Her Dad’s Best Friend

Chapter 90

"What did you want to eat for lunch?" I ask. "I don't actually come here for lunch that often..."

"There's a hotel restaurant that serves really good food. I think that it's family friendly." Jeff readjusts

Danny in his arms. "It's close enough to walk to."

The three of us take the elevator down and walk two blocks away. I'm holding an empty baby carrier

and Danny is swiveling around, trying to take in all the sights. His wispy hair is getting a tiny

bit windblown. Jeff's grown-up version of that same hair is getting tousled. He looks like a model next to Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

a wind machine. It's unfair. If I hadn't wrestled my hair into braids, my hair would be a wind-tossed

frizzy cloud of sadness. I'm not the kind of girl who has to tease her hair for volume, I can tell you that

much.

When we get to the hotel, he slips $20 to the hostess and asks for a table that's somewhat private. We

don't mention Danny's colic.

She brings us to a table near the back. I can hear the bustle of the kitchen. We slide into the seats. I

put the baby carrier under the table and hope there's nothing sticky under there.

"Your server will be right with you," the hostess says. "Enjoy your meal."

She walks back to the front. I'm covertly looking under the table for any signs of gum. "When do you

need to be back at the office?"

"Two hours. I have a meeting at 2."

"Good," I say. Before I can say anything more, his mouth is brushing mine. And then he's kissing me

harder, pushing his tongue inside of my mouth. We're both breathless by the time that he's done.

"I couldn't do that in front of Marjorie," he murmurs. Danny is distracted, looking at all the other diners. I

don't think he's even noticed what his father is doing, since he has his back to us. Jeff has a hand on

Danny's squishy tummy.

"We're in public," I try to say, but it comes out as a moan. I've soaked my panties. It kind of feels like I

held them under a waterfall.

"I couldn't wait," he said. "And I'm not trying to hide whatever it is we're doing."

I think about it. My dad is out of the country, and he's really the only person who would fervently object.

"I guess so," I say. "But I don't know what we're doing."

"We're dating," he says, tugging lightly on one braid. At least he doesn't chew the ends like Danny

does.

He says it like we've discussed it, like it's a done deal and of course we're dating. I suppose he did take

my virginity, which means something, right?

"I don't know."

He raises his eyebrows. "Do you think we aren't?"

I lift one shoulder. "I guess we are."

"I know we are." He sounds very sure. "I haven't dated anybody seriously since she died," he

continues.

I nod. I know it's true. I've seen women stumbling out of his house in the morning, but never more than

once.

"And when it's right, it's right. You're the one."

I'm kind of freaking out. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're not a one-night stand," he says.

"I hope not," I say. "Considering what we've done..."

"Yeah," he says. "And you're living in my house." He sounds really smug, a little too smug. I twist my

hands in my lap and decide to change the subject.

"What do you want to get?"

"I always get a chicken BLT when I'm here. They melt Gruyere, Parmesan, and Romano cheese

together on top and it's divine."

"Sounds good. I'll get that too. I'll take your word for it." I frown at the menu. "But I'll ask for a side of

mashed potatoes instead of fries. Boiled potatoes have a lower glycemic index than fried potatoes."

"It's lunch," Jeff says. "And I don't think you have diabetes."

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