“Don’t put a single-dad stigma on me, Journey. I know I have a daughter, and I know I’m doing a great job of probably screwing her up myself. This isn’t about Hannah. I want you for me.”
I don’t know why words aren’t flowing like they normally would, but I can’t think of a response. I’m still staring into his eyes and I can’t look away. “I need to spend time with you, please.”
“Is that why you took my coffee?”
“I thought you’d come after me.”
“I thought about it, but that would have given you a winning point.”
Do you understand what your kiss did to me last week? It’s all I’ve been able to think about. On top of that, I am uncovering the demons that you’re holding hostage, and I want to be there for you and—I want to see you smile. In fact, I’d selfishly like to be the reason you are smiling.
“I can’t promise you things will turn out that way you want them to.” In fact, I’m almost positive they won’t. “There is a lot more to me than you know, Brody.”
“I want to learn everything there is to know about you. I want to be your friend, and—I mean, I’ll take more but, we can start there.”
Something comes over me when I agree to his plea. “Okay.” I thought I’d feel instant regret, but I voluntarily climb into his truck.
“Do you like ice cream?”
“No,” I say.
“Get out of my truck. This will not work.”
I stare at him with a raised brow.
“I’m kidding,” he says.
“Me too. I bet I can eat you under the table,” I quip.
“Uh—” Brody scratches the back of his head. “Can I say ... that’s what she said?”
As I question his reply, I realize my statement of:eating you under the tablecould imply. It’s not what I meant, but I’m not Melody who would start giggling at every stupid thing she accidentally says. “Sure, I say it all the time.”
“See? We’re obviously meant to be. Just friends, I mean.”
“Right, friends,” I tell him, pulling my door closed.
The few seconds between closing myself inside his truck and Brody making his way to the driver’s seat, I lean back and inhale the scent of cologne and vanilla. Brody and Hannah—the dueling father/daughter duo.
“Where did Brett and Melody go?” Brody asks as we pull out of the driveway.
“There’s a park and a gazebo. Melody thinks no one knows it exists.”
“Wow, look at how well we’ve taught them. Getting their freak on in a public park. That’s great.”
“They’re probably singing show-tunes about falling in love,” I tell him.
“Or twirling in circles as if dancing on air,” he follows.
“Who would have thought there were two of them in this world?”
“Maybe there’s someone for everyone,” Brody says, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
“Don’t go that way,” I say before he pulls up to the end of the street. “Take a right.”
“The other way is faster,” he argues.
“Please, take a right.”
