Page 65 of Pucked Up Plans
“Awesome. Call the office and let them know I’ll be picking her up. I’ll text you when we’re on the way.” I can practically hear the smile in his voice. “What do you want for dinner? Or should we order later and have it delivered?”
“We were going to make pizzas, but we can do that tomorrow night instead. Does the place next to the grocery store deliver or do pickup? Their menu is extensive, but we’ve yet to try it.”
“Homegrown Bistro? I believe so. Once I get there, we can double-check.”
“Cool. See you soon.”
Drive safelingers on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it in. I don’t want him to interpret the message the wrong way.
“Tate?” he asks, a little less pep in his voice.
“Yeah?”
“It’s going to kill me not to kiss you tonight. If it seems like I don’t want to, that’s not the case.”
Though he can’t see, I smile at his words.
“Same goes for me.”
“Good. See you later. Bye.”
He hangs up without waiting for a response.
Walsh’s “on our way” text comes as I’m working on a batch of pretzels. I’m so lost in my head combining ingredients, I jump at the sound of the doorbell.
Rushing to the front door, I throw it back, met with a beautiful sight: my daughter holding a gorgeous bouquet of red and purple flowers. Her smile stretches across her entire face. When she realizes the door is open, it grows bigger. As if that’s possible.
My heart stutters in my chest, kick-started only when I hear her voice. “Mommy, Mr. Walsh pick me up from school. And Lennon gets to stay for a playdate.”
Her enthusiasm spikes my own. It elevates when my gaze locks on Walsh, who stands off to the side behind my daughter. Lennon sits in his arms, her smile not as big as Aubrey’s.
Dragging my eyes from Walsh’s blues, I peer down at my daughter and find my voice. “What a great surprise for the afternoon.” I open the storm door, motioning them all inside.The rain appears to have let up for the moment, so they aren’t soaking wet. “Come in. Let’s get shoes off and have a snack.”
Aubrey’s eyes go wide. “Pretzels?”
“They’ll be ready soon.”
She hands me the blooms as she scurries past through the door, sitting down on the floor to remove her shoes. Walsh and Lennon enter, and he somehow removes her shoes before setting her down. Is there anything this man can’t do?
“Thanks for letting us come over. I’m super excited to play with the American Girl dolls again.” Lennon squints, her eyes gleaming with delight. Two tiny buns are pinned on each side of her head.
“It’s literally all she’s talked about since I picked them up,” Walsh reports.
“Aubrey will be excited to play with them too.” I motion to the flowers in my hand. “Did you pick these out?”
“Nah. That’s all Keeley.” Her little nose scrunches. “They smell funny.”
“Saves me from having to ever buy you any, Squirt.”
My gaze travels from dad to daughter. “Don’t let him get away with that, Lennon. Your dad’s one of the good guys, and one day, you’ll want flowers from your dad.Especiallyfrom your dad.”
She observes me like I’ve said something funny—not comical—but something she doesn’t quite understand. With a shrug of her petite shoulders, she asks, “I go play now?”
“Sure thing.”
“Wash your hands first,” Walsh prompts after her as she disappears toward Aubrey’s room.
Alone with Walsh, I stick my nose in the flowers. “These smell incredible. Thank you.”
