Ask and I shall obey.
Perfect. Just perfect. Maybe a cartoon anvil will fall on my head and put me out of my misery. Should I just tell him I wouldn’t mind being bent over his knee while I’m at it? Really round out the evening and just fully torch whatever dignity I had left.
I turn back to the bar, praying my cheeks don’t match my hair. Maren has this expression like she’s trying very hard not to burst out laughing but is kindly doing her best to save me from complete humiliation.
“Laila’s over there napping,” Maren says to Theo, pointing to the golden retriever and mercifully steering us toward safer ground. “We went to the beach today, so she’s completely conked out.”
Theo glances over at the dog, who is sprawled on her back with all four paws in the air, snoring despite the bar noise. He laughs, and some of the tension breaks. “Perfect. Thanks for letting me take her on short notice. I think Chloe could use an extra friend this weekend.”
This man. This ridiculous, competent, devoted father of a man. I am so screwed.
Maren’s expression softens. “Yeah, I’m sorry about what happened with Victoria. Calvin told me. That’s tough for a kid.”
He looks between the two of us, then nods. “Yeah. She’s handling it, but still. Having Laila around for a couple nights should help.”
“Definitely,” Maren says. “There’s something about dogs that makes everything better.”
A couple approaches the other end of the bar and Maren glances over. “I should go greet them. Say bye before you leave,” she tells Theo, then smiles at me. “Your food will be up soon.”
We both nod and Maren heads down the bar. Theo turns to me, his expression more serious now.
“How did Chloe seem at school today?” He shifts his weight, looking concerned. “Her mom canceled their weekend.”
I set my wine glass down. “Yeah, she was upset. She told me about it when I checked in on her. But she was better by the end of the day.” I pause. “I ended up canceling our vocabulary quiz so we could do art time and popsicles instead.”
A small smile crosses his face, and his eyes go soft. “That’s really kind of you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” I say simply. “She needed it. She deserves to have good days, especially when hard stuff happens.”
He nods, the smile fading. “She does. I just wish her mom saw that too. It’s getting harder to explain why she keeps canceling.”
Anger flares in my chest. I feel protective of all my students, but the thought of anyone hurting Chloe specifically makes me want to commit a felony. My brain starts searching for a fix, some way to make this better, even though I know I can’t actually change what her mom does.
“Actually,” I say, the idea forming as I speak, “There’s a fall festival this Saturday over in Cedarbrook. Apple picking, pumpkin patch, hayrides, the whole autumn thing. I was planning to go anyway.” I keep my voice light, like this is no big deal,like my heart isn’t suddenly pounding. “You and Chloe should come. Maybe it would cheer her up after the canceled visit.”
He tilts his head. “I hadn’t heard of that. We actually missed the harvest festival here in Dark River a couple weeks back. Chloe wasn’t feeling well.”
“See? It’s a sign.” I smile. “You should come.”
Something shifts in his expression—interest, maybe, but also hesitation. “It sounds fun, but I probably shouldn’t. I have inventory at the restaurant I was going to do while Chloe was with her mom.”
“So reschedule the inventory,” I say. The wine is making me bolder than I might normally be, loosening my tongue in ways that are either going to help me or get me into trouble. Oh well. In for a penny. “Do it Sunday instead. The napkins aren’t going anywhere.”
He hesitates. “The suppliers need the numbers by Monday?—“
“So do the count Sunday night after Chloe’s in bed. Or Monday morning before you open.” I lean forward slightly on my stool, close enough to catch that clean scent of his I remember from my apartment. “Life’s too short to spend a beautiful October Saturday counting silverware while your kid sits around sad because her mom flaked on her.”
His jaw tightens slightly at the mention of Victoria, and I wonder if I’ve pushed too far. But then he shakes his head, and he’s smiling. “You make it sound so simple. Are you always this persistent?”
“Only about things that matter,” I say, meeting his eyes.
He holds my gaze for a beat longer than necessary, and I watch something flicker across his face. Consideration, maybe. “I’ll think about it,” he says finally. “But I should go grab Laila and get home.”
“Alright,” I say. “And text me if you decide to come.”
He walks over to where Laila is still sprawled on her dog bed, and I let myself watch him go. The way he moves, confidentbut unhurried. The breadth of his shoulders under that shirt. The golden retriever wakes when he crouches beside her, immediately rolling over and wagging her tail like he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her.
I know the feeling, girl.
