Page 38 of The Single Dad Project

Then why the sadness? Why the darkness he’d glimpsed in her expression? The more he uncovered about Flo Dennison, the more he craved to peel back the next layer. And this woman was created oflayers. That presented a clear and present danger to him. He feared he wouldn’t want to—wouldn’t be able to—stop once he started.

“The little girl who could get up there in front of a diner full of people and sing and dance...the girl who’s over there chatting up a stranger like he’s her long-lost best friend is someone who possesses a confidence that is nurtured. She doesn’t fear rejection because, even with her mother not physically with her every day, she knows she’s loved. That says a lot about you as a father, Adam.”

A fist-size ball of emotion—too thick to parse through—lodged in the base of his throat.

He’d needed to hear that. God, he hadn’t even known how much he’d needed it until now.

Until she’d said it in her low, husky voice.

He raised his glass for another sip of water, but maybe she recognized he needed a moment because she returned her focus to her plate and resumed eating.

“What about you? You mentioned being one of seven children. Where do you fall in?” he asked, switching the subject away from him.

Strictly self-preservation andnota need to hear her talk or learn more about her.

Funny how denial sounded a hell of a lot like lying.

“I’m fifth.”

“And how many of your brothers and sisters are...”

He didn’t know why he hesitated over “adopted.” Not like it was a curse. But probably because of how she’d described her father’s view of his children, it seemed...wrong to segregate them.

“Adopted,” she said with a half smile. “You can say it. We don’t consider it a dirty word in our house. It’s just how we came to be family. It doesn’t determine how much family we are.” While she lifted a glass of orange juice to her mouth, he let that sink in. And tightened his grip around his own glass to prevent himself from rubbing a fist over his chest where those unexpected words had taken a direct hit. “There are four of us. Cole, me, Sonny and Cher are adopted, and Wolf, Leo and Sinead are my parents’ biological children.”

“Wait.” He frowned, holding up a hand. Did she just...? No way. “Did you just say Sonny and Cher?”

She grinned, and he blinked, briefly stunned at that unfettered, free and gorgeous smile.

Damn.

It dawned on him in that moment that Flo had never trulysmiledat him until right now. He’d received a smirk, a soft half smile, even a teasing grin, but never...this, where her entire face brightened as if with an inner light. She appeared younger, and God, she was just twenty-four. And yet, a twenty-four-year-old who carried a weight that lent her brown eyes more wisdom than someone her age should possess.

But not here. Not now.

He already hungered to see this special side of her again. He wanted more.

“You heard right.” She laughed. “My parents named all their kids after musicians and composers.”

“So your brother and sister, Sonny and Cher—No,” he said, staring at her.Gapingat her. Becauseno.

She snickered. “Oh yes. Story for another time, but Cole was already named after John Coltrane from birth. But me and the twins, we had the choice of keeping our birth names or legally changing them when we reached an appropriate age. For some reason—to this day, none of us have ever figured out how they even discovered who they were—they were adamant about being called Sonny and Cher. Sometimes, I don’t know what my parents were thinking not using their veto power on that one.” She shook her head, that beautiful smile still lighting her face.

He loosed a bark of laughter, leaning against the back of the booth.

“So Wolf would be...” He narrowed his eyes. “Wolfgang? As in Amadeus?”

“Yep. And you want to see a grown man cry? Call him that in mixed company.”

Still trying to wrap his mind around her family’s unique situation, he cocked his head, considering her.

“And you? Florence?” he asked.

When he’d initially discovered her full name, he’d been a little surprised. It was pretty, yes, if a little old-fashioned. But after watching her the past two weeks, it fit her. Elegant, reserved, beautiful. He knew what lay underneath that reserve, though. How hot she could burn.

Focus, dammit. Don’t even go there.

“Florence Ballard from the Supremes.”

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