Page 19 of For The Weekend
He smacks her ass so she yelps, and that’s my cue to keepwalking. Jaybird and Cash are posted up outside Stone Ink, ready to pass out flyers and stick-on tattoos, and I steal one before settling behind my table, ready for the crowds, which come in dribs and drabs for the first hour and then suddenly all at once. Mio shows up in time for me to refill our samples, and I spend a lot of time introducing myself to people and grabbing pics and videos for social media.
I’ve just finished punching some cards for patrons when Mazie plows into my side. “Hiii!”
I laugh. “You on roller skates or what?”
“I don’t got roller skates,” she says seriously, lifting her feet to show me.
“I’m kidding. You want another treat?”
She nods and claps, her puppy tail practically wagging, and I let her choose if she wants a bun or a scone, and she goes with another roll.
“Your dad is gonna kill me, giving you all this sugar.”
“No, he won’t.” She gestures vaguely behind her, and I glance up to spy Roman talking to Jaybird and Cash, but he looks over as if he can sense me watching him. I smile his way as his daughter confesses, “I think he likes you.”
“What?” I shoot my gaze at her. “What’d you say?”
She licks the icing off her fingers, completely unaware she’s sent my thoughts careening off the tracks, and shrugs.
With Roman still staring at me, I stutter. “I just… Your dad… I…”
“Look at this!” She thrusts out her arm to show me her stick-on tattoo, and I show off my matching one, which delights her. “Can I stay with you? Daddy has to talk to people about cars. Fuck that!”
I stifle a laugh. “I doubt your daddy wants you cursing like that, but sure, you can stay with me.” I lift my attention once again. Roman’s still watching me, and I can’t help but bepleased.Can she stay with me?I mouth, pointing from Mazie to myself, and when he nods, I reach out for a napkin. “You’re with me. Come on, you can sit next to Mio.”
I set her up at the table and put her in charge of handing everyone a business card because no one can resist how cute she is, and the next time I peek at the tables next door, Roman’s speaking with an older gentleman, pointing out something on one of his marketing pamphlets. He doesn’t exactly exude suave businessman with his beard, muscles, and tattoos, but he seems to be doing all right for himself, even with all his frowns.
“Is your dad grumpy a lot?” I ask Mazie, absently stacking napkins into a pile.
“Most times. But he likes being with Steve and me. He smiles when we cuddle.”
“Oh yeah? Who’s Steve?”
She swings her feet. “My bunny rabbit! He’s brown and has long ears like this…” She demonstrates how long Steve the bunny’s ears are by holding her hands by her shoulders. “Daddy says he doesn’t like Steve, but I know he’s lying. He loves Steve. Like,loveshim.”
I imagine Roman, Mazie, and Steve all cuddled together, and I need to stop by CVS for a pregnancy test.
“You should come over to play with Steve,” Mazie continues. “He’s so fast. He goes…” She zips her fingers all over the place. “And sometimes I lose him, but Daddy always finds him, and then he looks at me like this…” She screws her face up in what I assume is an impression of her father. “But that’s okay because even when he’s mad, he still loves me. That’s what he says.”
“You have a really good daddy.” I place my hand on my lower abdomen, my insides literally weeping. What is it about men who are good fathers that’s so sexy?
I don’t know, but I’m down bad. So much so that I’m noteven really listening to Mazie as she goes on and on about her loose tooth and playing with Sloane’s children.
A familiar voice snaps me out of my daze. “There she is.”
I inhale a calming breath and smooth my hand over Mazie’s forehead, pushing back a few wisps of her hair before spinning around to face Kyle.
“Hey, Ellie,” he says again, flashing me a chummy grin that immediately puts me on edge. Only Sloane, my best friend and sister of my heart, calls me Ellie. To everyone else, I’m Eloise or Elle. Kyle continues smiling, oblivious to my discomfort.
“Hi, Kyle,” I reply, keeping my tone light despite my irritation. I glance around, hoping a customer will appear to give me an excuse to ignore him. No such luck.
He leans in, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “You’ve been so busy today, we haven’t had a chance to chat. Figured I’d come over and see how my favorite baker is doing.”
I force a tight smile, cringing internally. He’s been coming to talk to me occasionally for over a year. At first, I thought the guy was lonely. I figured maybe he wasn’t good at making friends, but then it didn’t stop, and these “chats” kept getting longer and longer. Since I started to understand that he feels more than friendly toward me, I’ve dodged any and all attempts when he asks me to hang out.
I don’t like saying no all the time, but I don’t get good vibes from him.
A little bit too Norman Bates for my tastes.
