Page 19 of Mister Mom

Me: We’re going to Pancake Express. You must work out or something if you’re up that early.

Vance: Are you imagining me working out? And you haven’t even seen my abs yet. Kinky. I like it.

I smile to myself. This man is such a flirt. I’m sure he means nothing by it, he’s this way with everyone, yet I can’t help the way my breathing gets shallow when he does.

Vance: Pancake Express tastes like cardboard. Meet me at Yolk Me.

A third text comes through with the address of Yolk Me and my stomach flips a few times at the thought of seeing him again.

I pick up Via and walk upstairs to my bedroom and end up getting a little too done up for breakfast, telling myself it’s because I want the part and not the man.

* * *

After dropping Via off at daycare, because there’s no way I’ll be able to have a conversation with Vance while my eighteen-month-old is grabbing at every single item on the table, Payne and I enter Yolk Me. It has a hipster vibe with different seating arrangements for every table and is a far cry from Pancake Express, where your legs stick to the vinyl booths. But Pancake Express is simple. Twenty different kinds of pancakes. If you want eggs, you go somewhere else. I secretly hope Yolk Me isn’t some organic vegan restaurant with tofu and sprouts because I’ll have a screaming kid on my hands.

Waiting by the hostess stand, I’m surprised on how empty the restaurant is, especially with it being nine in the morning. Yeah, it’s middle of the week, but this is LA, not some small town in the middle of the Nebraska cornfields.

“Did you get a table yet?” Vance approaches from behind and shivers run up my spine at the sound of his deep voice.

Does this guy have some love potion splashed all over him that intoxicates me every time he’s near? I practically turn into an emoji with two hearts for eyes.

“Not yet. I guess there’s too many customers, the hostess can’t keep up.”

One side of his mouth tips up in the most mouth-watering smirk until he focuses on Payne at my side, who surprisingly seems as mesmerized by this man as me.

“Hey, Payne. Good morning.” He holds his hand up for a high-five, and Payne smacks it. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

Payne’s lips curl at the corners and he’s wearing the same expression he gives the nannies when they first walk through the door, as if he’s sussing them out. He pulls his arm back like he’s about to throw a ball and then smacks his hand as hard as he can against Vance’s.

The slap echoes in the restaurant, and surprise, surprise, it garners the attention of the hostess and she finally shows up.

“Sorry,” I mumble as Vance shakes his hand from the force of a four-year-old.

“You know, I’d never want to run into you in a dark alley.” He shakes his head at Payne.

“Payne’s working on his communication skills.” I smile and Vance’s head falls back into laughter.

“Good luck with that.” Then his eyes set on the hostess. “Three or four?” He turns to me. “Where’s your son, daughter?”

“Daughter. Via is at daycare.”

Small wrinkles appear on his forehead but he holds three fingers up for the hostess without comment.

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.” Payne tugs on my sleeve. “They have some games. Can I play? Please, please, please.”

“His communication skills seem fine to me,” Vance says and slides into the booth.

I dig into my purse, but Vance hands him a five-dollar bill. “Go have fun.”

Payne doesn’t even wait before he scurries toward the line of games, or the money suckers, as I like to think of them. He’ll be back in five minutes and all of Vance’s money will be gone, mark my words.

As though Vance can hear my unspoken thoughts, he says, “The games are set up so that kids win no matter what. I picked this place because they have great food, but they’re kid-friendly.” He lifts the coffee the hostess poured to his lips.

“How did you know Payne would be with me?” I grab two Stevias and pour them into my coffee.

“Well, I witnessed the nanny running away yesterday.” He raises his eyebrows and the brown depths of his eyes remind me of melted chocolate. And who doesn’t like chocolate?

“Not exactly the best first impression.” Embarrassment colors my face and the skin on my cheeks heats, feeling almost as if I’m lying out sunbathing on a hot summer day.

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