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“Lexi-ville?”
“Yes.” I went on to describe the town and roadways that CJ had helped Lexi create and how much fun they had. She’d vroomed and giggled right until CJ left. She’d been half-asleep by the time dinner was over and had gone to bed with no issues. It would’ve been a great night to get some work done, but instead, I’d sat in the chair next to her bed, staring into space, wondering what in the hell I’d done.
Once I fell silent, George cleared his throat, then tipped back in his chair with a shit-eating grin. “Sounds like you should’ve told him no on the job and then asked for his number. He sounds like the exact type of man you should be dating.”
I shook my head frantically from side-to-side. “I can’t date him now. He works for me. That’s like, unethical or something.”
He snorted. “So what’s next?”
Wasn’t that the million-dollar question.
George knocked his fist against the desk. “Well, if you’re determined not to go for him, and you’re going to let Lexi have him as her new bestie, when your mom comes back, you can always convert your office into a room for him. I mean, between the two of them, you won’t really need it. You can come to the office during the day, get your stuff done, and head on home.”
I didn’t want to admit that I’d already considered that since it seemed a little overkill. How many adults should it take to watch one little girl? George coughed into his hand. “Or move your desk into the living room.”
I reared back. “That’s Lexi’s playroom.”
George smiled at me fondly, but something lurked behind his eyes that I didn’t quite understand. “I know it is, buddy.” He shook his head. “Maybe don’t worry about it for now. You have plenty of time before your mom comes home. You never know where things will be by then.”
I groaned. Don’t worry about it? Had he met me? “You’re right. I’ll just go with the flow,” I said, forcing a smile.
Based on his bark of laughter, he didn’t believe I could do that anymore than I did.
* * *
I was home by lunchtime with four pictures saved in my phone that CJ had sent me from their morning. Lexi had been excited to see me until he’d placed a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich cut into triangles, skinless apple wedges, and carrots with a pink dipping sauce on the table in front of her. Instead of asking out loud, I texted him and asked about the pink stuff on her plate, and he’d sent back that it was ranch dressing with pink food coloring and a winky-face emoji.
I hated to admit how many times I’d checked that message or how my stomach swooped each time I did.
Since they’d been doing fine, I’d gone up to my office to work for the rest of the afternoon. I still wasn’t sure how coexisting with him would be. I’d never been the most boisterous person, so I suspected I wouldn’t even have to worry about him still living here by the time my mom came back. My awkwardness would probably run him off well before then.
At around four-thirty, the smell of garlic and herbs wafted into my office. I’d gotten so much work done and was still well ahead of schedule, so I followed my nose down to the kitchen. My stomach growled at the aroma permeating the whole downstairs.
“Hi, Daddy,” Lexi said as I entered the room. She wore an apron and chef hat that I couldn’t remember seeing before, and she waved a child-sized wooden spoon over her head.
“Hey, Lex-Lex. What are you doing?” I walked over to peek into the bowl in front of her on the counter. It was filled with an oily liquid and herbs.
“Your daughter is making the dip for the Italian bread,” CJ said as he pulled a pan out of the oven.
“What are we having?”
“Baked ziti, bread, and a salad. Your little miss saw a family eating it on one of the cartoons we watched after nap time, and she said it was her favorite. I checked to see if you had all the ingredients, and since you did, we got to work.”
“Yeah, Daddy. I help CJ. I’m his soup chef.”
CJ and I smiled at each other over the top of her head. Then he winked, and my stomach fluttered. Goodness. The guy was being friendly, doing nothing more than sharing a cute moment with me regarding my kid, and I wanted to melt into a puddle of goo. I was ridiculous.
Trying to find my footing, I said, “CJ, I meant it when I said I didn’t expect you to cook.”
He shrugged, smiling. “I enjoy it.” He frowned suddenly. “I don’t want to overstep, though. If it’s something you like to do, then I’ll stick to only making the meals when you’re not available.”
Rolling my lips in, I scrunched my nose. “Can I be completely honest with you?”
“Of course.”
“I hate cooking. My food is passable at best.”
A line formed between his eyebrows. “But you have the stepstool for Lexi and all those fresh ingredients. I assumed you spent a lot of time in the kitchen.”
