Page 24 of Summer with a Single Dad

“Give me just a sec,” he said.

“What on earth? A lightsaber?” I asked when Chris picked up the life-sized toy.

“Oh, yeah. Every dog owner should invest in one of these.”

I rolled my eyes. “Boys and their toys.”

Chris scrambled over to the couch, where Luke waited anxiously. “You see,” he said, kneeling to the floor, “a lightsaber is the best tool to reach lost toys.” He moved it back and forth under the couch before standing up, proudly displaying Luke’s lost ball.

“What do you use to get their toys?” he asked.

I laughed. “A broomstick.”

“That’s so boring,” he said. “Plus, this thing lights up. Makes it a little easier if it’s nighttime.”

“I’m sure,” I said, shaking my head.

“You want to see the dog run?” he asked, powering off the lightsaber.

“I thought you only used the light at nighttime.”

“Nah,” he said with a chuckle. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“I didn’t know I was dating a nerd.” I lifted onto my tiptoes. “But it’s my new favorite quality.”

“Baby, you have no idea.”

I lifted a brow. “Should I be scared?”

“Maybe.” He squeezed my sides, eliciting a squeal from me. “Come on.” He took my hand and led me through the kitchen. “We have to leave them inside until the guys leave,” he said.

“Sit,” I said. All three rumps hit the floor. “Good sit.”

We went out back. Chris’s backyard was spectacular. Like me, he had a pool and a sizeable lawn.

After completing a quick tour, I turned to him and said, “I can’t wait to see the rest of your house.”

His face didn’t turn white, but almost. He shoved his hands into his pocket and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“What is it?” My stomach churned at his apparent nervousness.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I should have told you sooner. And I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“I should have known you were too good to be true,” I said as the proverbialother shoedropped.

“No, no. It’s not a bad thing. At least, I hope it’s not. Because that would really suck.” He stuck his hands back into his pockets.

“Just spit it out, Chris. I don’t like this.”

“I have a son.”

“Son?” Invisible sweat sprang out all over my body.

“Yeah. Hudson. He’s eight. Almost nine.”

“Where is he?”

“At my parents’ back in Florida.”

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