Page 18 of Sparks with the Single Dad

“You kind of remind me of a butterfly,” I blurt out, unable to stop myself. Good god, what is it about her and this place that makes all of my thoughts fly out of my mouth unfiltered?

“What?” She laughs, moving on to the next plant to examine it. “How so?”

“Well, with you finding your dream. Your life changing is like a transformation into something new and different.”

“So I was a caterpillar when we met, and now I’m transforming.” Her laughter lights up her eyes as she stands again, apparently done sniffing all of the flowers.

“Exactly.” I’d been nervous about telling her my thoughts, but the smile she flashes at me relieves my worry. She seems super pleased with the comparison, and I’m thankful she didn’t take offense to it.

“Thank you, by the way.” She slips her hand in mine, and we fall into step again. “I was feeling pretty low the day we met, and kind of lost. You helped me more than you’ll ever realize.”

“You did it all yourself. I just gave you a little push. And it was really selfish of me, anyway.”

She stops suddenly, turning on her heel, and a loudcrackechoes around us.

“Damn it. My heel broke.” She leans back against the closest tree, balancing on one leg to bend the other and remove her shoe. She plants that foot firmly back onto the ground and examines her broken shoe with a look I’ve come to recognize as extreme displeasure.

“At least they weren’t my good heels.” She glances up at me, eyes flashing ominously. “What do you mean it was selfish to help me?”

Her hair is coming down from its updo, and her cheeks are flushed red from the heat. She’s absolutely breathtaking, her dress clinging to every curve of her body, the hem bunched around her thighs leaving little to my imagination. But man is it going wild anyway.

“Fuck it,” I whisper, closing the distance between us in two steps.

My hands land on her waist, and I cover her mouth with mine before I can second-guess myself again. Her lips mold to mine, soft and perfect and eager beneath my touch. Her arms wrap around my neck, her hands locking behind my head, and she pulls me to her, deepening our kiss. We’re a thrilling tangle of tongues and lips, and my hands move from her hips to her ass, the bark of the tree scraping my knuckles, but I couldn’t care less as her full cheeks fill my palms. We pause to take a breath, our mouths barely an inch apart, and I trace her lips with the tip of my tongue.

“The peach is almost as delicious as you,” I whisper, enjoying the tangy mixture of her and the wine lingering in my mouth.

“We definitely need a bottle to take with us, then,” she suggests, her eyes filled with the suggestion that we leave together.

After a moment’s consideration, I nod, releasing her reluctantly.

She reaches down and takes off the other shoe. “And I guess I’ll be doing so barefoot.” She laughs and glances around. When she spots a trash can, she walks over and tosses the shoes in.

“Here, hop on.” I stoop down. “I’ll carry you.”

“On your back?” Her dubious tone is obvious.

“Yes, on my back. C’mon.”

“Fine, fine.” She laughs, climbing onto me clumsily, and as I stand up with her latched on to me, the feel of her body pressed against mine reminds me of how much I want her. Her thighs are wrapped tightly around my waist, giving me ideas about how else they could wrap around me. It’s going to be a tantalizing walk to our Uber.

By the time we grab a bottle of the peach and head back to the street, our driver is waiting on us, and I’m kind of sad because Phoebe slides down my back and lands on the pavement easily before slipping into the back seat of the car. I get in after her, eager to pick up where we left off, and when I reach for her, she comes to me willingly. Our kisses are slower this time, savoring the moment, and although I’m reluctant to, I break the connection because I don’t want our first time to be in the back of an Uber.

I’m not even sure we should at all tonight, but I’m going to go with the flow and let the pieces fall where they may.

“Want to come back to my place?” Phoebe snuggles into the crook of my arm as the Uber pulls into traffic. “We can pop open this wine and watch a movie or something.”

“Sure,” I agree.

Phoebe calls up to the driver. “Hey, do you mind if we change up where we’re going?”

“Not at all,” he replies.

Phoebe rattles off her address, and the driver updates his GPS. Her street name sounds familiar, but as I’m trying to remember where I’ve heard it, she starts talking and I shift my focus.

“It’s been a great night. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you decided to show up for it.” My tone is light and teasing, but the words are genuine. “Although I was about to order dinner when you came over. We may have to do that while we watch the movie. I’m starving.”

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