mind went immediately to his youngest brother. Logan had been baking since he was a kid. In fact, Jake and Brooke had made their way quickly through a batch of Logan’s oatmeal scotchies just last week.
“Me and Daddy cleaned it,” Brooke continued.
“Impressive,” Millie called over her shoulder.
“You haven’t seen it yet,” he answered and took the handle of her wheeled suitcase in his uninjured hand. He was glad Millie and Brooke had already disappeared toward the back of the house, since his progress was slow and not so steady as he balanced her luggage on his good side.
Eventually he made it to the back half of the house, where there was a bedroom, a bathroom and small sitting area. Sara had found this house for him to rent. He was grateful for her forethought in making sure it contained enough space for live-in help. Clearly she hadn’t underestimated his postsurgical needs the way he had.
A bead of sweat trickled between his shoulder blades, another reminder of his weakness. Brooke popped out of the bedroom, beckoning him with a large swipe of her arm. “In here, Daddy.”
Daddy.
She used the word so freely, although he’d done nothing to earn it. Of course, he knew how little that meant in the grand scheme of things. If the name father was given based on merit, Jake’s dad would have had the title stripped from him decades before he’d died.
He poked his head in the room but didn’t enter. Something about stepping into Millie Spencer’s temporary bedroom felt as if it might mean more than he wanted it to.
“Does everything seem okay?” he asked, looking all around except where Millie was perched at the edge of the bed.
She stood quickly, her attention focused on brushing the quilt smooth. Apparently he wasn’t the only one affected by the unexpected intimacy of the moment.
“Perfect.” Her voice squeaked just a little, making him smile. She glanced at her watch. “Do you have plans for dinner?”
“Pizza,” Brooke yelled. “Can Fairy Poppins eat with us, Daddy?”
He saw Millie stifle a laugh. “You can call me Millie, Brooke.”
“Millie Poppins?”
“Just Millie.”
“What do you like on your pizza, Ms. Poppins?” he asked when Brooke’s face fell.
“Don’t you start now.” Millie made a face. “And I’m fine with anything.”
“Bacon and pepperoni,” Brooke shouted.
“Inside voice,” Millie told her.
Brooke crossed her arms over her chest. He hadn’t known his daughter long, but already he could see a temper tantrum brewing. “She gets excited about pizza,” he explained to Millie.
“Inside voice,” she repeated, and suddenly he realized that Fairy Poppins had more backbone than he’d expected.
“We have pizza a lot,” Brooke told Millie. Jake noticed that her decibel level had lowered a few notches. One point, Millie Spencer.
“Tomorrow we’ll go to the grocery store.” Millie ruffled Brooke’s hair then turned to Jake. “Do you have peanut butter?”
“Um...yes.”
Brooke shook her head. “Pizza and peanut butter don’t go.”
“It’s for the gum in your hair,” Millie told her. “We’ll work on that after dinner.”
“Mommy didn’t let me have gum.” Brooke stuck her fingers in her mouth, sucking hard.
“I bet you miss her very much,” Millie said softly, bending to Brooke’s level.
Brooke went totally still, but swiped the hand that wasn’t occupied across her eyes.
Jake cleared his throat. “Millie’s going to unpack now, Brooke. Would you help me order the pizza?”
She didn’t move. Although it had happened only a couple of times since he’d picked her up from Stacy’s parents, it scared the pants off Jake when she got like this. He knew what it was like to be paralyzed with emotion. “If you come with me, we’ll get cinnamon sticks for dessert.”
The promise of sugar broke the spell. She nodded and wiped her fingers on the front of her purple cotton dress. Without a word, she lifted her still-glistening hand to him. He swallowed and took it, once again dumbfounded that she trusted him so completely.
Millie stared at him, her hands clutched to her chest.
“We have a lot to talk about,” he told her.
“Yes,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.
“Pizza first,” Brooke yelled, then repeated in a lower tone, “Pizza first.”
“Pizza first,” he agreed and led his daughter out of the room.
* * *
While Jake tucked Brooke in for bed later that night, Millie found a bottle of wine pushed to the back of the refrigerator and poured a tall glass. She wasn’t a big drinker by nature but definitely needed some liquid fortification before talking to Jake Travers alone.
She took out a second glass as he came into the kitchen.
“I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself,” she said, turning to him.
“Knock yourself out,” he answered.
If only it were that easy.
“Would you like a glass?”
He shook his head. “I take one pain pill a day when Brooke goes to bed. It doesn’t mix well with alcohol.”
“How much pain are you in?”
“It’s not that bad,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “It gets worse when I’m on my feet a lot or don’t take time to rest.”
“Which you don’t, being a full-time father.”
Stretching the splinted arm out in front of him, Jake curled his fingers a few times. “I have an appointment with the doctor tomorrow morning then physical therapy. I’ve had to cancel my last two appointments because Brooke wouldn’t stay with anyone and I didn’t want to take her with me.”
“She’s really bonded to you.”
He looked at her now. The intensity in his gaze almost knocked her over. “It blows me away. I have no idea what I’m doing, and she doesn’t care one bit.”
“You’re trying,” Millie answered. “That counts for a lot.”
His eyes narrowed, studying her. Millie
