Page 36 of The Single Dad Project

“Let’s go, Daddy.” She tugged on his hand, already skipping ahead.

He easily kept stride with her to the jukebox, and once there, helped her find a song she liked and slid a dollar into the feeder. In seconds the latest Taylor Swift song streamed out of the speakers, and he strolled back over to his booth, leaving Justine to wiggle her body and wave her arms to the music. Taylor. Beyoncé. Lizzo. His daughter loved them all, and whenever they came on the internet radio stations Adam set for Justine, she could entertain herself for a while dancing and singing along to the lyrics.

“Oh my God, she’s adorable.” Flo shook her head, a smile curving her lips.

For the first time since their night together, humor and delight washed away her guarded expression, and he dragged his gaze from that full, sensual mouth that he knew all too well.

“I have a Swiftie under my roof. I’ve come to terms with it,” he muttered.

She snorted. “Could be worse. I mean, she could be over there singing about a wet ass—”

“Stop,” he growled, snapping up a hand. “I don’t even want to think about that. Ever. And besides, I seriously doubt Grace has Cardi B in her jukebox.”

“You don’t know what Grace and Ron get up to after hours. Including putting on some Cardi and doing what grown folks do.”

“You got that right, honey,” Grace chimed in, appearing beside their table with a plastic carafe of water and the promised syrup. She set the syrup in front of Flo then leaned forward and topped off his and Justine’s glasses. Afterward, she straightened with a wink in his direction. “You’re not married for as long as me and my Ron and not learn a few things to keep it fresh.”

“Um...” He had nothing.

“I think you broke him, Grace,” Flo said, unrestrained glee coloring her tone.

“Come around here some more. You’ll get used to it,” the diner owner assured him with a pat to his upper arm. “Now, I’m about to go over there and feed another dollar into that box so your cute lil’ girl can keep doing her thing. Folks didn’t know they would get dinneranda show this evening. She’s great for business.”

Grace headed toward Justine, and when she reached her, she knelt next to her.

“Do you mind?” Flo’s soft question distracted him, and she removed a camera, different than the one she used on the reno set, from the bag on the booth seat. Lifting it and an eyebrow, she said, “I don’t like to take photos of children without their parents’ permission. And if she seems uncomfortable with it, I’ll stop.”

If it’d been anyone else, he might have politely but firmly turned them down. But not her. Not Flo. He couldn’t explain the “why” of it, but he’d witnessed her work ethic these past two weeks. Seen some of the digital downloads of the photos himself. There was a quiet...joy in her work. And while he still harbored some doubts about her résumé for the renovation, he couldn’t deny her talent or the care she took. Plus, her asking his permission proved that. And had him inching down the extremely high protective hedge he’d built around his family of two.

He nodded, and with a smile, Flo shifted past him, raising the camera to her face as she moved.

Graceful.

Though she commanded his attention as she neared his daughter and the older woman, she remained unintrusive, letting their interaction play out. Catching the laughter and grins on their faces—one rounded and so painfully innocent in youth, and the other leaner, creased with lines from life and experience in her maturity—Flo deftly moved from one position to the next, the succession of muted clicks whirring away.

Justine caught sight of Flo as the next song by Beyoncé filled the diner, and his daughter waved hard, then being the little performer she was, started to dance and twirl, putting on more of a show for Grace and Flo. And when the older woman joined in, Justine’s light, high-pitched laughter was infectious.

He glanced around, ready to call a halt to their shenanigans if the other diners appeared disturbed, but the patrons at the counter and in the booths laughed and some even sang along.

What was this place? When had he stumbled onto the set of a Disney TV show, and better question: Why wasn’t he charging toward the exit? He shook his head as Flo returned, her focus on the tiny screen on the back of her camera.

“I got some really wonderful shots,” she said, that unguarded smile still claiming her mouth. “I’ll make sure to send them over to you.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” She carefully replaced her equipment in its carrying case and zipped it closed. Standing next to him, she crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of the booth. “She’s a natural.”

“If bynaturalyou mean a ham, then yes, she is,” he replied, tone wry. “She doesn’t get it from me.”

Flo tipped her head to the side, her eyes widened and her lips parted on an exaggerated gasp.

“No! You don’t say!” At his grunt, she chuckled and shifted her gaze back to Justine. “I don’t mean to pry—”

“Which just means that’s exactly what you’re about to do,” he drawled, sensing where this was headed.

“True,” she conceded with a huff of laughter. “But I’m also prefacing it with please feel free to tell me to mind my own business.” She paused, but when he didn’t say anything, she said with a hint of hesitation, “Where is Justine’s mother?”

He’d been correct. Inhaling a breath, he held it then slowly released it after a couple of long moments. But the tightness in his frame didn’t abate. When the topic of Jennifer came up, this seemed to be his body’s default reaction.

---