Page 11 of Single Dad Christmas

“Language, Noah.”

He could have screamed. He could have shouted every curse word he knew. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “You are going to go to your room and do some homework. When you’ve decided you can be polite and civil to Kristen, who will be here until I get back, you may join her for dinner.”

“Oh, gosh, howkindof you. What a benevolent jailer you are, to permit me time to walk to my own kitchen and eat a meal.” She rolled her eyes again for good measure.

“Or you can stay in your room and act like a two-year-old having a tantrum. It’s up to you.”

Nothing took the wind out of a teen’s sails like being called a toddler, he’d come to realise.

“I hate you,” she hurled at him, but to his relief, she did turn on her heel and stalk towards the stairs, which led to her bedroom.

“Good night, Taylor,” he called to her retreating back. He was pretty sure she moved her hand in a very rude gesture in response.

He sagged against the wall afterward, totally sapped by the argument. By all the arguments. He almost couldn’t bear the way she spoke to him, the way she really did seem to hate him.

And just like that, the pleasurable anticipation he’d been feeling all day, at the prospect of taking Louisa to dinner, evaporated. He still wanted to see her, but he wasn’t sure he wanted her to see this version of him. He felt infuriated and devastated, all at once.

Even if shehadn’t been expecting him, Louisa somehow would have known that Noah would drive this kind of car. A sleek SUV, she saw as it drew nearer that it was a prestigious European brand. It was a gunmetal grey, matte in colour, with darkly tinted windows, and the hubcaps had the kind of shine indicating they’d never been crunched into the gutter. She waited on the footpath—somehow it felt less intimate than being inside and having him ring the doorbell—so saw the moment he turned the corner.

And her pulse leaped accordingly, whoosh, bang, whoosh, like a river racing, rushing, threatening to burst its banks.

He pulled over and cut the engine, stepping out of the car. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting him to wear—maybe still his suit? But instead, Noah had changed into dark denim jeans, a pair of loafers, and a pale blue button-up shirt, with the collar a little raised at the back and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his tanned, toned forearms to her very thirsty gaze.

She tried to swallow but found her tongue was too thick, or something. Instead, she took a step forward and mortifyingly held her hand out to shake. He gave her one of those lopsided smiles, albeit a little tight, then took it. Only unlike their handshake earlier that day, this was different. Slower. Everything was slower, from the blinking of her eyes to the curveof her lips to the way the light summer breeze seemed to lift her hair off her neck and pull it away from her face.

“Hey,” she said, her fingertips sparking from his touch.

“Hey,” he repeated, his hand still holding hers. He let go then, but he gave her hand a little squeeze first. It was unlike any other handshake she’d ever been a party to.

“Where are we?—,”

“Do you mind if we?—,”

They started, and stopped, talking at the same time.

“You go,” she said, flushing to the roots of her hair. She felt like a teenager, going on her first date. But thiswasn’ta date, she had to remind herself forcibly. Just as she’d had to remind herself when she’d chosen what to wear for tonight and ended up opting for a pair of linen shorts and a singlet top. It was casual, but still somewhat professional. Okay, she’d always thought the shorts flattered her figure and the singlet was dipped a little low at the front, and she knew this shade of peach flattered her skin tone, but so what? Was it a crime to want to look your best?

“I was going to ask if you particularly wanted to eat out?”

She looked at him, not completely understanding. “You want to cancel…this?”

“No, no,” he replied, so quickly and forcibly that she almost lost her breath, because he clearlydidn’twant to cancel. Not even a little bit. Which meant, she hoped, that he was looking forward to this as much as she was.

“So—,” she prompted, waiting for him to explain.

“I have reservations at Harry Hanks,” he said, referring to one of the premiere restaurants in Sydney. She knew that because she’d taken clients there when they were in need of schmoozing.

“Lovely,” she said, thinking of the huge open space with views out over Bondi with a strange lack of enthusiasm. Whilethe restaurant was exceptional it was still very…peopley. And she wasn’t sure she was in the mood for people.

His brow furrowed. “We can go there, if you’d like. It’s just?—,”

“Yes?” She asked, again resenting her voice for coming out all husky, eager, and intimate.

“To be frank, I’ve just had a huge argument with Taylor, and I’m pretty bloody steamed up.” He laughed, but it was heavy with stress. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in just walking around a bit?”

The sun had only set in the last twenty minutes or so, and the sky was still tinged with a hint of orange. “I’m happy to walk,” she said because she was. She didn’t have his reason, but at the same time, it felt as though she was bursting apart at the seams, and she wasn’t sure a restaurant could contain her.

“Are you sure?”

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