Page 9 of Scouting the Single Dad

Layla:

Ha ha. Delete that from your memory immediately.

Layla:

Setting aside my accidental proposition, do you need additional rooms?

Hayes:

Nope. Just me and my kid.

Layla:

Copy that. Double-checking because the Lodge books up fast during Fall Fest. We’ve got wood-carving demos, a chili cook-off, pie-eating contest, live music on the dock and as you may have heard from Harris: Lumberjacks.

Hayes:

Great. My daughter will eat that shit up.

Layla:

Do either of you have any allergies? Logistical needs? Requests? I can prepare a rider for you if you’d like . . .

Hayes:

I’m not a celebrity—I don’t need a rider.

Layla:

Okay. Just asking . . .

Hayes:

No allergies. No wrangler. I’m in and out with a few dips in the lake. No special snacks unless you want to add sour gummies to the welcome basket. She loves anything blue.

Layla:

Perfect. I should mention that while the lake is big and gorgeous and will have tons of activity . . . the water isn’t going to be warm. Since it’s fall and all.

Hayes:

Kids don’t usually give a shit. She’ll be fine. And for what it’s worth, thanks for thinking about my kid.

Layla:

Of course. What kind of monster ignores a nine-year-old’s need to swim in a lake?

Hayes:

A tired one.

Layla:

Are you tired?

Hayes:

Always.