Suddenly a Father. Michelle Major

at his daughter, unable to keep his eyes off her. “Thank you, sweetheart. I want you to keep those good dreams for yourself.” It was difficult to speak past the ball of emotion knotting at the base of his throat.

      “I have plenty.” Brooke smiled at him then turned her attention to her plate, using her fork to make designs in the leftover syrup.

      He heard a tiny whimper and glanced over at Millie, who quickly wiped at the corners of her eyes with a napkin. “How about if we save your screen time for tonight, Brooke? Let’s rent a movie to watch after dinner. We need to drop your daddy off at his appointment and then we’ll go to the park. Maybe pack a picnic lunch?”

      Brooke nodded. “I like mac ’n cheese for lunch.”

      “Got it.” She stood and cleared most of the dishes from the table.

      Jake followed her to the sink. “Is it any wonder,” he whispered, “that I let her have as much ‘screen time’ as she wants? Without the TV or computer as a distraction, she’d be slaying me with her innocent comments all day long.” He put down his plate and gripped the edge of the counter. “I’m in over my head here, Millie. It’s not a sensation I’m used to, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

      “You’ll be fine. This is new for both of you. Brooke went through a huge loss. The most important thing is that you’re here for her. She needs you, Jake.”

      He wasn’t sure if he could handle being needed, if he had the strength to make it work. But that wasn’t a conversation for right now. Brooke’s unconditional love coupled with Millie’s expectations of him doing the right thing crippled him almost as much as his injuries. His motto during emergency missions had always been Stay in the Moment. He could only deal with one thing at a time and right now that was getting caught up on his physical therapy. He was in no position to make any decisions about the future until he knew what his body would be able to handle.

      “Thanks for breakfast,” he told Millie before turning away.

      Her hand on his bare arm stopped him. Her touch was cool and soft against his skin. “You’ll be fine, Jake,” she repeated. “We’re going to make sure of it.”

      He gave a tense nod then walked to the kitchen table, reaching down to straighten Brooke’s tiara. “Best pancakes ever.”

      Her smile was bright. “Millie’s going to teach me how to make Frenchy toast tomorrow.”

      “I can’t wait.” He unstuck a strand of hair from her cheek. “I’m going to get cleaned up for my appointment. Wash your face and hands and we’ll pick out an outfit for today.”

      She shook her head. “Millie will help me get dressed.” She grinned. “She’s a girl, Daddy, so she’s better at clothes than you.”

      He’d wager Millie was better with everything relating to kids than he, but he didn’t point out that fact.

      “Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

      “Daddy.” She giggled. “You know my name’s not Stan.”

      He thumped the heel of his palm against his forehead. “I keep forgetting. It’s a plan, Brooke.”

      “Silly Daddy. That’s better.”

      One tiny thing was better. He only wished he could fix the rest of their problems so easily.

      * * *

      By the time she got the dishwasher loaded, the table wiped down and Brooke cleaned and dressed for the day, Millie had almost gotten her emotions under control.

      Almost.

      There was no doubt that Millie had gone through hell as a child, never able to claim her father publicly or even tell anyone she knew the man who’d helped create her. Her visits with Robert Palmer had been behind closed doors or incognito. She’d hated all the pretending she’d had to do. Hated that when her father was around, her mother insisted that Millie not trouble him. There had been no help with homework, no demands for more of his time or requests to attend a school performance. But she’d known him. He’d been a presence—albeit an occasional one—in her life.

      Brooke had lost her mother, and at four, Millie knew the girl couldn’t truly understand the permanence of the situation or what it meant for someone to be dead. It was trauma at a level Millie could hardly comprehend. Yet Brooke seemed to be handling it with a mix of cheerfulness and poignant honesty that touched Millie to her core.

      She smiled as Brooke played with her hair while Millie strapped the girl into her car seat. It was a tight fit in the back of her VW Beetle, not a car she’d planned on using to haul around a child and her very tall father. She focused on the task at hand and tried to ignore the fact that her back end was on full display as she adjusted the child safety straps to make Brooke more comfortable.

      Readjusting her headband, she turned then narrowed her eyes at the smug smile playing at the corner of Jake’s mouth.

      “I’m not thinking what you think I am,” he said softly, his blue eyes appearing several shades darker than she remembered. “Promise.”

      “Toss me Bunny.” She held out her hands, willing her body to stop responding to the wicked gleam in his eye.

      Instead he took the few steps toward her until they stood toe to toe. He placed the stuffed animal in her arms then traced his finger from the corner of her jaw down her neck, straightening the collar of her flannel shirt in the process. “You’re blushing.”

      “I’m just hot.”

      “You’re just hot,” he repeated.

      “Not like that. You know what I mean. It was a lot of work maneuvering that car seat into the back of the Beetle.”

      He gave a small laugh. “Right now I’m wondering how I’m going to maneuver myself into your car.”

      “It’s not that small. You’ll fit fine.” When he flashed a wide grin, she groaned but couldn’t stop herself from smiling in response. Something about Jake put her at ease enough to enjoy the playful banter. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Dr. Travers.” She turned and handed Brooke the stuffed animal then went around the car to slip in behind the wheel.

      She tried not to watch as Jake attempted to fold himself into the passenger seat. “How tall are you, Millie?”

      “Five feet, two and a half inches.”

      He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye.

      “In half-inch heels,” she amended. “You’re what, six-three?”

      “And a quarter.” He adjusted the seat back then lifted his booted leg into the car and shut the door. “If an extra quarter inch matters to you.”

      “Daddy, you’re smushing me,” Brooke said, and Millie saw the girl kick her foot into the back of Jake’s seat.

      He moved the seat up again, his knees grazing the dash. “Is that better?”

      “Uh-huh. Bunny needs room to spread out.”

      “Lucky Bunny,” Jake mumbled.

      Millie looked over, ready to continue their verbal sparring until she noticed the tight set of his mouth. Jake’s head was resting back against the seat, his eyes closed.

      She placed her hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

      He gave a small nod but didn’t open his eyes. “Just not used to this much moving around so early in the day. Sad but true.”

      “It will get better.” She realized she’d said a version of that phrase almost a dozen times in the past twenty-four hours. Speaking the words out loud, unfortunately, didn’t make them reality.

      She backed the car out of the driveway and followed Jake’s directions to the hospital. When she’d visited Olivia before in Crimson, there had still been snow on the ground. Now