Page 66 of Driven Daddy

“Understood.” I did my first pour, letting the grounds soak as I went back to the cabinet. There were a fair number of white mugs inside that came with the cottage, but I’d also been lured by the fun ones I’d found with the rest of my recent purchases. I plucked the bowl-sized one with the frazzled cat on the front for Penn and a rainbow farting unicorn for mine. “Good enough?”

“Oh, yeah. Gimme, man. Which blend?” He drew in a deep breath. “Wait, don’t tell me. Her Witches Brew blend.”

“Got it in one.”

“My favorite. She only makes it in October. How’d you score some already?”

“Just happened to get some yesterday when I ran out.”

“So, what was your previous poison?”

Such a normal conversation, and part of me wanted to snap my damn mouth shut and keep with the anger, but that wouldn’t help anyone. “Pumpkin Spice, I’m afraid.”

“Ahh, well. I won’t hold it against you since it’s also one of my faves.” He waggled his eyebrows. With his hair caught back in a tail, his angular face was even more striking. The blade of his nose and expressive brows gave his face a hawkish look that accentuated his intelligent brown eyes. He straightened. “Need help?”

“No, I’m good.”

He wandered over to the kitchen table by the window. “Did you buy out the office supply store?”

“I didn’t pack all my usual supplies.” Annoyed that I’d shared that, I focused on pouring slowly. “But I think I prefer paper and pen now. I used to do everything on my iPad.”

“Huh.” He put his hands on his hips and tipped his head to the side. “Is this your storyboard or for the workshop?”

“Sugar, cream?”

He didn’t look away from the board. “One sugar, no cream,” he said absently.

Once the brewing was done enough for both of us, I transferred to mugs and wandered over to stand by him. I handed him the bowl-sized mug. “Mostly the workshop. Pink sticky notes are maybes. Yellows mean probably, and the whites are definites.”

He took a sip, and the humming groan he released made me wish for the flannel again, dammit.

“Good stuff. I wasn’t sure when I saw the chemistry set.”

I laughed. “Right? Exactly why I bought it. I have a boring one at home.”

He grinned down at me. “You can make me coffee anytime.”

“You wish.” I focused on the board and not my jittering girl parts that were willing to misbehave times eleven.

“I didn’t know they made white sticky notes,” he said idly. “Nice introduction stuff, though. I’m sure a lot of them are either fan fiction writers or dabblers.”

“Not one in the same?”

He took another deep drink and hummed. “Hell, no. Fan fiction is where it’s at for a lot of writers. Me when I was in high school before I created my own character.”

“Oh, really?”

“And you didn’t?’

“No. I didn’t watch television. Though I suppose I could have done some fanfiction for books I read. God, I lived for books.”

“What do you mean you didn’t watch television?”

I shrugged. “Just didn’t.” I stepped forward and plucked off one of the sticky notes I’d put on the wall. There was a forest of them in separate sections. “What about this?” I handed it to him.

“Your handwriting is worse than mine.” He glanced at me with an arched brow. “We’ll revisit television.”

I did not want to revisit it, thanks. I already didn’t know how to deal with Penn on many different levels, I didn’t want to add in the pity he’d probably show me once he found out I was a foster kid.

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