Page 192 of The Single Dads Club
“I’ll bet you do,” he countered. “Animals need to be cared for just as much as humans.”
My heart melted a little, and I swallowed hard, trying not to get sucked in to the whirling, twirling human vortex of perfection that was Mason Bentley.
“Anyway, what else do you want to know about me?” I asked.
“What was your favorite toy when you were a kid?”
“What?” I laughed.
“I’m serious. You can tell a lot about a person based on their favorite childhood toy.”
“Even if it was just a doll?” I raised my eyebrows, then took another bite of my green beans.
“What kind of doll?”
“A veterinarian doll set I got for my seventh birthday.” It had been a special gift from my father. He’d run all through all the surrounding cities trying to find one just for me. That was just the kind of guy he’d been.
“What was her name?”
I blushed. “Oh God.”
“Come on,” he coaxed.
“Valerie Veterinarian.”
“You still have her?” he asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “Lost her in a move. But what about you? Favorite childhood toy?”
“Too many to name.”
“Ah, so you were spoiled,” I teased.
“I was well-loved,” he amended with a wide grin.
“I see.” I nodded. “Well, gun to your head, what was your favorite?”
“I don’t know. I guess…I had a stuffed giraffe when I was little. I mean, really little. There are a bunch of pictures of me with it.”
“What was his name?” I asked.
He shrugged. “We had no need for names. Our connection was more spiritual than that.”
I laughed out loud. “Right. Well, good to know.”
We finished our meal and before I got the chance to clean up, Mason grabbed my dish and handled everything for me. Which left me to sit there, wondering what came next. Our conversation was a little awkward, but that was to be expected. We were still in the getting-to-know-you stage. But he was trying—cooking for me, asking questions about me, and attempting to make me feel comfortable. He was one of the good guys—and that’s what scared me.
I couldn’t very well eat and run.
Worse, I didn’t want to.
I wanted to run, all right. Run straight into his bedroom and thank him for dinner in the most intimate way I could. But then, of course, that was only because I knew this time could never be as good as the last.
If I slept with him tonight—which I definitely wasn’t going to—but if Idid? Maybe I’d finally have a lukewarm memory to wash away the searing hotness of our first night together. There was no way it could be as good as I remembered. No way.
Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself as I tried to justify still wanting to sleep with him.
Which Itotallywasn’t going to do.
