Page 14 of Tempting the Single Dad
"I like her, Dad," she says simply.
"Me too, baby," I reply, squeezing her hand. "Me too."
Chapter 5 – Miranda
The clinic hums with gentle efficiency around me as I finish updating charts. Morning sunshine streams through the Victorian windows, painting golden rectangles on the polished hardwood floor.
"Dr. Allen?" Maggie appears in the doorway, her pumpkin-themed scrubs making me smile. "Your ten-thirty cancelled. Something about their car not starting. Which means you're free until your one o'clock."
"Great," I say, stretching my arms above my head. "I could use the catch-up time."
"Mmm-hmm." Her knowing smile makes heat creep up my neck. "Catch up on charting? Or catch up on daydreaming about a certain pumpkin farmer?"
I feel my cheeks flush. News travels at light speed in Whitetail Falls. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Honey, half the town saw you two at the festival last night."
Three days. That's all it's been since I first set foot on Silverbrook Farm, since Diana fell from that pumpkin display, since David looked at me with those amber eyes that seem to see straight through me. Three days, and somehow they've both worked their way into my heart.
"Now, why don't you take your paperwork to the back garden?" Maggie suggests. "It's too beautiful to be cooped up inside."
The garden welcomes me with crisp air carrying the scent of chrysanthemums and the rustle of fiery leaves overhead. I settle on the wooden bench beneath an ancient oak tree, tablet in hand.
My mind should be on work, but it keeps drifting back to last night—the hayride under stars, Diana pointing out constellations, David's hand finding mine beneath the blanket.
And that kiss in the parking lot. Not the heated, desperate kisses we shared in the barn, but something deeper. Gentler. A promise rather than a demand.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
My eyes fly open at the sound of David's deep voice. He stands at the garden gate, backlit by midday sun, a brown paper bag in one hand and what looks like a thermos in the other. His hair is slightly tousled, and he's wearing a blue flannel shirt that makes his eyes look like sunlight through honey.
"David," I say, my voice embarrassingly breathless. "What are you doing here?"
He smiles, closing the gate behind him and crossing to my bench. "I had to pick up feed at the co-op, and I thought..." He holds up the bag. "Lunch? Unless you're busy."
"Not busy," I assure him quickly. Too quickly. I make a show of gathering my papers. "My ten-thirty cancelled."
"Lucky me," he says, settling beside me. The worn denim of his jeans brushes against my scrub pants, and even that slight contact sends awareness skittering across my skin. "I hope you like turkey and avocado. The Copper Kettle makes the best sandwiches in town."
He unscrews the thermos, pouring steaming apple cider into the cap. "Diana insisted I bring this too. She helped make it this morning."
I accept the cup, letting the warmth seep into my palms.
"How is she today?" I ask, breathing in the cinnamon-spiced steam.
"Talkative," he says with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "More than I've heard in months."
I nod, taking a sip of the cider. It's perfect, sweet and spicy, with a hint of orange. "That’s wonderful."
"We'll see you tonight," he reminds me, unwrapping his own sandwich. "Diana's already planning the menu. Spaghetti, garlic bread, and—" he adopts a dramatic voice "—her world-famous fruit salad, which is basically just apples and grapes cut into pieces."
I laugh, feeling the last of my workday tension melt away. "Sounds like a feast."
We eat in comfortable silence for a moment, the sun warm on our faces despite the cold air. A squirrel darts across the garden, pausing to chatter indignantly before disappearing up the oak.
"So," David says finally, his voice casual in a way that immediately alerts me that what follows won't be casual at all. "I've been thinking about us. About what's happening between us."
My stomach tightens. "That sounds ominous."
