Page 24 of The Single Dad Dilemma

“So you’re going out tonight then? That sounds like fun,” he says.

It’s another subject change I’m grateful for.

“That’s the plan,” I say.

“Well, I hope you have a good time. You’ve done a good job with Lou this week and you deserve to relax.”

I feel my praise kink activate a little bit with all this “good job” talk and decide it’s time to get the hell out of here.

“Thanks. I really appreciate that. Lou is great. She makes it easy,” I say. “I’ll leave you to your kid-free weekend. I’m sure you’re good and ready to relax yourself.”

“Pizza and beer and baking show reruns await me.” He makes a strange huffing sound.

I leave Ridge’s house feeling so many things. Relieved that I’m not taking a fish tank home and that I didn’t get myself shitcanned. Reluctant to go out, but I promised Lyric and she’s been looking forward to this since she asked. And a little bit curious about what Ridge is like when he’s not all… buttoned up and in dad mode. I don’t know, maybe dad mode doesn’t go away after it’s activated. But surely he steps out of that zone sometimes, right?

I push all those thoughts aside and focus on what’s going on right now, and that includes going home and finding something to wear and maybe taking the lemon for a spin.

TWELVE

RIDGE

My kid’s been gone three hours, and exactly as predicted, I peeled out of my clothes, threw on some basketball shorts, ordered pizza, and cracked open a beer. Then I put on reruns of last season’s baking show and sat my ass on the couch. My goal would be not to move until Sunday afternoon, in just enough time to clean my mess up before Lou gets dropped back off. That’s the good stuff right there.

Though, as the minutes have ticked by and the pizza has disappeared, I’m feeling more restless than usual. Most of the time, I sink into my precious forty hours of alone time without so much as a second thought. This time, though, something definitely feels different.

Of course, I know what the issue is. It’s Darcy. Darcy and her delicious cookies. Okay, that came out wrong. I’d blame it on the beer, but I’ve only had one and a half. Because, you know, I’m a badass.

That woman’s presence has both righted my life and spun it out of control. She brings order to my home and chaos to my heart. Oh my god, what am I even saying? I suppose it was only a matter of time before a woman came along and woke somethingup in me. Too bad no matter how attracted I am to her, I absolutely cannot go for it. Doesn’t mean a man can’t wish he could.

But I can promise you that if I was a younger man—maybe before Lou—and if she wasn’t my employee—maybe if she wasn’t the glue holding my life together right now—I would definitely be shooting my shot.

She mentioned an ex from more than a year ago, and I was immediately curious about what he’s like. I wanted to ask more than a few questions, starting with why they broke up. But I couldn’t tell if she’d have felt comfortable with that.

I check my watch. Eleven on a Friday night and I’m sitting here in ratty shorts, what appear to be two different socks, and I can literally feel my hair standing up on its own like a whacky inflatable tube man or whatever they call that thing. That’s pretty pathetic, right?

Maybe I should get back out there. In the dating pool, I mean. You know, back on the saddle. Though I never understood how dating and horse riding were comparable. Whatever. It doesn’t matter what you want to call it; it’s probably what I should do.

Waylon mentioned a dating app called Buzz once, so I pull up my app store and hit download before I can give it a second thought. I hit “Create Account” and start filling in my basic information. They all start the same. Name, age, what you’re looking for. Instead of writing “I wish I fucking knew” in the last box, I opt for “Anything is possible” to make me seem a little less pathetic.

I’m on the second page of creating a profile when my phone buzzes, and a text pops up at the top of my screen. It’s from Darcy. What the hell is she doing texting me this late? I exit the screen and pull up her message.

DARCY

Help?

A jolt of panic rattles in my chest. I’m suddenly thrust into protective mode and flying back to my room to get dressed as I text her back.

Address?

I don’t think to ask what’s wrong. It doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t alter my course. She asked for help and I’m going to help.

My phone buzzes and I read off the address of a bar. It’s not too far away, maybe a six-minute drive, which gives me a small sense of relief. It would have driven me crazy if she were all the way on the other side of town and it was going to take me half an hour to reach her.

A highlight reel of the scenarios I could be walking into flood me. Is she hurt? Is she abandoned? Is there a guy messing with her? I’m pulling on my shoe as I lock my front door and then jog to my truck.

Hopefully the neighbors don’t complain about how fast I peel out of my driveway. Not that I give a shit. I rake my fingers through my hair, doing my best to not look totally unkempt.

The seconds tick by, and I curse every red light to hell and back. I whip my car into the parking lot of the midsized bar called Taps. It’s a popular choice for locals, as it’s just far enough off the main strip that the tourists haven’t overtaken it.

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