Page 14 of Rolling with the Single Daddies

My heart is racing. “It was nothing. A mistake.”

I turn to leave, but Diego is standing in the doorway.

Have I ruined everything?

“We just got carried away. Won’t happen again.”

Can he sense the confusion in my lie? Can Bane?

“Right.” Diego disappears down the hallway.

I rush out, heading the other direction and lock myself in my bedroom.

Seven

Avery

I step into the cigar shop, the rich aroma of tobacco enveloping me. Diego stands behind the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye.

He’s been totally cool about the kiss he witnessed between Bane and me. Our insistence that it won’t happen again must have been convincing.

Diego waves his hand over the array of large-ring-gauge cigars spread out before him like a buffet.

“Up for some fun?”

He’d texted me to meet him at the cigar shop and to wear a loose skirt and no panties. I thought we were going somewhere from the shop. It seems I thought wrong. “What’s cooking in that devious mind of yours?”

He gestures to the cigars. “Pick your favorite.”

I burst out laughing. “Seriously? I don’t know anything about cigars.”

“Come on, humor me. Which one excites you?”

I lean over the counter, exaggerating my inspection. “Hmm, let’s see. This one’s giving me bedroom eyes. But that one over there? Total smoke show.”

Diego chuckles, shaking his head. “You could always just go for size… I hear it really does matter.”

“Hopefully, you also heard that you have to know how to use it.”

He crosses his arms, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “Oh, I do.”

I tap my chin, pretending to contemplate deeply. “Well, if I must… How about that chunky one? Nice and girthy? Like it walks into a room and all the other cigars are like, ‘Damn, who’s that?’”

Diego’s eyes light up. “Ah, the Colossal Reserve. Excellent choice. Follow me.”

He moves the other cigars to a humidor behind the counter, then tucks the Colossal into his shirt pocket and steps around the counter. Wrapping me in an embrace, his hand slides onto my butt, decidedly determining if I followed the ‘no panties’ request.

“Good girl.” He guides me to the lounge.

The dim lighting casts a warm glow over the plush leather chairs, and the air is punctuated with swirls of smoke and the rich scent of tobacco. Only a handful of patrons remain, their attention split between the sports events on the televisions and puffing on their cigars.

Diego settles into an oversized chair in the darkest, most private corner, and pats his lap. “Let’s fix that false belief you have that mothers can’t have fun.”

I hesitate for a moment. “I don’t actually want to smoke it.”

He pats his lap. “You’re not going tosmokeit.”

Keenly aware of which word he emphasized, and the panties issue, I consider what else I might do with a cigar. What I was joking about with my teammates… Surely he wouldn’t expect me to… No. That’s crazy.

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