Page 14 of The Single Dad

“That sucks,” Declan says sympathetically.

“One woman definitely lied on her resume,” I recall. “She said that she had eight years of early childhood care experience, but when she met Archie, she asked him, ‘How old are you, little guy? Ten?’”

Reed and Declan chuckle at that, and I smile along with them. As frustrating as it was at the time, I can laugh at it now.

“You’ll find someone,” Reed says confidently. “Keep your chin up, man.”

“Here’s hoping,” I say. I don’t mention the girl I met on the street earlier today, but she lingers in my thoughts, her smile bright like it was while she talked to Archie.

I can’t help but think that I’ve already found the perfect person for the job.

Chapter 4

Riley

I get off work at eight on Thursdays, which is much better than the days when I’m expected to stay and close. Since I’ve got plans tonight, I do my best to get out of the restaurant as quickly as possible.

“You need anything else from me?” I ask my manager, who’s calculating the tips in the point-of-sale system.

She barely looks up at me. “No, you’re good. Thanks for all your hard work.”

I’m out of there in the blink of an eye, before she—or anyone else—can change their mind. Sometimes, the guys on the line will stop me before I can get to the back door, asking me to help with their cleanup. Even though it’s not my responsibility, I usually try to help them, but tonight, someone’s waiting on me.

I untie the little black apron from my waist as I walk down the street, wadding it into a ball and tucking it into my purse. Everything in there will probably smell like grilled food later tonight, but I tell myself I’ll clean it out later. Smelling like food after a long shift is one of the many unavoidable downsides to this job, anyway, and most people are pretty understanding about that.

I pull out my phone as I walk down the sidewalk. I have a couple of messages from Noah that came in during my shift. My manager has been getting stricter about phones recently, so I had to wait until I was clocked out to check them.

NOAH: You down for sometime next week?

I grin, typing out my response.

ME: If your pride can handle another devastating loss, then sure.

There’s a pause, in which his typing bubble appears and disappears several times. Eventually I get his response.

NOAH: We’ll see.

The text is followed by a grimacing emoji, which makes me laugh. I type out another message, changing the subject.

ME: I met your neighbor the other day btw. I helped him calm his kid down on my way past his house.

NOAH: Who? Cole?

That’s right—the imposing, ridiculously attractive man introduced himself as Cole.

ME: Yeah, that was him. His kid was adorable.

I don’t mention my thoughts about Cole himself.

NOAH: He’s a nice guy. I think the kid is his nephew, though. His mom passed away, so Cole stepped up and adopted him.

“Oh,” I say aloud, a little taken aback by that revelation. It intrigues me a little. I think back to the desperate, serious look in Cole’s striking blue eyes as he tried to calm down the child.

ME: He’s kinda dour, huh? Not much of a smiler?

NOAH: He’s really not a bad guy. Seems like he’s just been through a lot. You know how it is.

I do. During our time in the foster care system, Noah and I encountered plenty of people who had been through a lot. Life often throws curve balls at people, and those people sometimes struggle to pick themselves back up and move on.

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