“My sister didn’t believe me when I told her you are a parent at the school. She’s a huge fan,” Tiffany said. “Mind if I snap a selfie with you?”
He nodded because of course he didn’t mind. He draped his arm around her shoulder, and she took a snap.
“My sister’s single,” Tiffany said, eyes sparkling with misplaced mischief. “And she loves Denver. I know she’d enjoy visiting sometime. Maybe I can bring her over to meet you?”
“‘Course,” he said. “Love meeting all other food lovers.”
Tiffany beamed. “You’ll adore her. She’s amazing. She’s been single way too long.”
He grinned and nodded since there wasn’t much else to be done, but he knew this thing needed to be nipped in the bud before it really got out of hand. “I think I’m gonna take a break from the dating, you know?”
Tiffany smirked. “Yeah. Okay.”
There were only so many times a guy could turn down a woman’s sister before things did get prickly all ’round.
Ask him how he knew.
So he dropped it. Besides, given the number of letdowns he’d been tossing all over like confetti, he understood he walked on thin ice all day every day.
When he got back from Cali he had sworn to himself he’d ask Em straight away. But he’d been a chicken and he’d avoided everything. Hid out at home for a week, but that didn’t work. Only stoked the social media fire.
And then today, Em had nabbed the girls after school, and he’d agreed to meet here. Since he needed to meet-up with Annie, and he had a pan to return to Em, this made loads of sense.
Neighbors returned pans all the time. And the returning of the pan was the perfect opportunity to make his pitch.
So, yes, he said his goodbyes to Tiffany and headed right to Em with a pan of brownies and his dick in his hand. Figuratively, of course. That wouldn’t really work with the brownies. Not enough hands and all. Also, public park so…yeah.
“I sort of figured the statute of limitations on returning my pan had run out.” Em grinned a wry smile, taking the pan from him to set on a nearby picnic table with the rest of her stuff.
“No such limitations on brownies,” he assured.
Ask her. Just ask her.
“They’re gluten-free so the kids can eat them, too.” On this note, he flashed a grin. A brownie-melting grin, he hoped.
She gave the brownies a solid sniff.
“Give them a try,” he suggested.
She shook her head. “If I try to eat this, things could go badly.”
“I doubt that. They’re delicious.” Why wouldn’t she just eat one of the bloody things? Food tended to help sway others to his way of thinking.
She shook her head, wrinkling up her nose adorably. “I take a bite, then try to talk, then I’ll probably choke andthenyou’ll have to Heimlich me. It’ll be a whole thing.”
“Thank you for your caution,” he replied, as cheeky as her. “I’d prefer not to provide any life-saving maneuvers today.”
Ask her. Ask her.
He was going to do it. Right now. Right there.
And he’d approach this ask like any other business deal—with logic and a good dose of charm.
“How do you feel about that favor you mentioned?” he asked while their daughters ran around as girls did. Playing tag or catch the potato soccer or the like.
“The favor?” she countered, arms crossed, not even looking his way.
He crossed his arms to match hers. “Yeah. The night of the… you know.”
