Page 18 of Daddy's Heart

“You have an interview there tomorrow, right?” he asked.

“Yep.” She popped her “p” and looked back into the street. Small talk wasn’t her thing. Which worked great, because he hated it too.

“So, you don’t play with the girls at George’s club?” she asked, swinging her attention back to him.

Ryder blinked a few times, taking in the drastic change in topic.

“I do sometimes, when I’m there for fun and not volunteering,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. It had been a while, a few months maybe, since he’d had any real fun at the club.

“And your last girlfriend was a while back too?”

“Are you interviewing me?” He laughed.

She grimaced. “Sorry. Sometimes I get nosey.”

“No. Not at all.” He slid his hand across the table and laid it on top of hers. “I haven’t had a steady girlfriend in a long time, a few years. I’ve had some play partners at the club, but there aren’t a lot of women I’ve come across who are into…well, the sort of relationship I want.”

Her fingers wiggled beneath his hand, but she didn’t pull it free.

“You mean, like full-time…” Her voice faded away as the waitress approached with her credit card.

“Thanks, guys. Have a great day.” The waitress placed the bill fold back on the table and left.

“What about you?” He turned the tables.

“Me?”

“Yeah, boyfriends?”

“Oh, no.” She laughed and leaned back, taking her hand from beneath his. “I had a boyfriend about a year ago. He was…well, not into—well, anything.”

Ryder nodded, not sure he understood fully, but not wanting to get into an in-depth discussion about her little side in such a public setting.

“He wasn’t the right guy.” She shrugged and opened the bill fold. She scribbled her name on the bottom of the receipt and flipped it closed again.

She got up from the table, swinging her bag over her shoulder, and he followed suit. After tossing a few bills down on the table for the tip, he followed her through the maze of tables and back to the street.

They walked quietly for half a block before he slipped his hand into hers, lacing their fingers. He waited for her to stiffen or pull back, but her fingers curled around his and she shifted closer.

“Oh, there’s a kid’s tent. You want to stop? I think I saw some coloring books and puzzles.” He pointed to the tent coming up on their left.

She paused in her step briefly.

“No. That’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“I don’t need that stuff. I was…last night…I don’t do that very often. I was just so tired and worn out, I needed some chill time. I’m not like that all the time.” She rambled off her words so fast, they crashed into each other at the end.

“It’s not something to be embarrassed about,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

“I know,” she said flatly.

“Okay, so you don’t need anything…” He walked them closer to the tent sporting graphic novels meant for coloring. Her attention washed over the books as they walked by.

“Well, maybe…just one?” she muttered.

“Okay, just one,” he agreed. He shuffled the books in his arm and walked with her to the booth, knowing, with the light in her eyes as she picked up the first book, she’d be going home with as many as she wanted.

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