Page 18 of Swing and a Little Miss

"I'll have a black coffee, and she'll have a caramel latte with almond milk." I glanced at Abby for confirmation and received a delighted smile in return. "And waters, please."

When the waiter left, Abby leaned across the table with a mischievous grin. "How did you know I like almond milk?"

I shrugged, trying to downplay the fact that I'd cataloged every detail I’d learned about her. "I pay attention to things that matter."

For the next hour, we shared bites and stories and got to know each other on a friendly level. She told me about her favorite movies, and I admitted to being the lead singer of my middle school grunge band. We laughed about office gossip—intentionally not mentioning that we'd soon be the subject of it—and played footsies under the table.

Throughout the meal, I couldn’t keep my hands off her. I held her hand and brushed crumbs off her lip. And by the time we got up to leave, I felt like I’d known her my whole life.

Or maybe I’d just been looking for her my whole life.

It was a beautiful day, and I wanted to make it last as long as possible. "There's a park a few blocks down." I kept our fingers intertwined as we left the restaurant. "We could walk off some of those waffles."

“That sounds great.”

I had no idea that the simple act of holding hands in public would feel both ordinary and extraordinary. Anyone who passed us would assume we were just another couple enjoying a weekend stroll, yet every brush of her arm against mine reminded me of how delicious she tasted on my tongue and how precious she was in my arms.

The park was busy with families spreading picnic blankets and college students throwing frisbees. We headed for the walking path that circled a small pond and followed it at a leisurely pace.

"I like watching you at work." Abby was swinging our joined hands slightly between us and looking straight ahead. "It’s sexy the way you’re all serious and in charge."

I laughed. "Serious is sexy?"

She bumped her shoulder against my arm playfully. "Yeah. And now that I’ve seen your other side, it’s even hotter. It's like I get to see both sides of you. Work Royce and Daddy Royce."

Leaning down, I kissed the top of her head. "And which do you prefer?"

She pretended to consider the question by tapping her chin. "Well, Work Royce is very authoritative and powerful in meetings…and looks really good in a suit. But Daddy Royce..." She lowered her voice and leaned against my arm. "Daddy Royce knows exactly how to take care of his baby girl."

Fuck yeah, he did. I was about to find a tree I could lean her up against and ravish her when I noticed her expression changing from playful to alarmed. I followed her gaze and saw a large Canada goose waddling purposefully in our direction. Its neck was extended, and it seriously looked like its eyes were fixed on us—or more specifically, on Abby.

I stepped between her and the approaching bird, but it changed course and circled to approach her from the side. Geese could be surprisingly aggressive, and this one seemed to have some kind of vendetta to avenge.

When it hissed and flapped its wings, Abby let out a small yelp of surprise. In one fluid motion, I scooped her up, and her arms wrapped around my neck. “Damn, girl. Did you barbeque this one’s mate or something?”

"Royce!" She gasped and laughed, smacking my shoulder while keeping her eye on the lunatic bird. "I told you they hate me!"

"Don’t worry, sweetheart.” I kept my voice as serious as possible, despite the absurdity of the situation. “Daddy will save you from this deranged waterfowl."

The goose honked indignantly below us, strutting back and forth as if offended by my intervention.

"My hero.” Abby buried her face against my shoulder as her body shook with laughter. Then, softly against my ear, she whispered, "My silly Daddy."

12

ROYCE

On Monday morning, I arrived at the office and found a black coffee on my desk with a yellow sticky note that had a tiny sketched turtle in pink ink on it. No signature needed.

I caught Abby's eye through the glass wall of my office as she passed by and winked. She didn't wave or nod, but I saw how she pressed her lips together to hide a smile before turning toward her desk.

During dinner on Sunday night, we’d agreed to keep things discreet at work. There wasn’t any official policy on dating colleagues, but Abby didn’t want anyone to treat her differently because she was dating one of the bosses. I respected that even though I did a shit job of keeping my eyes off her anytime she was within my line of sight.

By Tuesday, we'd established a rhythm. We kept a professional distance during morning hours to avoid lingering glances and swoony smiles. And at lunch, we’d nonchalantly run into each other in the small courtyard behind the building. Throughout the day, we’d text and talk about our evening plans because that was what we most looked forward to.

Every night of the week, we had dinner together and then ended up at her place or mine for bathtime, story time, and sexy time. It was every fantasy I’d ever had all rolled up into one.

Wednesday, I heard the first whispers. A few of the girls from accounting had their heads bent together near the coffee machine and went silent when I approached. And then Derek raised an eyebrow when Abby delivered reports to my office instead of emailing them. It was obvious people had sensed the energy between us, and they weren’t dumb enough not to catch on that we were arriving at the same time and leaving at the same time every day, no matter how carefully we planned our movements.

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