Page 63 of The Single Dad Project

Justine beamed up at her, and Flo returned the smile. Watching the two of them, the little girl so enamored with the woman, a knot of emotion twisted around his throat.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Gently turning Justine back around, Flo resumed twisting his daughter’s hair and shot him a look.

“We already ate, but I left a plate for you in the microwave,” she informed him.

“Thank you,” he said again.

He had the feeling those two words would become a habit with her. It was funny how life worked. He’d gone to that dive bar over a month ago, looking for a drink or two and a couple hours to relax before heading back to the house for the night. A one-night stand with a gorgeous woman hadn’t been his plan. Having that same gorgeous woman show up at his job and then slowly become a part of his and his daughter’s daily lives... No, it was almost surreal.

And it unnerved him that if he could press Rewind on these past weeks and have the choice of going forward, of going to that bar and meeting Flo, he wouldn’t change one moment.

Unnerved him... Hell, it terrified him. Had him reeling.

Hadn’t he learned anything from being with a woman who didn’t have family, commitment and stability as her priorities? Didn’t he and Justine still bear the scars, still endure the repercussions?

Flo was young—over a decade younger than him—and was just coming into her own in her career. When they’d met, she’d just returned from a weeks-long trip abroad. As a parent, he couldn’t just up and leave. He had more than himself to consider. Flo wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility; she didn’t want that kind of responsibility. Not right now.

At twenty-four, she didn’t have enough life experience under her belt, and it would be the height of selfishness to expect her to sacrifice what most people had at her age to take on an instant family. Babysitting was one thing; parenting was another. And in the long run, it would be Justine who was hurt.

And you.

He shoved that ridiculous thought aside. He was too old to confuse lust with anything deeper, more permanent. The time had come and gone when his dick did his thinking for him.

Yet, as he retrieved his dinner plate, heated it and brought it back to the living room to sit with Flo and Justine, a calm settled over him. A peace. He’d missed this. Missed the simplicity of evenings with laughter, easy conversation. Of family.

No, Flo wasn’t his and Justine’s family, but maybe he could allow himself to pretend just for a little while. What was the harm in it if he kept it to himself and understood it was just...pretend?

No harm.

As he leaned against the back of the couch, cold beer bottle in hand, listening to Flo and Justine as she helped the little girl get ready for bed—Justine begged him to let Flo do the nightly duty—he let himself believe just a little bit longer.

Just for tonight.

“For my own information,” Flo said, entering the living room and sinking down on the other end of the sofa, “how many bedtime stories do you usually read her?”

“One. But she can sometimes weasel two out of me,” he admitted.

Flo narrowed her eyes. “She said you read her four stories.”

He snorted. “Tell me you didn’t fall for that.”

Wrinkling her nose, she leaned forward and nabbed his beer. She took a deep sip, and it had his cock twitching. The sight of those full, sensual lips covering the opening of the bottle where his own mouth had just been... Did she taste him and the alcohol?

He fought not to shift on the couch cushion and betray the heat pumping through his veins. Why that should be so hot, he couldn’t even begin to explain. But fuck if it wasn’t.

“No, I didn’t fall for it,” she said, lowering the bottle.Thank God.“I read three.”

He barked out a laugh. “Sucker.”

Sighing, she offered his drink back to him. “Don’t I know it. She got me.”

His fingers grazed hers as he took the bottle, and he stiffened, unable to prevent the reaction. Her gaze dropped to where they touched before lifting to him. In her eyes, he glimpsed apprehension, a hint of confusion and,damn, heat. So much heat.

Flo Dennison was dangerous.

To his resolve. To his best intentions. To his—

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