Page 13 of Penthouse Prince
“Oh,” I say, not exactly a witty response, but it’s the best I’ve got.
I can’t help but sneak a peek at his left hand. Sure enough, his fourth finger is bare. Could Lexington really be a single dad? I don’t even know how to begin processing that information.
“Well, I’ve gotta get this one down for a nap,” he says, breaking the uncomfortable silence as he returns little Grier to her stroller. “But you and I should catch up. Swing by later? I just got a new espresso machine that you can help me break in.” His gaze lingers on mine and my body warms under the scrutiny of his blue eyes.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, eyeing my car in my peripheral vision. “I have plans with Sarah Jo, actually. I should probably—”
“Tomorrow then,” he says, voice softening. “Please?”
I draw in a long breath, holding it behind my lips as I think through my reply.
I could feed him some corny line about him being part of my past, not my present. Or I could muster up an excuse about having plans for tomorrow too. I could even just flat-out tell him no.
But I don’t.
Instead, when I let out that breath I’ve been holding, what comes out is, “Text me your address.”
He arches one thick, dark brow in my direction. “Same number as high school?”
“Same number,” I say with a nod, immediately realizing my mistake. If I still have the same number, then . . .
“Then why didn’t you reply to my voice mail?” He finishes my thought out loud, the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
“I was busy,” I say quickly, my voice wavering ever so slightly.
Lexington’s eyes narrow with skepticism. He’s always possessed the unique ability to know when I’m lying, even when no one else can tell. It looks like that skill hasn’t worn off in the last ten years.
Luckily, I’m not lying about my plans with Sarah Jo this afternoon. We have a twelve thirty brunch reservation, and I definitely need to go home and shower first.
Checking my smartwatch, I wince at the time. “I really have to get going. I’ve got a reservation to make.”
He nods. “Well, it was good to see you.”
“Good to, um, yeah,” I stammer. But by the look in his eyes, I’m guessing he can see right through that lie too.
After a short drive consisting of me screaming into the silence in my car, and questioning if the last ten minutes of my life were some weird dream, I’m back home.
Not for long, though. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I’m back in the car in under half an hour, firing off a text to Sarah Jo before I hit the gas.
On my way now. I hope you’re ready for some crazy news.
My phone buzzes with her reply almost immediately. No words, just about a million exclamation points. God, I love this girl.
We arrive at the restaurant at about the same time, sharing a quick hug in front of the hostess stand before we’re taken to a table near the back. Thank goodness we snagged a reservation in advance. There isn’t an empty table in this place.
Normally, I’d be bothered by all the noise of a crowded restaurant, but not today. Whatever it takes to drown out the enormous gasp Sarah Jo is going to let out when I drop this bomb on her.
The second we sit down, my best friend props her elbows on the table, leaning into full-on gossip mode. “Okay, spill. What’s the big news?”
I fill her in on the details of my run-in this morning, including the fact that Lexington Dane is, much to my dismay, even better looking than he was in high school. And to add insult to injury, my pit stains were half the size of the state of Texas when he saw me.
“Worst timing ever.” She groans, her voice brimming with sympathy. “I think you deserve extra pancakes for having to deal with that.”
Before she can bury her nose too far in the menu, I hit her with the coup de grâce, the information that takes this whole Lexington thing from weird to wild.
“There’s one more tiny thing,” I say, pinching my fingers together to form an itty-bitty space I can barely see through. “Well, not that tiny. But small enough to still fit in a crib, if you get my gist.”
Sarah Jo drops her menu, her brows knitting together. “What do you . . .” Before she can finish the thought, it finally clicks, and her whole face goes totally slack. “No freaking way. Are you telling me he has a kid?”
I nod. “A daughter. But there’s no ring on his finger. So I think he’s a single dad.”
Sarah Jo’s jaw drops as she leans back in her seat, pressing her fingers into her temples. “This is actually too much for me to handle.”
