Page 45 of Challenged by the Single Dad

That made them both laugh, and their gazes remained locked for several heartbeats even though their smiles faded.

Then the grating sound of orders coming through on the machine popped their weird little bubble and they jumped back into bartender mode.

“I’ve got this, Dom. You should go. Really.”

“Silas is over at Wyatt’s house with his boys. They’re making pasta with Vica. I’m okay for a little bit longer.”

“You don’t want to go make pasta with them?”

He shrugged. “I’ll head up in an hour and put him to bed. Renée’s off, so it’s just you, and the place is slammed. It wouldn’t be right to just abandon you.” He’d set down the towel with ice so he could use both hands, but that only repeatedly drew her attention to his forehead and the enormous welt she was responsible for.

“I’m fine, Chloe. Stop staring at my forehead,” he grumbled. “It will heal. I will live.”

She rolled her eyes and blew out a long, slow breath. “Fine then. But if you get a concussion and can’t play in your peewee hockey tournament this weekend, don’t come crying to me.”

A snort and rumbling chuckle emanated from the man down the bar, and when she hedged a glance his way he was smiling and shaking his head.

Phew.

At least he wasn’t pissed at her anymore.

Time flew by as they endlessly poured drinks. They were in the groove until a static sound followed by a little voice going, “Come in, Admiral Awful. This is Spiderman. Over,” rattled her back to reality.

Dom reached into the pocket of his jeans and brought out a blue walkie-talkie. “Hey there, Spiderman. This is Admiral Awful. How goes the pasta making, little man? Over.”

“We’re all done and full. We saved you some though. Are you coming home? Over.”

“Are you ready for me to come home? Over.”

“Yep. Over.”

“All right. I’ll just finish up here then run home. Over.”

“That’s a Texas-sized 10-4. Over.”

Dom snickered and stowed the walkie-talkie again.

Chloe’s cheeks hurt from smiling so hard at the adorable little father-son exchange.

“Things seemed to have died down here. You going to be okay?” he asked, skewering an olive then tossing it into a martini.

“You know I will be,” she said. “Go be with that adorable-sounding little boy of yours.”

His smile stole every last ounce of oxygen from her lungs and she had to grip the counter she grew so woozy.

He finished up the order he was fulfilling, then sucked in a deep breath through his nose. “All right then. I guess I will see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night. Enjoy the pasta.”

He flashed her another smile, but that somehow just drew more attention to the bump, bruise, and cut on his forehead.

She blanched. “And I’m so sorry about your head.”

“Accidents happen,” he said. “Let’s just call it payback for what I said your first day. Hmm?” Then he shot her a wink and she damn near flooded her panties.

The evening remained steady, but not unmanageable.

Chloe liked being busy. It made the clock tick by quickly and kept her from over-analyzing things—like how she felt about Dom.

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