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For confirmation? Permission? In plea?
Something.
So I adjust Mia on my hip and nod. “You should come to dinner at the bar. Minka and Arch will be there, and Aubree’s already got her stool claimed and her eyes on the bartender.”
“I can’t.” She tugs on the door handle, releasing the seal and letting in evening traffic noise through the gap she makes. “I have plans.”
I take a step forward to follow. “What plans?”
“Yeah, Miss Fifi…” Mia flashes a playful grin that fortunately—or unfortunately, I’m not sure which yet—matches mine exactly when I’m teasing. “What plans do you got?”
“Um… dinner.” She pulls the door open and holds the bulk of it with her hip. “I have a date.”
“A date?” Mia gasps. “Wif who?”
“Yeah?” I take another step and hold the door open when she continues out. “Wif who?”
“You don’t know him.” She reaches back and chucks Mia’s chin, softening her dismissal with a smile. But then she meets my eyes and sheds that kindness. “None of your business.”
“I can make it my business,” I tell her. “It’s my duty to ensure you’re being safe, Ms. Lewis. Dating strange men in the dark does not qualify, and running a name through my computer at work is a simple way to cut through the muck and make certain everyone is behaving.”
“Behaving?” she asks incredulously. Then she snickers. “Start with yourself.”
She finally crosses the threshold and removes herself completely from my building, then huddling into her coat and crossing her arms to battle the evening breeze, she flips her long hair back over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Mia ‘Moo-Moo’ Fletcher. Don’t forget your little monkey,” she nods to the purple animal lying discarded on the bench that’s literally bolted into the wall. “He’s cute. You’d be sad if you left him behind.”
“Yeah, but I like my Care Bears better.” Mia wiggles and slides along my body until I set her on her feet. “I got yours in my room, Miss Fifi.” She points toward the stairs, past an eagerly attentive Ms. Penny, who watches us with amused affection and a lifted brow. “The one you got me for my birfday,” Mia continues, oblivious to how I peel my gaze from Penny and hide the blush battling to warm my cheeks. “He sleeps in my bed at nighttime.”
“I think that’s lovely. Well, see you later.” Sera lifts her hand and gives my daughter a little wave, then before I can dash outside and sweep her up to keep her in here with us, she turns and goes on with her life.
“Well, well, well…” Satisfied and smug, Penny slides the strap of her bag over one arm, then folds both in to rest beneath her overlarge bosom. “It would appear I know the answer to my questions.”
“Shush.” I pick Mia back up, her presence acting as my shield, and with leftover panic still bubbling in my blood, I settle her on my hip, then hold the door for Penny to pass—though I make damn sure our eyes don’t meet. “You need to mind your own business.”
“Funny,” she comes to a stop on the curb as cars and cabs cruise along the street. “I thought raising Miawasmy business.” Waving a cab to a stop and grabbing the door handle to reveal the back seat, she glances over at me as I carry Mia onto the sidewalk, and smirks. “Color me intrigued, Mr. Fletcher, but it would seem Ms. Fifi is your type.”
“I don’t have a type,” I grumble. “And if I did, it wouldn’t be the highly strung, severely uptight, pencil-skirt-wearing Seraphina Lewis. Not for the long-term, like you’re thinking.”
“Uh-huh. Odd, though, because beneath the pencil-skirt, highly-strung persona, was a woman who was both worried about your daughter, and kind to her. And you’re blind if you don’t notice those dancer’s legs. Which…” Laughing, she slips into the backseat and closes her door, but she pokes her face through the open window. “Isexactlyyour type.”
With a groan, I press a hand to Mia’s ear, and crush the other against my shoulder to block her hearing. “You’re fired,” I tell Penny halfheartedly. Then I turn away from her haughty smirk and start toward the bar. “Your services are no longer required.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she cackles, like the little old lady she is. “You do need me, Mr. Fletcher. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”
“Daddy!” Mia fights my hand, and giggles when I make it difficult for her to get free. “You can’t fire Miss Penny! She makes my breakfast the way I like.”
“I was kidding, Moo.” I press a kiss to her temple and shake my head as Penny’s cab pulls away from the curb. “Daddy was being silly. She’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”
“Good. Hey, Daddy? Who do you think Fifi is going on a date wif?” She rests her hands on my shoulders and straightens her back, so I have to balance her weight or risk dropping her. “And what do people do when they’re on a date?”
MINKA
“Roger Wilson is Kyle Andrews.” I sit back in my office chair the next day—Monday, though I’ve had no weekend to speak of—and twirl my steel ruler between my fingers, while across from me, Archer’s intense stare follows my hands.
His gaze jumps to my bad shoulder every few seconds, but I’m feeling better today than I did yesterday. And I felt better yesterday than the day before.
I’m on the mend and sprinting toward a new normal that’ll hopefully exclude the use of a sling.
Fletch paces by my floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, his cattle-dog-esque personality making it impossible for him to sit still. In direct contrast, Aubree rests on the leather couch and meditates. Or plays sudoku in her mind. I don’t know what she thinks about, but where Fletch can’t stop, she’s yet to move a single muscle in all the time we’ve been in here.
