Page 105 of Single Dad Dilemma
“We can start easy.” His thumb tapped the edge of the counter, like he was keeping time as he thought of where to start. “You go first.”
“Can’t we play Scrabble again?”
His eyes warmed, and the breath caught in my throat when his lips twitched. The corners moved up a little farther. Barrett leaned in, lowering his voice like someone might overhear us in this big empty house where we were the only occupants. “Guess what word Maggie and I used to beat Bryce and Griffin last night?”
“No.” I leaned back in my chair, appraising him openly. “Does that mean you officially recant your cheating accusations?”
“Maybe.”
There was no smothering my smile, especially when a sweet ache took residence under my skin. If someone were bored and wanted to give that sensation a name, it might be something likelongingoraffection. But I wasn’t bored, and I certainly wasn’t looking to name anything at the moment. Barrett’s eyes dropped, locking in on an unconscious movement, and when I looked down, my fingers were brushing against the birds inked on my wrist.
“How about this,” he said simply, eyes still locked on the absent brush of my fingers against my skin, “you ask me whatever you want.”
I arched a brow. “And you’re not asking me anything?”
“Later. When you’re ready.”
“No questions about ... about yesterday,” I said, an invisible fist closing around my throat. I forced a swallow, watching his profile carefully.
“Deal.” He pulled butter out of the fridge, along with a couple packages of sliced cheese—sharp cheddar and gouda—and then two plates from the upper cabinets. “Just one for you?” he asked.
When he didn’t press, I let out a deep breath and nodded.
Barrett set out a large skillet and turned on the burner beneath, then buttered three pieces of bread, laying them face down.
I folded my leg up against my chest, setting my chin on my knee while I watched him flip those grilled cheeses like he’d been doing it his whole damn life. Maybe I had a competency kink. That had to be it, right? Because it was ridiculous to be this impressed by a man toasting me some bread with a little cheese in the middle.
My standards were higher than that. Too high, some might say, considering my ass was still unmarried and there’d been no one who tempted me to do anything of the sort. But someone had tempted him, once upon a time.
Curiosity rose up, swift and fierce, slamming past my hefty reserve.
There was no pale ring on his finger, no leftover sign that there’d been a Mrs. Barrett King. What had she been like? What had they been like together?
“I’ll play,” I told him.
The glance he gave me over his shoulder was quick and impossible to read. “Hit me.”
Questions about the ex danced on the edge of my tongue.
No. Not yet.
“Favorite movie.”
He flipped the sandwiches again, giving each one a quick tap with the spatula. “Cinderella Man.” Then he paused. “OrRudy.”
I shook my head, and he must’ve caught it in his peripheral.
“What?” he asked. “You think I’m predictable?”
“A former football player turned coach who lovesRudy? Yes.”
“You’re telling me that movie doesn’t inspire the hell out of you?”
“Never seen it,” I replied.
He hummed briefly, like he was thinking about something. “Good thing we’ve got time, then.”
A brief, vivid image popped up in the back of my mind—me and Barrett and a dark room and a couch and blankets. It was so date-like. Dates involved movies and questions and food and intention. According to him, his intentions were pure: keep me from freezing to death and whatnot. It didn’t explain why my brain didn’t get the memo. Those images went from PG to fairly explicit very quickly.
