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“Bacon ranch. And the pulled pork is the Texas type with barbeque sauce, instead of the vinegar type, which is more Carolina. Shh, don’t tell anyone, though. They’d revoke my state card.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t. Especially since you had me stop all cognitive thinking at the words bacon and ranch.”
I grinned, thinking he was funnier than I’d given him credit for. “Good.”
We chatted throughout the meal without any awkwardness. Mark complimented my food, and Tristan ate most of what we did.
“He’s a pretty good eater.”
I wiped my son's hands and face and then let him down to play with the Legos for a few more minutes before his bath. “Most of the time. I try to give him a simple version of dinners, but during the week we tend to eat a lot of breakfast foods for all meals. Especially when I’d come home after work. Guess you could say we both like pancakes and yogurt. Save room for apple pie, by the way.”
Mark patted his flat stomach, which had me wondering what was beneath the Yale sweatshirt he was sporting. The distraction had me completely miss his words.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“I wondered if you’d had a chance to explore the city or get out and about Connecticut?”
I shook my head. “No, but tomorrow I figure we’d make the hour drive to Mystic. I heard there’s an aquarium there. And, of course, there’s the pizza it’s known for.”
He helped clear the dishes. “Just the two of you?”
“Yeah. Why? You don’t think it’s safe?”
“It’s perfectly safe. It’s a nice drive, too.”
I dished up the pie à la mode and coerced Tristan back into his high chair for apples and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
“This is amazing.” Mark’s expression of pure bliss made me jealous of the fork between his lips.
“Thanks. If ever I wonder why I can’t lose those last ten pounds, I can remind myself of this. I love dessert.”
I glanced up from my dish to see him frown.
At the same moment, Tristan splatted his chubby hand full of vanilla ice cream directly into his own hair. It was hard not to laugh at the shocked look on his face when the cold hit him.
“Buddy. It goes in your mouth, not on your head. Come on, let’s get you in a warm bath and washed up.” I lifted him up out of his chair and put him on my hip. Glancing toward Mark, I made sure he didn’t think I was dismissing him. “Um, please don’t feel like you have to rush. I just need to get him cleaned up.”
“Okay. No problem.”
Déjà vu when I brought out a now-clean Tristan from the bath and saw Mark in my kitchen doing the dishes.
If I thought my attraction toward him might only be physical, he went and upped the ante by grinning at Tristan. “Are you an airplane?”
My son looked down at his PJs and a laugh bubbled up from inside him once he noticed what I’d dressed him in. All planes.
“Do you mind?” Mark held out his arms.
I shook my head. Then I watched as Mark scooped him up and had him flying through the living room, telling him to stretch out his arms like the real thing.
He stopped after two laps around the living room and put Tristan on the couch beside him. “So, about tomorrow and Mystic. If you want the company and a tour guide, I could come with?”
Huh. “Sure. If you don’t have any other plans.”
“I seldom do on the weekends, unless I’m traveling. What time did you want to leave?”
“Nine o’clock too early?”
“Nope. I’ll see you then.” He handed over my smiling son. “Good night, Tristan. Good night, Juliette.”
