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Then, she offers Birdie an ice cream scoop and shows her how to plop dough onto a lined baking sheet.

“That’s not ours.” I nod to the contraption.

“No. I brought it from home, just like the chocolate chips, butter, and cream cheese.” Sofia blinks meaningfully at me. “Didn’t know what you had, so I wanted to make sure. Birdie and I talked about cookies last time I was here.”

I linger, liking the initiative she’s taken to connect with my daughter. How she’s perfectly at ease showing her how to fill the baking sheet. How well behaved Noah is as he waits his turn. He does sneak a taste of the baking soda, though, and his face is one of regret, but he doesn’t cry or throw a fit.

Sofia helps him to the sink to rinse his mouth out, and they giggle together.

I’m behind her, setting my spoon in the sink.

She turns to smile at me. “I’ll bring you one when they’re ready.”

Nodding, I say, “I appreciate it.”

I back away to close myself in the office again. Leaning my forehead against the door and wiping a hand down my face, I tell myself that I need to get my shit together.

Rubbing my beard, I march back to my desk and pull up my presentation. I can put words on slides at the least with my brain the way it is. It proves to be a good distraction. Getting everything into a project before I start the formatting and design elements is always my process. Easier to fit a design around what I have rather than forcing what I have into a design.

Once I have everything input, there’s a knock at my door. “Come in.”

Sofia peeks in through a crack and holds up a cookie on a napkin.

I wave her forward and enjoy the way she takes stock of the room. It’s simple—maple bookshelves along one wall, a U-shaped desk in the corner for me and my double monitors, the pile of papers, and some lingering projects I’ve kept for inspiration. My bank of filing cabinets sits along the half wall beside the window.

Her smile is put-on innocence as she presents me with the cookie. Our fingers brush, and this time, I don’t fight the heat it causes.

Blue eyes darken as her pupils widen.

That tension returns.I’m not just imagining it.

Sofia bites her lip. “Dinner will be ready in a half hour. Just a heads up.”

I nod. “Thank you, Sofia.”

“No problem.” She winks and spins in place to saunter out of my office and close the door quietly behind herself with one last glance over her shoulder.

Fuck, I’m half hard just from that much of her attention. I adjust myself and take a bite of the cookie. God, it’s still warm. The chocolate is melted in the soft, gooey center.

I sit in the stupor of devouring this treat as slowly as possible before I turn back to my presentation.

True to her word, Sofia knocks again twenty-seven minutes later to tell me dinner’s ready. I follow her out with only a slight hesitation.

Birdie is setting the table. I’ll have to pay Sofia extra for cooking. We could have easily ordered something.

“Dad. Did you get a cookie?”

“I did.”

“They aresogood. Aren’t they? Noah has some serious baking skills. He can scoop cookie dough so much better than I can.” She sets the last plate on the table and smiles at the boy, who is climbing into a chair and beaming at her.

“I like cookies,” he says.

“You like food, Goblin.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He nods with emphasis, and I like him. I like having both of them here and how familiar this feels.

“A man after my own heart. I also like food.” I pat my stomach and catch the face Sofia pulls.