Page 15 of A Little Spilled Milk

We batted questions and answers back and forth: favorite colors, foods, TV programs, and movies.

Another grinding and we were moving again, but Vinnie closed his eyes and buried his head against my chest. I helped him out of the pod once we got down to earth, and he thanked me for looking after him.

“That’s what I do.” Not for others. I was kind to strangers, friends, and neighbors, but if I was to become Vinnie’s Daddy, it was my job to look after him.

“Ice cream time.”

“Ohhh, can I have a pretzel too?” He danced around me, singing that he liked having his feet in the ground.

I would have refused because a corn dog and ice cream followed by a pretzel might make him sick, but I agreed because of what had happened.

“You sure you won’t get a pain in your tummy?”

“Never.”

Armed with ice cream and pretzels, we headed toward the parking lot. The incident on the Ferris wheel had soured Vinnie on any more rides today.

He sat in the passenger seat taking alternate licks of his ice cream and bites of the pretzel. The ice cream was melting faster than he could eat it, and it dribbled down his arms and dripped onto the seat, while salt from the pretzel sparkled on his lips.

“This is so good. Pretzels and ice cream should always be eaten together, especially with sprinkles and salt.

“Maybe you can start a trend.”

“Thank you for today.” He got out of the car, wiping his hands on his shirt.

I cleared my throat and jerked my head at the car seat.

“Oh, I should clean it.”

“We’ll both do it.”

After wiping up the mess, we strolled up the stairs. I didn’t want the day to end. It hadn’t gone entirely to plan, but we’d gotten through it together.

“I had a great time.” He lunged at me, grabbing me with his sticky fingers and hugging me tight.

“Me too.” I wrapped my arms around him. Putting a finger under his chin, I said, “I’d like to kiss you.”

9

VINNIE

My breath caught as Emory’s hand found mine, our fingers intertwining. That was when I knew, the night wasn’t going to end at the door. At least not if I had anything to say about it.

The date had been everything I wanted and somehow more. He was kind—no surprise—but he was also fun and nurturing, and the night flew by. There were no awkward lulls in our conversations, I didn’t feel like I had to hide any of myself from him, and he let me eat junk food. And yeah, “let” is a weird thing to be concerned with, but I was looking at him as a potential Daddy. This hadn’t been a typical date. It was a quasi test run.

So when we reached our hallway, he hugged me close and said, “I’d like to kiss you.” There was no denying him.

“I want nothing more.” Holding back wasn’t in the cards for tonight, there was no point in pretending otherwise. “But not a good night kiss. Come inside?”

His breath tickled my ear. “Lead the way.”

The moment I invited Emory into my bedroom, the rest of the world fell away. Nothing existed beyond the inviting curve of hislips as he smiled at me, the way he looked at me as if I was his next snack, the warmth of his hand intertwined with mine.

He pulled me close, our mouths meeting in a deep, searching kiss. Emory’s full lips were soft yet firm, parting with a sigh as he teased the seam of my lips with his tongue. I could spend hours just kissing him, tasting him, exploring his mouth.

His hands skimmed down my back, pulling my hips flush against his. Even through layers of clothing, the hard press of his arousal against my middle made my heart stutter, my own hardness begging to be set free.

We undressed each other slowly, stealing kisses between each piece of clothing shed. Emory was a Daddy. He’s shown that over and over again tonight. But in this, he didn’t push, didn’t try to take control. It was as if he wanted this to be us, just us, and not our roles.

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