Page 14 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

Thatcher’s face lights up as he scoops the little boy into his arms. “It’s okay. I know from experience that this little guy’s faster than he looks.”

“Daddy! You didn’t tell me you were coming here! Did you get me a cookie?” Duke’s voice is filled with excitement, and the bond between them is so unexpectedly warm and loving that it’s momentarily heart-stopping.

“I was just going to order one, buddy,” Thatcher says, ruffling his son’s hair. “How about I get two? One for you and one for?—”

“Your friend?” Duke says, his eyes turning to look at me curiously.

I gulp, my mind racing as I piece together the scene in front of me. How much does his son and wife know about his business? His NDA is tight, but it’s supposed to protect my anonymity as well.

Up until now, I never could have imagined Thatcherbeing a family man. But watching him bouncing the little boy on his knee is so natural that it robs me of my breath. And when I look up to catch his wife’s adoring smile, I feel a twinge of…jealousy? No, that can’t be right. We’re working together, nothing more. He’s a job. A means to an end. A way for me to get my dream career off the ground.

Even if we did have a small moment right before they came in.

“Uhm, hi there,” I say awkwardly, waving at Duke. I force a smile, hoping my sudden internal crisis isn’t written all over my face.

“Hi! I’m Duke!” he says, peering at me curiously, those vibrant eyes so much like his father’s. “Are you one of Daddy’s friends?”

“Something like that,” I reply, still reeling from the interruption. I glance at the woman who also smiles widely and takes my hand.

“I’m Missy! It’s so nice to meet one of Thatcher’s friends, finally!”

I blink, not sure what the hell is going on. Does Thatcher not have any friends? How can he hide an entire thriving business from his wife?

Thatcher pulls some cash out of his wallet and hands it to Missy. “Could you grab three cookies?”

She smiles, taking the money, then giving me a polite nod, she heads to the counter to order from Greg.

“Are you going to play with us?” Duke’s question snaps me back to the present. He’s looking at me with such genuine curiosity that my heart melts a little.

“Uh, well, Duke, your dad and I were?—”

“Working,” Thatcher interjects smoothly. “Miss Allie is helping me with some very important work.”

“Like spies?” Duke’s eyes widen with the possibility.

“Exactly like spies,” Thatcher confirms with a wink.

“Wow...” Duke seems impressed, and I can’t help but laugh.

Biscuit barks at my feet and Duke’s eyes impossibly go even wider. “And you have a dog? Can I pet him?”

He wriggles out of his dad’s hold and sinks to his knees on the floor in front of Biscuit. “Of course,” I say. “His name is Biscuit and he loves cookies, too. Just not ones with chocolate.”

“But chocolate chip cookies are the best!” Duke exclaims.

Thatcher reaches down and ruffles Duke’s dark, curly hair. “Chocolate is bad for a dog’s tummy, though.”

Duke juts his bottom lip out, pouting. “That’s so sad he can never have chocolate.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” I say. “He prefers cheese, anyway.”

At the counter, I catch as Missy leans over the glass display case, pointing at the cookies. She’s stunning. Thatcher’s whole family is stunning. Like models you’d find in a catalogue.

“You know,” I say, clearing my throat. “I should probably be going. You’ll send me those, um, questionnaires to do tonight?”

“Are you sure?” Thatcher asks. “They’ll be going home soon?—”

I stand up and wave my hand at him. “No, no, it’s fine. Enjoy your afternoon with your family.” Again, my eyes glance over his shoulder to find Missy making her way back over to us with three cookies on a plate.

---