Page 8 of The Single Dad's Guide to Recreation

“You mean the department heads?” Suddenly exhausted, I drop into a chair and trace a finger along the table etched with the ghosts of art projects past. “I don’t get it.”

She sits kitty-corner to me. “This is our chance to communicate our priorities while they’re still in the design phase.”

“They who? And what design phase?”

“Trede is planning major upgrades at CPR.” She hops up to grab a folder from her desk. After slapping it down in front of me, she claps her hands with a little squeal. “The new place is going to be awesome.”

“But”—I look around the room as her words begin to sink in—“what about the old place?”

“Oh yeah. I’ll besosadto say goodbye to these dropped ceilings with stained and broken tiles.” She rolls her eyes so hard it looks painful. “And the busted, out-of-date equipment that never gets replaced.” She flicks a graceful hand in the direction of some old machine that hasn’t worked in so long I’m not even sure what it was used for. “Not to mention the mysterious stink in the kitchen.” She shudders briefly before wagging a finger back and forth in time with her words. “This complex was hastily built in the nineteen seventies and poorly maintained since, and you know it.”

“Yeah, but…” I squirm in my chair, trying to find a defense for our poor old rec center.

“And look at all the things they want to add!” Daisy opens the folder and jabs a finger at a colorful printout. “Look at this mockup for the art room. All that natural light! I could finally teach pottery.”

“You already teach pottery.” Since I manage the programs, I know this is the case.

“For beginners. With only one working wheel and no kiln, all they can do is pinch pots.” She jumps up from her chair and spins in a circle, her skirt swooping around her legs in a perfect swirl. “Just think! We could be excited about coming to work instead of worried that the ceiling will leak or the toilet will be clogged.”

I have to stifle a groan because… she’s right. I guess I need to talk to Josh. I just hope I can do it without rubbing up against him like a cat in heat.

ChapterFour

JOSH

My mom got a little too excited when I announced that I’d be taking Percy to Playgroup a couple mornings a week going forward, which has me worried that running around after an almost-two-year-old is harder than they’d expected. My parents volunteered to take over as primary caregivers so I could go back to work, but I know all too well that summer days taking care of kids can be long ones. They are young grandparents, and in great shape, but I’ll be the first to admit that my kids are a lot.

I’m also a little worried that I won’t be able to get through the class without embarrassing myself. That my attraction to this program’s leader will be all too obvious. So, for the entire drive from our house to the Parks and Rec center, I give both me and my son a pep talk.

“I bet it’ll be fun to play with other kids your age, Percy.”

As he whacks the back of the seat with a stuffie, Percy shouts, “Pay!”

Good reminder, Josh. You’ll pay in more ways than one if you screw up this job just because you can’t keep your lust in check.

The toy goes flying into the front seat just as I pull into a parking spot. Before he can let out a howl of disappointment, I ask, “Ready to play with new toys?”

I learned pretty early on that one of the secrets to living with little kids is distraction followed by redirection. He’s still chanting something that sounds vaguely like “new toy” as I unbuckle his car seat. Since we’re running late, I scoop him into my arms. “Run?”

“Wun!”

I located the Playgroup classroom after my meeting with Leia—not that I was hoping to run into Avery, just making sure I knew where to go—and I sprint down the hall toward it now, with Percy giggling in my arms. The door is closing as we approach, so I call out, “Wait, please!”

Instead of opening the door wider, the woman of my dreams steps into the hall. When she sees me, she closes it firmly behind her, giving me a look like,What doyouwant?

“I’m here for the class,” I say, a little breathless.

“Cass!” Percy shouts.

She flinches, like she hadn’t noticed the toddler on my hip, but then her narrowed gaze zeroes back in on me. “What? Did you rent a kid so you could spy on me?”

“I, uh—” I falter, wondering if she really thinks I’d rent a kid. “I’m not here for work. I’m here to take part in the class. This is my son.”

An entire movie’s worth of emotion plays across her face as her eyes shift between my little guy and me, but I’m not sure if it’s a rom-com or a disaster film.

“I suppose you do look alike.” Her tone and expression remain stiff until she turns to my son, and then it’s all sunshine and rainbows. “What’s your name, friend?”

“Pussy.”

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