Page 11 of Abbott’s Lost Spoon

Returning to the table, I set down our sundaes and then joined him.

“My gosh, that looks good.” He picked up his spoon and dug in, and I watched, taking a great deal of pleasure in watching him eat food I had prepared for him. Halfway through, he looked up, a tiny streak of fudge on his upper lip. “Aren’t you going to eat yours?”

“Yes.” I picked up a napkin. “Can I get that for you?”

“What?”

I tapped my lip and pointed at his. He leaned in, and I wiped away the chocolate. Kissing it off would have been good too. We laughed and then both settled in to eat. I tried not to indulge too much, since tasting was already a lot, but on a special occasion, I was all in. “Your brownies are so good. Rich and fudgy, just the way I like them.”

“That’s a big compliment from you, the ice-cream god.”

“God, is it?” I might have preened a little. “Watch it or my head will get all swollen.”

He winked, and I chuckled. I hadn’t intended the double entendre, but he didn’t seem to mind either.

As we finished up, talking about this and that, the shop suddenly got much busier. It seemed there were a fair number of people who chose ice cream for lunch. Regretfully, I stacked our dishes. “Duty calls.” Carrying the dishes to the back, I got swept up in the rush and after a few minutes, Abbott waved to me from the doorway, and then he was gone.

I’d see him again.

I did wish I’d asked for his number, though. Would it be okay to get it from Ernie?

Chapter Nine

Abbott

I left the ice-cream shop with my spoon. Yesterday, I’d thought I’d never get it back, and now that it was in my possession. I was thrilled. But also, my thoughts should’ve been all about that spoon.

Only, they weren’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about Soren. Soren. The name suited him. I was happy to finally get a name for the smoking-hot daddy who made the delicious ice cream and didn’t look at me weird because of my spoon.

“Soren.” I loved the taste of it on my tongue.

There was no denying I had a crush on him after the party, but it was even bigger now. The entire way home, I kept replaying our time at the shop. He cleaned my spoon for me. He kept it safe. He sat with me, giving me ice cream, wiping the hot fudge from my lip. All little pieces that by themselves weren’t really that special, but put together were everything.

Soren was nice. I’d seen that at the party and had already sort of knew it from the few times I’d seen him at the club. There was something about his demeanor that was welcoming and kind.

Today felt like more than him being nice to me, though. I felt special. When he sat and ate with me, he didn’t spend the time looking to see if he was needed at work. His attention was on me. Only me.

I wanted to believe that my interest in him was reciprocated, and I was pretty sure it was, but not 100 percent sure. It wasn’t until I got home that I saw I’d made just as big a mistake as I had at the party. There, I forgot to get his name. And here, I got his name. But did I get his number? No. Did I give him mine? No.

At this rate, it was going to take four more accidental meetings before I actually was brave enough to tell him I was interested in him.

I pulled up my group chat with my little friends and sent them a picture of my spoon. Sammy was the first to respond, asking me how I got it back. So I told them the story and used a voice message, not wanting to type out a whole entire book for them. Hopefully, they were all in places where they could listen to it.

They peppered me with questions, wanting every detail, and I was glad to give it. I wished I’d invited them all over so we could do this face-to-face. This was the type of conversation junk food and a beer would pair nicely with.

So was this a date? Luke asked.

I immediately said back, No. It wasn’t a date. Or was it? No. It couldn’t be. Probably. Definitely not. Possibly.

Sure, Brock snapped back with the eye roll emoji.

Are you guys where you can talk?

By some miracle, they all said they were, and I pulled Zoom and linked it for them. This was getting too complicated for texting.

“Look at you. Somebody found a daddy,” Brock said, sticking out his tongue.

“No, I didn’t.”