When he woke up this morning and said he had to run an errand and would be back soon, I didn’t expect him to come back with gifts.
“Wow! Presents!” Kendall squeals before he can answer me.
“Kind of,” he says, setting them down, along with a bag that was hanging on his arm. “But first, breakfast.” He grabs the top box and opens it up, exposing a dozen donuts, so gorgeously decorated it’s almost a shame they’re about to disappear into our bellies.
“Oh! I want this one!” Kendall exclaims, pointing at the one with white frosting and blue and silver snowflakes. “It’s so pretty!” Easton goes to grab it, but before he does, Kendall changes her mind. “Wait, I want that one!” She points to a chocolate one with red and green sprinkles. “It looks like it tastes yummier.” Easton grins and is about to grab it, when she changes her mind again.
I watch as she goes through each one, explaining why that donut is the best, and Easton patiently listens and discusses them with her, like it’s a life-altering decision. It’s no secret Easton is a delicious specimen of a man. Between his good looks and charm, he has women eating out of his hand. I’ve searched him and have seen the posts and comments from women all over the world begging for his time and attention. Yet, here he is, standing in my kitchen, discussing donuts with my daughter. The handsome face, the soulful brown eyes, and the abs that look and feel like they’re carved out of stone are all great, but I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s nothing sexier than a man giving a child his undivided attention.
Even when my dad was around, I never felt like I had his attention. He treated parenting like a chore—both my parents did—and because of that, too many times, I felt like I was a burden, a regret, a mistake they had to deal with. I told myself I would never allow my children to ever feel that way, that no matter how tough things got, they would know they’re my world. That they’re wanted and loved. And seeing the way Easton treats my daughter when she isn’t even his, gives me hope that he’ll be a hands-on, loving father to our baby.
“All right, so we’re going with half of the chocolate one with red and green sprinkles and half of the one that looks like Santa?” he confirms.
“Yes!” Kendall grins in excitement.
Easton grabs a knife and cuts the donuts in half, setting them on a napkin, then pulls a bottle of milk out of the bag.
“Thank you,” Kendall says, already stuffing her face.
“How about you?” he asks, stepping closer to me. “You hungry, Dash?” He leans in so Kendall can’t hear. “I saw you unwrapping me with your eyes…”
“I was watching you talk to Kendall,” I argue, fully aware I was doing exactly as he accused. I can’t help it, though. I know what’s under his wrapping paper and, even though I’m exhausted as hell, I want nothing more than to unwrap him again. Tonight is our last night together before he leaves—he has the New Year’s show tomorrow night and leaves right afterward—and since Emerald’s has been slow, Dante gave me the rest of the week off, so after Kendall goes to bed, I plan to do just that.
“Uh-huh. Just know that any time you’re hungry for me, I’m available.”
“I already had you.” I shrug. “Twice. You were good, but these donuts look way more delicious.” I grab the other half of one of the donuts he cut up for Kendall and take a huge bite. “Yep,” I say, moaning loudly. “Definitely more delicious.”
He chuckles, grabs his own donut, and sits down at the table. “We’ll see,” he says with a mischievous sparkle in his eye, making my lady parts clench in want.
While we eat, we make small talk about Easton’s upcoming trip. He tells us all the cities he has left to visit, and Kendall asks if I can print her a map to hang on her wall, so she can see where he’s going. Easton promises to pick up something for her in every city he’s in, which reminds Kendall…
“Is it time for presents now?” she asks.
“Who said the present is for you?” I ruffle her hair, making her pout. “Go throw your garbage away and clean your hands and mouth.”
“Well, then, who is it for?” she asks, grabbing her plate and cup and dumping them into the sink. She stands on the stool and washes her hands, then returns.
“I told you it’s only kind of a present,” Easton says with a laugh. “So there’s this concert tonight. It’s for charity, to support music in the schools, and I have seats, so I was thinking the three of us could go.”