Page 32 of Scouting the Single Dad

Eventually I’m spared more suffering when Mark and another server bring our meal. I notice Layla sneaking peeks at me as she busies herself with cutting her vegetables, the small grin on her mouth revealing a dimple in one of her cheeks.

A dimple? Fuck.

What’s she trying to do, kill me?

I focus on my steak like it’s the most important thing I’ve ever cut into. If I don’t, I’ll end up staring at her again like some kind of idiot.

“Dad, stop glaring at your food. You’ll scare Mark away, and I would like to ask him to refill my kiddie cocktail.”

“I’m not glaring.”

“You totally are,” she argues. “Layla, tell him.”

Layla glances up, cheeks pink, lips twitching like she’s holding back more laughter. “You do look a little intense.”

Benny giggles. “That’s why his teammates call him Mr. Grumpy.”

I freeze. Slowly turn my head toward the daughter who just betrayed one of my most well-kept secrets. “How the hell do you know that nickname?”

Her eyes twinkle over the top of her glass as she takes a dainty sip. “I have my ways.”

Layla presses her napkin to her mouth, shoulders shaking. “Mr. Grumpy?”

Christ.

I’m never going to live this down.

Chapter 7

Layla

“Mr. Grumpy?”

I’ve heard of worse nicknames to call a person, but still swallow my laugh. Hide my grin behind my water glass—again—but it pops out anyway, along with a hiccup. Which would be more embarrassing if he hadn’t already heard my stomach at a full gurgle.

I give up trying to have any dignity in front of this man.

With no need to impress him or flirt with him because There is no Way I Am His Type in any Way, Shape, or Form! I find freedom in being myself and nothing but my full self, so help me God . . .

Next to me, Hayes’s glare is like a thundercloud. Clearly he hates the nickname, though a tame one, or maybe he just hates the idea of his daughter announcing it at a dinner table in mixed company.

Either way, I can totally see it.

Mr. Grumpy, indeed.

It fits.

He wears the broody look well, broad shoulders and sexy scruff and down-turned mouth . . .

Rawr.

Benny pats his forearm as she grins at me. “Don’t worry, he’s a nice grump.”

“I’m not—” he starts to protest but stops, because he is indeed a decent guy when it comes to his daughter. I’ve only known them a short time, and anyone can see she’s the center of his universe—or he wouldn’t have brought her with him this weekend.

“Let’s pause a second,” Benny announces. “I have to use the little girls’ room. If the server comes back, can you ask for another kiddie cocktail, please? And see if it can have a ton of cherries.’” She slides out of her velvet-covered chair and gives us a pointed look. “No secrets while I’m gone.”

I fake zip my lip.