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He whispered something in her ear and she giggled. I guessed it was a bribery for a soda since he motioned to Abby to come over.
“One hour and he’s already the favorite,” Perrie said dryly, meeting my eyes.
“He has that effect on some people.” I shrugged my shoulder.
“And you weren’t one of them,” Damien shot at me.
I shared a smile with Perrie.
Then, she hugged me.
Tightly.
“Thank you,” she whispered into my ear, squeezing me.
I swallowed hard, blinking back emotion. “It’s my pleasure.”
And that was no lie.
Perrie released me with an emotional smile.
The little girl on the bar groaned. “Oh no, Mommy. Is it your special time again? Do I get extra candy?”
Perrie coughed. “No, Lo, it’s not. I’m happy. Why don’t you say hi to Dahlia?”
She narrowed her little, brown eyes. “Do I gots to?”
“Do I have to,” she was gently corrected. “And no, you don’t have to, but I’d like you to, Lola. First, it’s polite, and second, your Uncle Damien likes her very much.”
Lola turned her attention from her mom to me. She examined my face for a moment before saying, “Are you going to be my aunt?”
“You bet,” Damien said before anybody else could respond.
Abby almost dropped the glass of lemonade in her hand.
Perrie froze and then laughed.
I choked on my own damn spit.
“Okay. Uncle Damien, where’s fizzpop?” Lola turned around, apparently unperturbed by his declaration.
“Right here, princess.” He handed her the short glass with a half-cut straw in it—and a fucking strawberry sitting on the rim.
I peered around her and gave Abby a single raised eyebrow in question.
“She’s cute,” she mouthed, shrugging.
It was hard to argue with such truth. Lola was for sure the cutest-looking kid I’d ever seen. I didn’t let just any kid sit on my bar, after all.
“Mommy,” Lola said, “I need to pe—the bathroom.”
Perrie lifted her down. “Where are they?” she asked me.
I pointed to the ‘Staff’ door. “Take her in there. You’ll find it to the right, right before the staff room.”
“Thank you,” she said, her words weightier than just a simple thank you.
“Perrie,” Abby said, darting across the bar. “Will you give me a couple minutes after? I’ll wait in the staff room for you.”
Her hands were resting on her bouncing daughter’s shoulders, but her lips parted, and she paused. “I—sure.”
I watched as she guided Lola to the back room and then met Abby’s eyes.
She winked, following them back.
“What was that about?” Damien asked.
I turned. He was leaning against the bar, one arm on it, looking exactly like he belonged there. His signature black shirt clung to his body in the way I loved so much, but it was his lips that got me. Turned up to one side, the spark in his smirk matched the ones in his sinfully dark eyes.
“She’s got a trial,” I said, walking toward him. I stopped, smoothing out his collar. “Abby thinks she has a ton of potential. I think, with her experience, she could make a great experience for the new bar I intend to buy.”
He snaked his arm around my waist. “You don’t need to buy it.”
“I do, and I want to. Don’t tell me no. Historically, it hasn’t worked out well for you.”
He laughed, burying his face in my neck. “Damn it, Dahlia Lloyd. All right…Make your offer. I’ll instruct it’s accepted no matter what.”
“Excellent. Fifty bucks it is.”
“I’d accept that.”
“I know,” I said, amused when he pulled back. I ran my finger down the side of his face, over the scar he once winced about when I touched, and across the rough stubble that coated his jaw. “It’ll be market value, don’t worry.”
“I’m not. Although I do find it highly amusing that you’re buying a property that will, eventually, be mine again one day.”
“Is that so, Mr. Fox?”
“Almost certainly, Ms. Lloyd.” His lips were warm against mine.
“Your comment to Lola just then,” I whispered. “Flippant or not?”
His lips pulled to one side, his eyes warm and raw. “Have I ever been flippant regarding my intentions with you, sweetheart?”
I couldn’t fight my smile. God. Even when he was being the presumptuous man I’d once despised, I could only love him.
“I’m holding you to that.”
“You do that. I’m entirely certain you’ll marry me.”
“Like you were certain you’d buy my bar?”
His laugh was wild and real. “No. Not like that.” Still shaking from his amusement, he wrapped his hand around the back of my head. “Like I was certain you’d own me entirely when this was all said and done.”
“And do I? Own you entirely?”
“Dahlia.” Lips on mine. Fingers in my skin. Heart thumping against my chest. “You own me. Entirely. Always.”
I smiled into his kiss.
That was a promise I could believe in.
I believed in love stories. In the predictable and the obvious. In the unrealistic and the unpredictable. I loved them. I lived them. They were my passion and my escape.
