Page 12 of Soren the Single Dad
I’m supposed to be growing, not limiting myself. Romanticizing my life means hoping for the best, not escaping the potential of rejection before it can hurt me.
Allowing my head to bang against the front door, I grimace, then give in.
Becoming your best self can really suck sometimes.
“You… are… a dream come true, Soren. From the ridiculous conversation about celebrities to the way you care for Sara Beth. I’ve never met someone I’ve felt such an immediate connection to, and it got to be a little too much in the truck.”
I don’t think he expected that level of honesty because his body jerks, then tenses.Oh god… He’s about to race back down this mountain to escape the crazy lady who confessed her—
“I feel the same way.”
Wait, what?
“Do you know how much control it takes to not kiss you or grab your hand or toss you over my shoulder and take you home?” He dips his head to whisper his lips across mine. “A whole fucking ton. You’re the first woman since Sara Beth’s mom that I’ve wanted to pursue a serious relationship with, and what I felt for Marsha doesn’t even come close to how I feel for you. But I want to do this right. We started fast; I don’t want to burn out.”
“Me neither.”
“So, we do this the traditional way. We date and enjoy being together and I leave you with a kiss goodnight rather than tasting that sweet pussy of yours again,” he growls, plunging his tongue into my mouth in a crude example of what he’d like to be doing instead.
My hands smooth up his chest to tangle in his hair, my fingernails digging into his scalp as we both groan in pleasure.
Slow.
I can work with that.
CHAPTER TEN
SOREN
“Heard you had a date. Who's the lucky woman?” Beckett asks after our family's weekly Sunday dinner together.
“Who spilled the beans? Sara Beth?” She's been peppering me with questions about last night ever since Kennedy dropped her off at home this morning.
“A buddy of mine saw you at Hatchet Crazy.” Beckett drops onto the worn leather sofa in the living room and flips the TV on to a baseball game. He lowers the volume from the blasting eardrum level Gramps likes to keep it at, and we share a wry look.
We don't know how Griffen handles the noise. Our younger brother prefers peace and quiet. Something you'd think he'd get as our grandpa's live-in caretaker, but nope, Gramps is a social butterfly—always heading to the senior center and needing the TV and radio turned up to the highest settings.
Beckett’s expression morphs into confusion a second later. “Wait, Sara Beth knows about her? It must be serious if you've already shared the dating news.”
“Diana is the new vet tech at Dr. Winston’s. When we brought Whiskers in for an injury he was faking, Sara Beth met her. It didn't seem worth hiding after that.”
“Faking an injury?” I nod, and Beckett laughs before imitating Elmer Fudd. “That pesky wabbit!”
“Still watching cartoons?” Ezra, Beckett's more put-together twin, teases as he enters the room with his girl, Lauren, behind him and heads for a chair.
“As a matter of fact, yes, I am.” Beckett proudly puffs his chest. “They're slower-paced and less visually stimulating, so they're relaxing to watch. Plus, there's the whole nostalgia aspect.”
“He's got a point,” Lauren agrees from her spot on Ezra's lap in the recliner. “I've read some articles discussing the potential benefits of older cartoons.”
“For kids,” Ezra jokes, pressing a kiss behind her ear.
Beckett rolls his eyes at his twin. “My TV watching habits aren't up for discussion. Soren's date on the other hand…”
I groan as they focus on me. At least the rest of the family is hanging out in the kitchen while finishing dessert, so I’ve only got three people to distract from this conversation before everyone dives into my personal life.
“You should invite her to the All Schools Day parade, so we can meet her.”
“Bombard her with you hooligans? I don't think so.”
