“We made two.” She stared at Providence for a few beats as if sizing her up. “What kind of toppings do you eat?”
Providence started listing toppings, trying to process the situation while maintaining a chill vibe.
“Do you like black awawas?” Sammy asked.
“Black olives,” Dakota explained.
“They’re delicious.”
The child beamed. “I love them. They are soooo yummy. My real name is Samantha and my short name is Sammy.”
“What should I call you?” Providence asked.
“Sammy.”
“You can call me Providence.”
Sammy looked at Dakota. “Provi…”
“Pro-vi-dence,” Dakota said.
“Do you have a short name?” Sammy asked her.
Providence smiled. “You can call me Provi, if that’s easier.”
“Sammy, let’s put Providence’s work bag in my office, then we can show her where the guest bathroom is so she can—”
“Do you have to wash your hands right away when you come home?” Sammy asked her.
“I have that rule at my house.” Providence couldn’t help but smile again. Samantha Luck was absolutely adorable.
As Providence followed Dakota down a hallway, Sammy slipped her small hand into hers. And Providence’s heart squeezed so hard, she rubbed her chest to soothe the ache.
Once in his spacious office, Dakota set his bag on his desk chair and she placed hers on the leather chair in the corner. His office was stately, yet cozy, with dark wood walls, a tray ceiling with dark wooden beams, and recessed lights that bathed the room in soothing light. As she expected, his desk was free of any papers, only a single framed photo faced inward.
The built-ins behind his desk captured her attention. The shelves were filled with books, framed artwork by his daughter, and several photos. Pictures of Sammy, Sammy with Dakota, and of Dakota with the men she’d met on the video chat earlier in the day.
Mrs. Morris popped in. “Pizza’s ready.”
“Yay.” Sammy bolted, leaving Providence and Dakota alone in his office.
She slid her gaze to his. He was waiting. For the first time since she’d laid eyes on him, she was seeing him for his true self. The wealthy real estate mogul and businessman—and possible vigilante—was a father. And because she hadn’t accessed his file like Luther had suggested, she’d been blindsided by the news.
He stepped close. “I assumed you knew, but you didn’t, did you?”
“No, I haven’t read your file. Total rookie mistake.”
He stroked her cheek. “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you. There’s nothing like pizza night with a four-year-old that screams romance.” He pointed to an open door. “You can use the bathroom off my office.” And then, he dipped down, but instead of kissing her, he whispered, “Thank you for coming home with me.”
He flashed that killer smile and was gone.
Providence didn’t need a man to complete her. But this man was slaying her with his words.
She walked into the bathroom on rubber legs and shut the door.He has a four-year-old.Annabel’s face crashed into her thoughts.She would’ve been four, too.Her heart felt heavy, but she washed quickly, not wanting to keep them waiting.
They were seated, but they hadn’t started. “Please eat,” she said. “Sammy is starving.”
Without delay, Sammy picked up her slice and bit into it. Her eyes lit up as she chewed. Forcing down any lingering emotion, Providence asked, “Sammy, which pizza should I try first?”
