Page 9 of Pucked Up Plans
“I didn’t let Keeley forget them.” She radiates with pride at her great memory, her crystal blue eyes dancing with delight.
“That was so sweet of you. You’ll have to thank your dad for us.”
“You can thank him yo’self. He’s coming now.” She motions over her shoulder, and damn. With a matching smile to his daughter plastered on his lips, my heart skips a beat as he struts over. While maybe not arrogant in the full sense of the word, the way he carries himself is a turn-on. And something I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about.
I’m so lost in staring at him—I hope I’m not drooling—I don’t realize he’s spoken.
Shaking out of my stupor, I stutter, “Wh-what?” The heat in my cheeks certainly gives away how I’m feeling.
“Just wanted to make sure you got the marshmallows. We don’t need any extra bags at our house.”
“I have it on good authority Aubrey has them in her backpack.” To confirm but also needing a breather from theheat of the Adonis’ gaze currently aimed my way, I appraise my daughter. The girl appears as entranced as I feel.
Aubrey steps closer to me, shying away from Walsh. “Thank you,” she says in a whisper, her introverted nature still polite.
“You’re welcome. Be sure to let us know how you like them. Mommy can text me. I left my number on the bag.”
What?my brain fires at me, the ability to even begin to comprehend what his comment implies getting lost in translation.
Finding my voice, I stammer, “Um, sure. We will. Thanks.”
“Keeley, can we go to the park? I think the fish need some bread.” Lennon’s little voice breaks the hold her father has over me.
“Did you bring the bread?” he volleys back.
Not missing a beat, she sasses, “Packed it in my bag. You think Mimi will mind I brought the whole loaf?”
His head shakes at her admission. “For you, she’ll probably make an exception. Had I done that as a kid, I’d still be paying her back.”
“It’s cuz she loves me more. She tells me all the time.”
“Right kid. Exactly.” He reaches down and lifts her with one arm, tossing her over his shoulder. The way his biceps flex does not escape me.
Is it wrong I’m so invested in their conversation, in the way they’re so comfortable with each other? Who’s Mimi? How is she related to these two? I should probably excuse myself from this, be on our way, and not waste any more time on strangers. My feet don’t move, and I cannot make them.
“So, yes?” she wonders.
“What’s the outlook for you going to bed with no problems tonight?”
How he keeps his voice neutral is beyond me. I have to turn away so I don’t laugh out loud at his negotiating with a five-year-old. I cross all my fingers and toes Aubrey—who seems as equally zealous about this as I am—doesn’t pick up on any of these habits, cute as they are for his kid.
Lennon cocks her head from side to side, obviously thinking about what she’s going to say. I wait with bated breath. If he didn’t want us to hear their conversation, he would have walked away. It’s not my place to make the first move and excuse ourselves, right?
“Positive.” She punctuates her reply with a nod of her head.
A few beats pass to follow her one-word answer.
The outlook is positive.
I don’t think Aubrey knows the definitions of either outlook or positive. Although in this case, I’m not sure it’s such a bad thing.
Walsh consults his watch. “One hour. No issues when it’s time to go. You go to bed with no complaints.” He ticks off each condition on his fingers.
“Deal. And Aubrey can come too.” Lennon’s attention focuses our way.
Taken aback at her invitation, I’m too stunned to speak.
“Mommy, can we? Please?”
