Page 89 of Driven Daddy

“Oh, sweetie.”

“It’s okay.” I hurried on, not wanting to make it a thing. “I survived. But they placed me with a lady who loved her record player. She didn’t really have money for cable, but I was too young to really miss it. She loved hair metal. We’d listen to Def Leppard and KISS on repeat all day long.”

Molly had been one of my favorite fosters.

She never made me feel like I was just a check, even though I obviously was. But she never treated me badly and gave me a deep appreciation for eighties’ rockstars.

When I looked over JoAnn’s shoulder, Penn was there.

Oh, good. Just in time to hear that part of my life. Perfect.

Penn’s mom followed my gaze. “Why don’t I let you two talk? We’re all cleaned up.”

I glanced at the lasagna pan still waiting to be scrubbed, but she all but shoved me at Penn. “Really, I want to help.”

Penn came into the small kitchen and hustled me out and to the back door. “C’mon, the sun is setting. We’ve got the best seat outside.” He slid an arm around my back. “I knew I’d get to the bottom of why you didn’t write fan fiction.”

I bristled.

“C’mon, Rita. It’s not like that. Do you know how impressive it is that you created an entire career for yourself without any help? To come up from that and be the successful author you are? Believe me, I had plenty of help. Scholarships and parents who saved for years to put all their kids into college if they wanted to go.”

I relaxed and let him lead me to the deck, then down the stairs to where a huge basket swing was tied to a massive oak in the Mastersons’ backyard. “How many girls did you sneak out here to do this with?”

He laughed. “You got me. This was the kissing spot for all of us.” He gripped the top of the basket in an oversized egg shape. “We won’t talk about how my parents were probably the first ones to christen it.”

I shook my head. “It’s not going to snap, is it?”

“Have you seen the size of my dad?”

“I have. And yet, you are…you.” I skimmed my eyes over his broad shoulders and lean frame. I knew firsthand that there was a host of ropey muscles under his clothing, but Penn definitely leaned toward the small end of the spectrum compared to his father and two of the brothers I’d met so far.

Just met.

Notso far.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, girl.

“Runt of the litter?” He sat in the swing and hauled me in with him. “Didn’t seem to bother you a few days ago.”

“Penn!” I grabbed the top of the basket, but the rope and chain groaned a little and held.

He swung my legs across his lap, and I settled against the worn green cushion. Worn in the way that meant it was so very loved. I wiggled and fished behind my back to find a smaller circular pillow covered in crocheted granny square stitches in a rainbow of colors.

“Maddie,” he said easily. “My sister went through a crochet phase when she was pregnant with her little girl. Crocheted blankets, scarves, and booties for everyone she knew.”

I tucked the pillow in front of me and wrapped my arms around it. “I like it.”

His legs were long enough to set the swing to swaying. We sat there for awhile as the sun flamed behind the trees of his parents’ neighborhood. It was unseasonably warm, and my sweater was more than enough even when the sun made its slow descent in the sky, a perfect hot pink that said tomorrow would probably be another beautiful day.

I liked that Penn could be quiet. I wasn’t aware he had it in him, but he just lightly stroked his thumb along my knee as we swung for a long time. The lights from his folks’ house were a cozy warm yellow, leaving us in shadow.

“Going to tell me about earlier today?”

“And I was just thinking how nice it was that you were quiet.”

He grinned, a flash of white in the dark. “Maybe it’ll make you feel better to tell someone who doesn’t know anything about it. I’m not up on all the drama of the regular author world. There’s plenty in the graphic novels and comics to keep me busy.” He gripped my knee lightly. “Or you can tell me about foster life.”

“Huh, are those my only choices?”

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