Page 46 of Single Dad Dilemma
Here we go. Here’s where grumpy Barrett would come back out. He’d say something about marking your body permanently and how unwise it was, how it sent a bad message to his kids or something. My loins weregirdedbefore he even opened his mouth, defensiveness making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Just wondering what it is,” he said, giving me a brief look. “You’ve got a few of them.”
Oh.The neck hair settled as his simple answer deflated the response cocked and ready to go. Even that made me feel prickly, the unexpected reactions.
“I have more that you can’t see.” His hands stilled as he closed the box, and he didn’t lift his gaze to mine, but the air thickened all the same. Briefly, I touched the simple outline of a car on my skin next to the bend of my elbow. “They each have a story,” I told him. “But I don’t usually share them.”
Barrett straightened, his handsome face inscrutable.
“Then why get them if you don’t want people to understand?”
His eyes weren’t a simple dark brown at all. They were gold and hazel and a touch of green, and I never would’ve known that unless I got close enough to see.
So I stepped back. Added space. Provided distance where it was badly needed.
“Because I didn’t get them for anyone else,” I told him. “They’re just for me.”
Barrett hummed in response, the low pitch to his voice raising the hair on my arms this time. Not a defensive reaction at all. It was awareness, tugging at a neglected part of my brain, and the pleasant reverberations of that awareness had me breathing a little unsteadily.
If he noticed, he didn’t show it. There was nothing to be gleaned from his facial expressions.
What a pair we were, because I imagined my face held a similar look. Like two Sphinxes staring each other down.
What secrets were held behind his walls? I knew what was guarded behind mine. Which was why, in typical Lily fashion, I desperately searched for a change in subject.
“Do you have fifteen-minute gift-buying breaks during your day too?” I asked, picking up my bag from where I’d set it on the floor. “That’s an impressive pile for a single dad who works a million hours a week.”
He paused, holding my gaze for a moment before answering. “No. I have a very thorough executive assistant who knows my children well, and shops for me because she knows I don’t have time.”
“Ah yes, Bridget.” I smiled. “We’ve texted.”
“I heard.”
The grump made his first appearance with that growly, annoyed response, and my smile spread.
“And she puts up with you full-time? You must pay her a lot.”
“I do,” he answered. “Though she’d argue I can always do more, especially on the days I drive her crazy.”
“Daily, then?” I asked sweetly.
“Dad, come on,” Maggie begged. “You can pick up later. You said we have to be in bed in thirty minutes, and if we get something really cool, I’m going to want to play with it.”
Barrett nodded toward my empty glass of ice water. “Sorry, I’m not a very good host. I don’t have any wine or beer to offer.”
I shrugged. “I don’t drink, so water is fine with me.”
He paused, giving me a thoughtful look. “I don’t either.”
We walked into the family room, his shoulder brushing mine before he stopped, allowing me to choose a seat first.
Nothing about this man was what I thought it would be. He chose a seat a respectable distance from mine, a full couch cushion open between us. There was no manspreading into my space, and I tucked my legs underneath me while I studied him.
Before Scrabble, he’d changed from the button-down into a well-loved black sweatshirt with a yellowOon it. He caught me staring while the kids poked and prodded at the gifts. “What?”
“Nothing,” I said, blinking away. “Just wondering what theOstands for.”
“Oregon,” he answered. “My brother and I played college ball there.”
