Page 5 of Big Bad Single Wolf Dad

“And what about a last name?” I ask, then shove a hand in my pocket. Kids make a woman stable, and I like stable women.

“I’ve got that, too.” She grins. “Chapman.”

“Deville.” I point to myself as I say my own last name. “Now that we’re best friends, is that a yes?”

I catch her off guard for some reason. At least that’s what I gather from her slack jaw. Either that or she’s just as frazzled as I am.

“Great party,” I hear someone say.

I turn to see Eric Brisbin standing at attention next to Sarah. How long had the pale vamp been there?

“An even greater date planner.” I take the opportunity to use his words to my advantage. “Not the best beggar, though.” I hope I sound funny and not confused. Why is she doing this to me? Kids are nothing. Is that what she’s worried about?

Tell her about your kids, ass, my inner voice screams. I smile inside. Of course, level the playing field.

“I can tell you about my own three kids once you get there,” I add, pointing to Sarah, then around the room. “If you like this, you’re going to love the place I have in mind.”

She smiles and cuts Eric off.

“You’ve sold me,” she replies. “Any hints on where?”

“Nope,” I say, mostly because I have no idea where we’ll go. The decorations for this place took weeks to plan. “You might change your mind and go there without me.”

She smiles as someone grabs my shoulder. Suddenly, I’m hit with a barrage of questions regarding cancer research from a trio of bubbly guests. Each woman is equally giddy for my attention, and by the time I turn around, Sarah is gone.

Sarah Chapman, I correct myself, knowing the guest list will have more information.

* * *

“Come on, Mike, don’t tell me these are all the backup lights you got?” I’m looking at a half-dozen sets of fairy lights, all of which Mike managed to drop into the koi pond on his way to my private gardens.

It’s a collection of exotic plants, trees, and bushes surrounding a hand-crafted gazebo made entirely of refurbished wood. Cozy and spacious inside, the place is perfect for a relaxing dinner party for two. Boho yet Roman, it’s deceptively low-key, something I think Sarah might be. At least from what I learned of her the other night.

“I have more,” Mike replies, nodding his head furiously at me as he approaches the gazebo.

“Are they still in your car? Let me grab them.” I dare the koi pond to try and take me down.

“Whatever’s clever, boss. I’ll just –” Mike’s words cut off as my assistant nearly trips over his own foot.

Why does the zombie insist on talking and walking at the same time? I raise my hand to warn him as he tumbles up the steps and into the table of plates. As inconvenient as it is for Mike to be clumsy at this moment, I can’t help but remember what Lily-bear likes to say of the vertically challenged zombie.

Gravity just doesn’t like him, Dad. I can’t prove it yet, but I feel it.

“You’re right, Mike,” I begin, stifling a smile as I rush to help the poor guy up.

I want to impress Sarah, sure, but Mike sort of comes with the package. Maybe I should have asked her how she felt about cloddish zombies when I had the chance.

“A dinner table of dishes is for squares,” I continue. “Nobody eats like that anymore. Plop a coffee table by the furniture, and we’ll just suffer through serving ourselves a la carte.”

“None of them broke!” Mike says, flinching as I clap him on the back maybe a little too hard. “I’m getting better. Last time was a nightmare.”

I don’t have time to recall the details of Mike’s previous collision with the gazebo floor, though it too started with a table and plates.

“Exit is this way, bud,” I say instead. “We need to get those bangs of yours cut while you still have eyes to protect.”

I turn him around and lead him back down the gazebo.

“Fair enough.” Mike’s a pro at shaking off his shock.

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