Page 85 of The Single Dad

I exhale slowly. “Of course you can.”

“How much did you spend on this?”

I hesitate, then say, “It wasn’t cheap, if that’s what you’re asking. But again, it’s really not a big deal.”

“I can’t—”

“It should fit you. And if not, we can have it altered.”

Riley opens her mouth to protest again, then pauses, as if my words have just sunk in. She frowns. “How did you know my size?”

There’s a touch of heat in my voice as I respond quietly, “I’ve run my hands over every inch of you, angel, and I have a good memory. Of course I know your size.”

Riley’s cheeks flush, and for a few moments, she stands there uncertainly, biting her lip. Then, at last, her gaze drops to the floor. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m certain. It will look stunning on you.”

She takes a deep breath, then nods. “Okay. Fine. I’ll wear it. But on one condition.”

“What is it?”

“The cost of this thing”—she gestures to the garment bag—“had better come out of my salary.”

I give her an amused smirk. “Oh. It won’t. Nice try, though.”

She pouts for a few seconds, but her false scowl quickly gives away to softness. “Thank you,” she murmurs, genuine gratitude in her voice.

She looks like she wishes she could kiss me, and I feel like there’s a flame burning in my chest. God, I wish I could kiss her too.

But neither of us moves to close the distance between us, and after a long, loaded moment, she turns and goes back to playing with Archie.

Chapter 26

Riley

On the night of the gala, I get dressed and ready in my room.

It’s been a long time since I had to dress myself up for an occasion, and I don’t think I’ve ever been to an event as fancy as this one, so I pull out all the stops.

Of course, for me, that isn’t much. I wash my hair carefully and blow it dry rather than putting it in the usual high ponytail. It wafts around my shoulders in sleek curtains; I can’t stop running my fingers through it, surprised by the softness.

I use a little bit of makeup, but not much. A slight blush, a little bit of nude eyeshadow, and a tasteful mascara. I don’t want to show up bare-faced, but I don’t want to look like a clown, either.

Figuring out how to walk the line makes me a little nervous. It’s so rare that I try to make myself look presentable like this. Usually, when I’m just working with Archie, my goal is only functionality. I try to get my hair out of the way, and that’s about it.

When I’m finally almost ready, it comes time to put on the dress.

I’m almost afraid of it. It’s been hanging off of the mirror in the corner of my room, waiting for me—almost taunting me.

I know that Cole doesn’t think it’s a big deal, but… well, I know enough about fashion to know how much he must have spent on something like this.

And I know how it must look to other people, him spending that kind of money on his nanny. They certainly won’t think I could afford it for myself.

A trickle of nervousness goes through me. I have to imagine that all of the people at this gala will be just like the other parents at Archie’s daycare—judgmental, wealthy, and able to sniff out imposters like bloodhounds.

I swallow hard, steeling myself, then put on the dress. I didn’t try it on before tonight—I couldn’t bring myself to—but of course, it fits my body perfectly. Cole wasn’t kidding. He must have all of my curves mapped out in his mind.

I turn to face the mirror, and the skirt twirls, the diamonds in the fabric flashing. It’s gorgeous. It hugs my torso and waist, the neckline deep, but still classy. It’s almost certainly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn.

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