Page 21 of The Live-In Temptation (Steele Brothers of Starlight Cove #2)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHLOE

If I just focused on the damn muffins, I wouldn’t have to think about Xander. And if I didn’t think about Xander, everything would be fine .

That was what I’d been telling myself all morning since I’d woken up from yet another dream featuring the dark-haired, green-eyed devil I couldn’t seem to escape.

I’d needed something— anything —to distract me. Because thinking about Xander, about the kiss that had melted my brain, the complete radio silence afterward as if nothing had happened, and then the way he’d watched me at One Night Stan’s…as if I were his —wasn’t helping anything.

Certainly not my mental state.

Muffins were the infinitely safer choice. They made sense. I could handle muffins. As long as I followed the recipe, muffins did exactly what was expected of them.

They certainly didn’t kiss you like they’d waited decades for the honor, blow you off like it was nothing, attempt to incinerate a guy flirting with you by using only their eyes, and then conveniently flee the next morning for a twenty-four-hour shift.

So yeah.

Muffins were my focus. And the reason I’d decided to go full breakfast scientist when I’d woken up this morning.

I’d been testing theories for almost three weeks—ever since that breakfast disaster on day one—trying to crack the case of Emma’s elusive appetite.

It was so strange because she ate fine literally every other time of the day.

It was just breakfast that held the hiccups.

Which led me to believe Emma wasn’t looking for a specific ingredient.

She was aching for something else—a moment or a memory, maybe.

And I desperately wanted to help her find it.

This morning, I’d pored over the suggestion box she’d been filling with various renditions of the same thing—a muffin with what I’d assumed was a ponytail sticking out the top, just like I’d made that first day.

But yesterday, she’d colored it yellow and added sparks all around it, and suddenly, I knew.

It wasn’t a damn ponytail. It was a candle .

And maybe that memory she’d been craving.

“Okay, bug,” I called. “Time for breakfast!”

I heard her sigh all the way from the other room, followed by the tiny patter of her feet, until she stopped short at the entryway to the kitchen. Her eyes lit up as she darted her gaze around before focusing on where I stood.

“Thank you so much for choosing to dine at Doodlebug’s Café,” I said in my horrible French accent. “It is my absolute pleasure to introduce you to the Breakfast Cupcake Creation Station!”

She grinned as I grabbed her little apron and slipped it over her head before tying it at her back.

I gestured to the spread on the table. “Please proceed right this way for decorations, candle selection, and wish deployment.”

She gasped and looked at me, eyes wide and hopeful. “Can we light the candle?”

“Definitely.”

“Can I make a wish?”

“Of course. I don’t know about you, but I think wishes should happen more than once a year.”

A smile swept across her face—bold and bright and vibrant—and her pure happiness stitched up a part of my heart I didn’t even know was broken. “That’s what Mommy used to say!”

I felt the weight of her words settle deep inside.

Warmth bloomed in my chest and only continued to grow as she decorated her muffin.

She worked so hard to find the perfect balance of sprinkles and strawberry Greek yogurt disguised as frosting, her tongue poking out between her teeth as she decorated.

Once she was satisfied, she studied the assortment of candles I’d set out, picking the one I’d guessed she would.

It was a unicorn on its hind legs, posed like it was jumping over a rainbow, the wick poking out of its horn.

“Excellent choice, Miss Emma,” I said, slipping into that awful French accent again. “If you please, take your seat.”

I pulled out the chair for her, and she scrambled up, eyes bright with excitement as I set her breakfast cupcake in front of her. After placing the unicorn candle in the top of the muffin, I grabbed the matchbook and lit the candle, grinning as her eyes sparkled in the flame.

“Time for your wish, bug.”

She closed her eyes tight, her lips moving silently on her wish, and then she blew out the candle before turning her beaming smile on me. “I did it!”

“You sure did.” I squatted down to her level. “That was a great wish. I can tell.”

She bit her lip and nodded before glancing at the unicorn candle, the tip of the horn partially melted away. Worry crept into her eyes. “What happens when the horn’s all gone? Does that mean no more wishes?”

“Absolutely not. Because your LoLee is prepared.” I grabbed the bag from the party supply store and overturned it onto the table, two dozen unicorn candles scattering across the top. “This should keep us in business for a few years.”

Emma clapped and squealed, her laughter contagious. And then she did the most amazing thing—she devoured the muffin, not leaving a single bite.

After she’d finished the entire thing and grinned proudly at me, I nearly cried. Nearly . But I didn’t.

Because crying was something you did when you were attached, and I definitely wasn’t attached.

