Page 36 of Falling for my Single Dad Boss

"You're very good at what you do, you know. I had no idea you were as experienced as you are. Having someone of your caliber in charge of the Reynolds Resort marketing is an absolute asset. Your parents would be proud."

Her eyes dart back to mine, the gold flecks within them sparkling, and the words, at least the last few, bring a smile to her face. "Would they?"

"Oh yeah," I assure her. "Very proud."

Now, her cheeks go red again, and I can tell she's pleased. "Well, yours are most definitely proud of you. You're their pride and joy, and I know they're thrilled to have you home. They sure love that granddaughter of theirs, too."

At the thought of Sasha, I can't help but smile with all the warmth my heart is capable of. "Yeah," I sigh. "It sure is good to be home."

Just then, the waiter brings out our food. He sets our respective plates down as Sasha skips back to the table. In no time, we're diving into dinner, and by the end, we're sitting back in our chairs satisfied.

The food was beyond amazing, and we all split a dessert. Sasha wants the chocolate lava cake, and I indulge her. It turns out to be a real treat watching Harper as she experiences the decadence for the first time. She melts just like the chocolate, closing her eyes and letting out a little "ah" of pleasure that plays in my ears long after it was gone.

When our plates are clear and the bill has been paid, we walk Harper to her car, which is parked next to mine. My whole body feels buzzed. Like I have a new energy coursing through me, as if my vision has improved. Now I notice everything about Harper. The way she angles toward me. The way her eyes hold onto me like I'm the most interesting thing in the world. I'm not ready for the night to be over yet, but it's already past Sasha's bedtime.

"I'm going to take this troublemaker home to bed now." I tilt my head toward my daughter.

"I want to stay up. I'm not tired." I make a face at Sasha's comment, and she sighs. She knows what my response will be. "But I have school tomorrow, right."

"That's right, you do. Don't worry, you'll see Miss Harper again soon, I promise. Say goodbye now."

"Goodbye, Miss Harper." My daughter reaches up on her tiptoes to offer Harper a hug, which she quickly accepts.

"Good night, sweetheart," she replies, giving her a squeeze.

After Sasha climbs into her car seat and I've strapped her in, I close the car door and turn back to Harper, my hands settling into my pockets. "Are you doing anything this weekend? My parents are watching Sasha. And I thought it might be fun to check out the high school's baseball game. I guess Kip is coaching now or something. Maybe we could catch it together?"

She hesitates, her eyes bouncing from the restaurant to my car before falling back on my face. Conflict marks her expression.

"If you have plans, then, that's—"

She shakes her head. "It's not that. I would like that, Deacon, but I actually already had plans to go to the game with Bella. She loves baseball. Maybe you could join us? The more, the merrier."

"I'd really like that. I haven't seen Bella in ages. You two were inseparable back in the day." I smile when I think about what a pair those two always were.

"Still are." Harper laughs. “Meet you at the school? I can save you a seat on the bleachers."

I stand by the car, nodding as she climbs inside. "Sounds good. Drive safe, Harper."

As she drives off, I watch her go. And when I get in the car with Sasha, my thoughts are still trailing after her. It's pretty much pointless to not be honest about my feelings now. When I mention the game to Sasha, it feels like a confession, like she's the only person I can talk to about it.

"That sounds like a date," Sasha says. She hums and taps her chin as she thinks, and it cracks me up, making me forget my nerves.

"No way. There'll be other people there. Lots of people," I argue, running through a list of other ways to prove my statement is true.

"Sure, other people, but don't you like her, Daddy?" she asks.

I think for a minute, too embarrassed to respond, and eventually just huff and start the engine. This child is far too perceptive for her age, but it doesn't stop her, and she continues. "She's really pretty, don't you think?"

Unsure of how to answer that, I shrug instead and take my time backing out of the parking spot and turning the car onto the road.

"It's okay," she continues. "You can say yes. I think she’s pretty, too."

"Well, that's good to know," I joke, trying to shift the conversation away from Harper. "Are you ready for school tomorrow? You've been out for two days now."

She doesn't take the bait. Instead, she sits back, tilting her head to look out the window, and asks, "If you marry Harper, will she be my mommy?"

Something catches in my throat, and I glance at her in the rearview mirror, but quickly switch my eyes forward like I’ve suddenly forgotten how to drive. This isn't the first time she's asked me about her mom, but now that she's asking about Harper, I'm floored. Once I regain my composure, my brain whirs for a response.

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