“You’re going to be just fine.” She twirled her finger around in a bibbidi-bobbidi-boo flourish like she was my fairy godmother. “This should give you all the privacy you need. Ta-ta.” And with that, she flitted off.
I stared after her, feeling a creeping sensation that fate was about to make its next move. What did that mean?
Junie took my hand. “You don’t have to be nervous.”
I turned and studied her. She could read emotion like me. It was weird, how she could read me but her father couldn’t. It appeared he was just limited to reading someone’s heart. Huh. Either that or this girl knew some voodoo, which at this point wouldn’t shock me.
I squeezed her hand back. “Thank you, Junie.” If only she knew how nervous I deserved to be. There was a possibility that her father was my true love. If that were the case, it would be the biggest plot twist in my life. Like when you find out that the poor guy inThe Sixth Sensewas dead but he’d been showing up to work every day.
“Hey there,” a sexy voice crooned from behind.
Cue the scary plot-twist music.
I turned to find Roman standing there holding a picnic basket, shaking his head at his daughter with an exasperated sigh.
“A little birdie—or make that a big golden one—interrupted me and told me there were two hungry demigoddesses by the creek and I needed to bring them lunch.”
Junie jumped up. “Yay! I hope you brought my favorite, peanut butter and raspberry jam.”
Roman caught my gaze. He was as nervous as I was. What did that mean?
“Thank you for watching Junie again. I’m sorry she keeps escaping to find you.”
“I’m not,” I blurted and then immediately panicked. “Please don’t take that as me luring her here. I had no idea she was coming. I just meant that I like her.”
“I knew what you meant.” His disarming smile put me both at ease and on high alert. “She likes you too,” he added, shooting Junie a look that promised a future conversation about boundaries, escaping, and summoning magical birds.
“I like her a lot,” Junie said proudly. Then she turned to her father, eyes wide with mischief. “Do you like her now, Daddy?”
Roman cleared his throat. His ears turned pink. “Yes,” he mumbled. “I like her.”
A baby whoosh fluttered through my belly. I hadn’t felt a sensation like that in years. Did that mean I was supposed to fall for Roman . . . again? Or was I losing my mind? Probably the latter.
“Do you like my daddy?”
Junie was a troublemaker. An adorable one.
“Um . . . I’m working on it,” I breathed out.
Roman laughed, breaking the weird tension in the air. “Well, I guess I better make this lunch count, then.”
Him and me both. I needed to figure out if Roman was my destiny or just my sidekick on this quest. Oddly, I couldn’t say which outcome I was rooting for more.
Chapter XXIII
Roman
ThelastthingI’dexpected to do today was spend what was supposed to be a working lunch with Demi and my daughter. Not that I was complaining. The view was infinitely better than my makeshift office in one of the lodge’s converted guest rooms. Watching Demi teach Junie how to toss grapes into the air and catch them with her mouth was . . . well . . . attractive.
Too attractive.
I hadn’t dated much since my divorce. And I’d never introduced Junie to any of the women I’d gone out with. Not that this was a date. But seeing Demi with Junie—laughing, being silly, letting her guard down—it did something to me. It made me want a woman in my life again. Someone who brought a softer touch. Someone who’d love Junie like her own.
Don’t get me wrong, Carmen was a wonderful mother. She loved Junie fiercely. But I missed the feminine presence in our home. The warmth. The balance. And I wanted more children.
If I was being honest with myself—dangerously honest—part of me wanted Demi. The part of me that was clearlyirrational. The part that didn’t care if I lost the show, or got my entire crew fired.
Earlier that morning, while I was scheduling Demi’s upcoming dates, a jealous monster had roared inside me. All I could think about was what she’d said in the forest the night before. About our first meeting. Why did I have to be such a prick at eighteen?
