Page 147 of Scouting the Single Dad

“Yeah, it is.” He smiles proudly. “But it’s the first idea that doesn’t feel like punishment.”

“Hold up,” I say, palms sliding up his thigh to anchor. “You don’t have to buy property because you want to date me.” That’s bananas.

“You’re right, I don’t have to,” he agrees. “I want to. A cabin’s not a grand gesture—it’s a plan. Women love a plan, don’t they? And if things don’t work out, I’ll sell it.” He pulls me closer. “Babe, I can afford it. Do you know how much fucking money I have?”

No, I do not. I haven’t given money a single thought.

His words hit me sideways, almost ridiculous in their certainty.

How Much Money Does This Man Have?

“I’m not throwing away money, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says calmly. “I’m investing in us. And it gives Benny both—time with me, time in a town that doesn’t revolve around shopping and social status, that’s hot as fuck in the summer. A cabin where she can run around barefoot and jump in a lake and live in her swimsuit sounds like a fantastic childhood.”

I stare at him, heart pounding. “You really have thought this through.”

He laughs. “I had a lot to think about while I was waiting for you to show up. Babe, I can afford to make this possible. What I can’t afford is losing you because we were too scared to dream big.”

I search his face. “This sounds too good to be true,” I whisper.

“Trust me—it’s not. I’m selfish.” His eyes spark. “I want the life, the girl, the whole damn thing.”

A tidal wave of want washes over me; or is this gratitude? Relief?

“I want a life like that, too, but isn’t this a little too . . .”

Quick?

Crazy?

I mean, we haven’t even spent more than a few days together.

Talking about living together is wild. It’s something people do when they’re wildly in love . . .

“Layla. I’m as confused as you are about all this. If we say it out loud, it sounds so fucked up, doesn’t it?” He laughs. “Like—what are we going to tell our parents? ‘Hey, Mom, after not dating for nine years, I met someone and Surprise, she’s moving in’?”

I choke on a startled giggle. “My mother would freak.”

Will freak.

Because I want this.

“But here’s what’s even more insane: From the second you walked into my life, every part of me went, ‘Yes. Her.’ I don’t know if that’s a thing people admit without sounding deranged, but maybe love at first sight isn’t the dumbest myth I’ve ever heard even if I said I didn’t believe it.”

I bite down on my bottom lip to stop the ridiculous grin spreading across my face—Pinch Me, I’m Dreaming!

“Hold up. I’m about to say something crazier.”

“What?” I wait with bated breath.

“I’m bringing you home to meet my mom.”

He’s not saying he loves me, but the word still flares like a match in my chest. I’m on him before I can second-guess, fisting his shirt and dragging his mouth to mine like I’ll starve if I don’t taste him.

Hayes groans. “Fuck yeah—this is what I’m talkin’ about.”

He’s grinning against my lips when I swing a leg over and settle into his lap, knees bracketing his hips. His rough hands find my waist, slide up my ribs—claiming, careful, hungry.

Then he moves.