Page 33 of Faking It With the Grumpy Single Dad

“Why? Did they take all the donuts?”

“No, I mean… about last night…”

I shake my head. “Poppy, trust me. That’s not the first time I’ve dealt with a ridiculous, phony snob from Southern California.”

“Well, still. I’m sorry I dragged you into that.”

She holds out a sugar-dusted donut. I accept it.

“You didn’t drag me into anything,” I insist. “After all that, I’m just glad I didn’t leave you to have dinner with him on your own.”

“But, the stuff about the gala…”

I wave her off. “The custodian of the estate is a friend of the family. He’s my late wife’s second cousin, actually. St. Cecilia’s is usually the biggest gala of the year, so I help him out however I can if I have the time. One quick call to him and I’m sure he’ll be happy to put our names on the list.”

“Oh. But you can’t seriously—I mean, you actually want to go? With me?”

“If I’m being honest, I don’twantto go,” I admit. “It’s not my thing. Not my scene. Not my people. But, if you like attending those things and if it helps with your plight to get rid of that moron, I’m happy to do it. The boys have a sleepover at a friend’s house this weekend anyway, so I’m available.”

Poppy looks uncertain. She’s staring down at her shoes, fidgeting with the glimmering ring on her index finger.

Only then does it occur to me that maybeshedoesn’t want to go to a gala withme.

I’m not blind, after all. I know that it was obvious at the restaurant last night that Poppy and I belong to different tax brackets. Mansfield Contracting does well, but I’m still very much nothing more than middle class. And I’m proud of it, too. I’ve worked to earn everything I have and it hasn’t been easy.

And yet, Percy’s comment about my cheap satin tie last night irked me. Not because it really was from the clearance rack, butbecause it belonged to my father. But I’m a grown man, and I know how to let those comments roll right off me.

If Poppy isn’t eager to be seen with me at an event of that caliber, though… I have to admit I’d feel a little hurt, but I’d also understand. One look at Percy tells me I’m definitely not her usual type. I know I’ve got good hair and a decent jawline, but I’m no Pretty Boy.

“I’ll buy the tickets,” Poppy blurts.

“But—”

She shakes her head before I can finish my protest. “The cost of the tickets is part of the charity donation.”

“Ah. I see. Of course.”

“Do you have a tux?”

I shake my head.

She smiles. “I’ll buy you one. I just need your measurements.”

“My…?”

“Oh! Maybe I can convince Aiden and Sabrina to go, too.”

“Aiden…?”

“Aiden Marx! He’s a good friend of mine.”

I raise my eyebrows. “The musician?”

“Yep! He lives right down the road.”

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Poppy is close friends with a rockstar. SheisJack Minton’s daughter, after all.

It just reminds me how painfully out of her league I am. And how absolutely ludicrous this entire situation is.

---