"He's big," Birdie says.
"He is."
"Can I—" She looks at her mother. "Pet?"
"Ask Ryan, bug."
"Ryan." She turns the full force of a two-year-old's eye contact on me. "Pet?"
"Yes, ma'am. He'd like that."
She gets down from her mother's hip with the focused concentration of a demolitions expert. Birdie approaches Duke with one extended hand, and Duke does the thing he does with tiny humans, which is to lower his head all the way down to the ground so she can reach him.
She pets him and tells himgood boyin the sweetest tone I’ve ever heard. Then she leans in and smushes her forehead against his. Duke's tail thumps and Cece, beside me, makes a small sound I don't think she meant to make.
I stand up. Slow and close to her.
"She's got no fear," I say, low, so only Cece can hear. "That's on you."
"I don't feel like it's on me. I feel like it's on her. I don’t know where she gets it."
"It's on you."
She looks at me. The light hits her cheek and the pink is back on her neck. She's so close I could count the freckles on her cheeks. My whole chest does something unhelpful.
"Did you sleep well out at your sister’s place," I ask.
"I did. Thank you for getting us up there. I wouldn’t have found it. Did you?"
"Did I what?”
"Sleep well… I guess.” She lets out an awkward giggle and bites her bottom lip.
I can’t help but wonder what those lips would feel like pressed against mine. “Eventually.”
We make small talk and I’m pulled to her like a magnet. It’s the way she holds herself together. It’s the swell of her chest beneath her thin t-shirt. It’s the way her mouth moves. It’s not quite a full smile, but it’s enough to make my muscles clench.
She glances over my shoulder and tells me that she should let me get back to work. She’s probably right. I could step back. I couldprofessionalmy way out of this. I could tell her to enjoy the rest of the event and get back to Duke and the sticker badges and the line of kids that has, predictably, re-formed twelve feet away.
I do not do any of those things.
"Hey, can I take you somewhere tonight," I ask. "Or tomorrow night. Your pick, I just want to know you better."
“Oh.” She goes very still. “If anything I should probably be buying you dinner to thank you for?—”
"It’s not a thank-you thing. It’s not a… anything. It’s just me taking you somewhere."
She looks at me and raises an eyebrow. "Where."
"Wherever you want to see. I'll give you a private tour of Iron Peak. There's a place up the canyon that does the best green chile you've ever had and another place closer in that does dessert. Or we can just drive. Your call."
"Ryan, I have a toddler."
"I know. I've met her. She's pro-me."
She laughs and it’s a real one, short and surprising. The sound of it lands low in my stomach like something I am going to be building a whole future around.
"Evelyn has been angling to babysit since I pulled in last night. I won’t have to twist her arm.”
