6 Tbsps. Cocoa
2/3 Cup Sugar
Make Angel Food cake according to package directions. Slightly whisk remaining ingredients together and chill in refrigerator. After cake is cooled, beat chilled mixture on high until thick and spread evenly over cake.
Clarissa
Shutting the car door, I wave at Brett before turning back to the house. We’ve only been on a handful of dates since he first asked me out. Not enough to tell if he’s a long-term guy, but enough to know there’s chemistry there. We’re taking it slow, no pressure, which is fine with me. After having Dante, I gave myself the obligatory back in the saddle moment, which proved to be a fool’s errand. Now I’m to the point in my life where I’m vetting in the most particular of ways. Before giving my heart and my body, I make sure that I’m capable of feeling more than chemistry. My self-worth reigns when it comes to dating, and any man who courts me will have to be as patient as I have been because I’m dating for two.
Troy has been good about watching Dante, so it’s made it a lot easier for me to not worry about finding a sitter. He seems committed to Dante at this point, which makes things easy. Despite Parker’s initial assessment, this is anything but a saga or a shitshow.
This could work.
Walking toward the porch, I see two lit pumpkins, the larger of the two has an intricately carved goal post with Troy’s jersey number inside, the other is no doubt my son’s, The Legit Life logo shining proudly due to the tea lights. The yard has been freshly mowed, the leaves bagged and brought to the curb. It’s the first real house I’ve been able to give Dante, and I proudly stand admiring it from the yard. With Troy’s help, we’ve had a little money for s
ome extras. With the porch columns wrapped in colorful Halloween tinsel, and the yard lit up with a ghost and a few pumpkins Troy picked up from the home store, it feels more real to me. I’d been so worried when I took on the lease I could barely afford and now find myself thankful for Troy’s weekly checks.
Turning the key, I stop halfway inside, knocked breathless by the sight of a sleeping Troy alone and shirtless on the couch in dark washed jeans and bare feet. His laptop is open on his ripped stomach, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looks entirely different to me, vulnerable, yet sexy as hell. I stop the screen door from slapping shut behind me and simply admire him from where I stand. The man is incredible to look at. Even when completely relaxed, he’s perfection—broad jaw, rippling chest and abs, narrow waist, and a well-defined V that protrudes at his hips and disappears into his jeans. The sight of him so at ease on my couch is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. He truly is the perfect picture of male beauty, every woman’s fantasy. I hate that I’m still so attracted to him. Even after all the years of resenting him, he has the same effect on me as he did the night we met. But the sight of him this way, in Dad mode, makes me curious, and though I don’t ask much about him, I’m becoming more interested in what makes him tick.
Though it’s wrong, I can’t help myself as I approach him and take the pad of my finger moving it along the mousepad to see what he’s working on. I chalk it up to a teacher’s curiosity. One day I hope to teach at a university level. Professor Arden has a nice ring to it, and the money would be a substantial change from what I’m earning now. The screen lights up his face, and I cringe when I see his nose wrinkle at the intrusive light. When I’m sure he’s still asleep, I glance up to see three open Google search windows.
The best foods to feed lactose intolerant kids.
How to make the perfect frittata.
I repeatedly blink at the words. I’d mentioned just once in passing conversation how much I loved frittatas. But it’s the last search that has me reeling.
Ten ways to prove yourself to your spouse.
Does he really care so much about my opinion of him?
I get no time to deal with my discovery when I sense him shift beneath me and take a step back to clear my throat, fully waking him. When his eyes open and he gives me a sleepy smile beneath his Clark Kent glasses, I damn near hit my knees. There’s far too much Troy in my living room.
“Hey, how was your date?”
“Good,” I squeak out as he closes his laptop and moves to sit. “Thank you for watching him.”
“Don’t thank me,” he says in a sleep-filled voice, “it’s my job.”
“Right. Thanks all the same.”
“No problem.” He reaches for his shirt, and I fight the urge to get one last eyeful as he pulls it down over his abs. “He wasn’t up too late. I think he passed out around nine.”
“Oh? Good.” Troy lifts a worn ball cap from the couch, and I pray he doesn’t put in on backward, it’s my weakness, but he does.
Bastard.
The minute he stands, crowding my space, I feel my lady bits spike to life.
“T-the pumpkins look great.”
“Yeah,” he glances in the direction of Dante’s room, the hint of a smile on his full lips, “he did a good job.”
“I’m quite sure he didn’t do it alone.”
“Mostly, he did. Hey, I wanted to ask you something.” He takes a step toward me, and I find myself backing away. I don’t miss his expression when he notices my retreat.
“What are you backing up for?”