I was just happy. Satisfied. Proud. Of her. Of me.

And that deserved a dance party, complete with karaoke.

“It’s time to celebrate, bug!” I called as I spun into the kitchen, grabbed a whisk like a mic, and launched into an off-key rendition of “Walking on Sunshine.”

Emma joined in—belting out gibberish lyrics and dancing next to me like we were headlining at Coachella. My cheeks hurt from smiling as we sang and danced, our socks slipping on the hardwood floor and her laughter filling the house.

And for once, my focus was blessedly not on Xander.

At least until the front door opened, and in he strolled, his presence hitting the air like gravity shifting.

Even after a twenty-four-hour shift, he looked like sex on a stick in his uniform pants and a department tee under the coat he shrugged off.

And good god . The way that T-shirt clung to him, molding around those biceps and broad shoulders and that chest I just knew would be firm and solid, should have been illegal.

I froze, the whisk halfway to my mouth, the off-key note dying in my throat.

He blinked once, then looked from me to Emma before shifting his gaze to the mess of the kitchen. And then—God help me—he smiled. Or what passed for a smile in Xanderville anyway.

Just the corner of his lips tilted the tiniest bit.

Just enough to make my stomach drop-kick my ribs.

“Morning,” he said, his voice low and rough in a way that shot straight through me.

“Morning,” I said casually. As if he didn’t affect me at all. As if he hadn’t just caught me making a fool of myself.

“Looks like I missed quite the show.”

“And you missed breakfast cupcakes, Daddy!” Emma raced toward him, and he scooped her up before she could crash into his legs.

He toed off his boots, then walked into the kitchen, brow raised. “Cupcakes? I thought those were muffins.”

I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “They’re breakfast cupcakes when we’re feeling fancy.”

“And when they have a candle!” Emma said.

I dipped my chin in a nod. “The most important part. And the missing clue in the case of Emma’s elusive appetite.”

He raised his brows, looking from her to the demolished plate in front of her seat at the table, then to me, a silent question hanging in the air between us.

“She ate,” I confirmed, my voice catching for some dumb reason. It wasn’t like I’d discovered a Taylor Swift easter egg or anything. I’d just gotten a little girl to eat. “Every bit. Happily.”

His whole face softened then, relief and gratitude and something else I couldn’t quite name settling over him.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured before pressing a kiss to Emma’s temple. “Did you help LoLee with this breakfast cupcake decorating station?”

“Yeah!” Emma pushed to get down from his arms, then grabbed his hand and tugged. “Come on! I’ll make you one too!”

He didn’t even hesitate as he allowed her to pull him to the table and guide him to sit down. She dashed around the space, grabbing a plate, then a cooled muffin, before scooping a heaping spoonful of pink yogurt on top and absolutely drowning it in edible glitter.

With a huge smile on her face, she set it down in front of Xander, then reached over and grabbed her fancy candle. She stuck it into the top and turned to me. “Can you light it for Daddy, LoLee?”

Obviously, I couldn’t say no to that, even though my first instinct was to run. Get the hell away from him and whatever voodoo magic he worked on me anytime I was in his presence.

Instead, I did as she asked, leaning close to him to light the candle. “Make a wish, Chief.”

He lifted his eyes to mine…and didn’t look away. The weight of his stare was heavy. More meaningful than it should’ve been for eye contact over a muffin. But even so, everything in me went still. Just froze entirely.

Xander didn’t say anything. Didn’t even smile. He just darted his gaze across my face, as if I were a puzzle he hadn’t been able to solve. As if he were desperate to.

And then he blinked and looked away, snapping the moment between us as if it’d been all in my mind. Without a word, he turned his attention to the candle and blew it out.

“Yay, Daddy! You did it!”

He smiled at Emma then—something soft and private between them—and gathered her on his lap, pressing another kiss to her temple. “Thanks, peanut.” Then he turned his eyes on me. “And thank you, Chloe.”

My breath caught in my throat at my name falling from his lips with something other than exasperation or derision. Without sarcasm or frustration.

It had been laced with something that sounded a hell of a lot like want.

I turned away before he could see how flushed my cheeks were. And so I could try to focus on something other than the thudding pulse of my heart in my ears.

I shouldn’t care this much about his reaction. Shouldn’t care whether he was going to kiss me again. And I definitely shouldn’t care that he’d acted like it had never happened.

But I did.

And based on his reaction the other night at the bar and the way he’d looked at me just now—like I was everything he wasn’t supposed to want—it had been nothing more than a lie on his end.

What was happening between us wasn’t nothing.

And I had no idea what to do with that.