I want him to feel like he’s doing this. Who knows, maybe he’s learning. I would’ve loved to learn about the kitchen from my mom, but she wasn’t around to teach me in the same way Max’s mom isn’t here to teach him.
We pour the oil into the mixture, losing a bit on the counter along the way, so I add a splash more for good measure.
We do the same with the sugar and salt. Adding in baking soda and a packet of instant vanilla pudding. No way in hell would I get away with adding instant pudding into a recipe for work, but we’re baking for fun, something I haven’t done in years. And it’s especially fun when Max throws the flour into the bowl and a big flour cloud flies up because of it, coating him in a layer of white.
He laughs hysterically and I can’t help but join him. His messy brown hair is dusted, his shirt is covered, but there’s a giant smile on his face as he tries to suck in enough air to breathe through his laughter.
“Bug, I think we need to get you an apron like mine.”
He giggles some more, and I adore the sound. Sure, his family unit looks a little different than what his friends might have when he gets to school. He’ll probably notice that a lot of kids on TV have two parents, but Max has got it good. He’s happy and I couldn’t want anything more for him.
I peel his shirt off and let him live his best naked toddler life before adding a bit more flour to the mixture. Carrying both him and the bowl, I latch it to the base of the mixer, then let him help me turn it on.
His blue eyes go wide and his little mouth parts when he sees and hears the mixer start up. I don’t watch the ingredients. I only watch him because I can’t get over seeing him experience these things for the first time. There’s so much joy on his sweet face and I find myself feeling the same way.
Happy and excited while baking.
About time I felt that again.
I’m typically a walnut girl when it comes to banana bread, but I opt for chocolate chips on this round. I let him drop them in from above, noting the two he puts into the batter is balanced by the two he shoves into his mouth each time.
I get the Bundt pan into the preheated oven, an odd sense of pride and . . . relief flowing through me because I actually completed a dessert that I have a good feeling I won’t fuck up over the next hour while it bakes.
But then I turn around and see the absolute disaster we made in the kitchen. Max is back by the counter, continuing to eat the chocolate chips I pulled for him, and I can’t help but smile at the view.
My culinary professors would have died if my station were ever this messy in school. I would have been screamed at, berated. I’ve grown a thick skin from my time in the restaurant industry. Cleanliness and organization are rules one and two in the kitchens I contract for. Other than my one single towel I keep over my shoulder, I don’t touch anything. My hair is pulled back tight, my uniform is crisp, and my skin is covered.
But I’ve got a naked baby over here, my hair is messily on top of my head, and I couldn’t feel more like myself.
A little over an hour later, I’ve got a piece sliced for us with butter melting on top when the front door opens. Kai comes strutting in, post-practice, sneaking up on his son from behind.
“Are you nakey?” he asks, tickling Max’s belly and covering his cheeks with kisses.
Max wiggles in his grasp, laughing.
“Naked Maxie, what are you doing?” His dad picks him up, holding him to his chest. Max’s little arms instantly go around his neck and I have to look away so I don’t drool from watching Kai hold his son while wearing that damn backwards hat.
“Hi, Mills,” he says.
I swing my attention back to him. “Hi.”
He’s got Max situated on one incredibly veiny forearm when he uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe the summer sweat from his brow.
He’s got to be freaking kidding with that. How has he not been with anyone since Max came along? All he needs to do is stand at his front door, hold his son, and maybe take his shirt off. All the women in the neighborhood would come running. It’s like watching single dad porn.
“What did you guys make?”
“What?”
An annoyingly smug, but well-deserved smirk slides across his lips. “What did you guys make, Miller?”
“Banana bread.”
His brows lift along with an excited smile. “You finished a new dessert?”
It’s cute how much he wants this for me. He might not understand the ins and out of it all, especially since he’s asking if I’m going to feature banana bread made with instant pudding in my Food & Wine spread, but it’s sweet, nonetheless.
“It’s not new, but I did finish it without burning it so that’s a plus. Max helped too.”
“You did?” Kai asks his son.
Max decides to be shy, but I see the proud little smile he’s wearing.
“Do you want to try it?” I ask.
“Absolutely. Have you had some?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, you have some first then I’ll go in.”
“Why?” I laugh. “Afraid I’m trying to poison you or something?”
“No, but you worked hard on something and didn’t fuuu . . . dge it up in the process. You should try it.”
“I like to bake for other people.”
And I haven’t baked for someone other than critics in far too long. It’s almost as if I forgot that my favorite part of baking is feeding the people I love. I’m not always great at expressing my feelings, so I tend to tell them through their stomachs.
It’s no wonder nothing has worked out lately.
“Max first though,” I say, blowing on a tiny bite to get it ready for him.
He opens his mouth wide for my fork and hums when it hits his tongue.
“Okay with those rave reviews, I think I need some,” Kai cuts in.
I get him another forkful.
“You’re not going to blow on it for me?” He wears a devilish smile, but mine is a whole lot naughtier.
“Oh, I’ll blow something for you. All you have to do is ask.”
“Jesus,” he laughs. “Give me the freaking banana bread.”
I’m not sure why, but I don’t hand him the fork. Instead, I guide it to his mouth, feeding him.
His eyes stay locked on mine, his lips wrapping around the utensil and there’s something so oddly erotic about it all.
“Miller.” He chews, his eyes going wide. “Oh my God, that’s amazing.”
“Really?”
This is what I missed. Seeing the pure joy when the sugar hits someone’s tongue.
“Yes. That’s the best banana bread I’ve ever had. I don’t even know if you should call it bread. It’s more like cake and I want to eat the entire thing.”
“Wow.”
“No, I’m serious. Give me another bite.”
Chuckling, I do just that, feeding him again.
He moans and holy hell if I don’t have to squeeze my legs together at the sound.
“You’ve got to try it,” he insists.
Using the same fork that was in his mouth, I take a bite. I can feel him tracking me as if he’s having the same thought I am about my lips being exactly where his just were.
And wow, he’s right. It is good. It’s really good. I think it might be better than the version I used to make when I was younger.
“You’re right.” I take another bite before reaching up to pinch Max’s exposed belly. “Nice work, Bug.”
Kai’s big hand curves around the back of my neck, pulling my attention to him where I find his gaze all soft. His thumb softly strokes the pulse point on the side of my throat before he gives me a tender squeeze. “Good job, Mills.”
Whoa. An odd rush of emotion sneaks up on me, overwhelming my senses.
What the hell is that about?
I can’t remember the last time I was told I was doing a good job in the kitchen, and Kai said it so matter-of-factly. So confidently. It makes me want to bake more so I can hear it again.
And without a fight, I agree with him. I did do a good job.
Chapter 20
Kai