Page 17 of Daddy's Heart

He wiped the crumbs from his mouth with his napkin. “If they can get you this excited, I have to see them for myself. I’ll go to the lecture with you, then we can head home.” He took a sip of his rooter. “Unless there’s another program you want to see?”

She blinked.

“You’ll go with me?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I’m more of an adventures sort of reader, long epics, that sort of thing, but this sounds pretty interesting.”

She took another bite and chewed while staring at him.

“You read?”

He laughed. “That’s so surprising?”

A heated blush blossomed on her cheeks. “No. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just…I’ve never met a guy who reads—other than Facebook posts anyway.”

“You’ve been hanging out with the wrong people.” He popped a fry into his mouth.

“You’re not wrong.” She nodded and dove back into her sandwich. He watched her quietly for a moment, the undertone to her statement lingering in his mind.

“So, what made you come up to Chicago? I mean, there are libraries in Indiana, so why here?” He leaned back in his chair, feeling the sun hit his face.

Her gaze flickered up to him, but quickly detoured to the people walking past them along the sidewalk.

“Samantha?” he prompted when she remained silent.

She shrugged and stuffed a handful of fries into her mouth.

“Hmmm.” He narrowed his eyes and leaned over the table. “If you weren’t just a friend and a guest in my home, I’d find better ways to make you answer me than repeating myself.”

Her eyes widened, her gaze locking on him.

“L-Like what?” she asked in a hushed tone after she swallowed down her fries.

He grinned. “Nothing you’d enjoy, I assure you.”

She pulled back with a frown. “Well, then I suppose it’s good I’m a guest. Andjusta friend.”

Did he hear the snark and the disappointment correctly?

“I guess so,” he challenged. “So, really, what made you make the move?”

“I wanted to.” She busied herself with drinking down the last of her root beer. “It’s almost three and we want good seats, we should get going.” She waved down the waitress for the check.

He knew a brush-off when he saw it. Whatever secret reason she had for coming to Chicago was locked up tight. He’d let her have her privacy. After all, he was just the spare room she was using.

When the check came, he made a grab for it, but she slapped her hand over it.

“I said I was taking you to lunch.” She met him glare for glare. He could argue, but the issue was obviously important to her.

“Yes, you did.” He pulled his hand back. “But I’m leaving the tip.” He wiggled his wallet out of his back pocket.

She checked over the bill. “Okay.” She shot him a quick smile before sliding her credit card into the bill fold and holding it up for the waitress as she walked by.

“Thanks. I’ll get this right back to you,” the waitress said and breezed back into the restaurant.

“Where’s the lecture?” he asked.

“The library down the block.”

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