Page 32 of Challenged by the Single Dad

Dom grunted again.

Brooke sighed. “You make her nervous. She’s terrified she’s going to screw up and you’ll fire her. But I honestly think she’s the perfect fit for the bar.” Her lips twisted. “And maybe elsewhere too?” Then she lifted her brows.

Vica and Justine both smiled knowingly.

Dom finished his beer, got up from his seat, and wandered inside to grab another one. “Just because my brothers settled down again doesn’t mean it’s in the cards for me.”

He opened the fridge and snagged another bottle. This time it was the Belgian witbier that was so popular. Then he joined the women back on the porch and took his seat again.

Brooke frowned. “There is no timeline for grief. But, at least cut her some slack.”

“We’ll see if the place is still standing, and the money is all there in the morning.”

The women shook their heads.

“Goodnight, Dom,” they each said, before heading to their houses.

He grunted, tipped the beer to his lips and took a long pull.

It was another thirty minutes before he heard the last vehicle pull away for the night—probably Chloe’s. All he wanted to do was run down there and check on things. Make sure the doors were all locked and the security system was on. But he promised his brothers he wouldn’t. He promised them he’d stay home with his kid.

And more importantly, he promised Silas that he was home for the night.

He finished his beer on the porch. Then he headed inside, doubling back on the camera footage of the room with the safe and watching Chloe as she meticulously cashed out and balanced the night’s sales. Then she put all the money in, punched in the code, and even double-checked that it was locked.

He tossed and turned most of the night, unable to stop thinking about the fact that he wasn’t thee one to shut down the bar.

That he wasn’t the one to lock the doors, or set the alarm.

Maybe he got a couple of hours sleep, but when his alarm went off in the morning to get Silas up for school, he didn’t feel like he’d gotten a wink.

“Gotta get up, buddy,” he said, shaking his little guy gently.

“What? Why?”

“You have school.”

“I do? Isn’t it Sunday? What’s the forecast? Do I need to wear my rainboots?”

Dom paused.

Oh shit!

Silas was right. It was Sunday.

Fuck.

“Oh man. Sorry, buddy. You’re right.”

“Can I come snuggle with you?” Silas asked, his voice still sleepy.

“Sure.” Dom scooped his kid up, Silas flopping against him like a backpack on his front, and Dom carried him back to his king-sized bed where they both passed out again quickly.

Neither of them roused until nearly nine thirty.

Dom still felt like a semitruck had run him over, but it was no longer a semitruck carrying elephants, just a semitruck carrying feather pillows.

“I know we usually do a big breakfast on Saturday, kiddo, but can we just do cereal? I’m bagged.” He turned on the coffee maker as they both hung out in the kitchen in just their boxer briefs.

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