Daddy in Disguise (Crescent Cove 7)

We chose a table in back, closest to the pass-through that led to the apartments upstairs. I didn’t relish Macy coming downstairs and seeing me seated with another woman on our date night, but I also wasn’t going to squirrel away in a shadowy corner.

If Macy and I were going to make some kind of go at this—or hell, even if we were going to fuck each other’s brains out and part as reluctant friends—I intended to keep all my cards firmly on the table. That was the only way I knew how to be. Especially after my unintended near miss with Macy regarding not telling her right away about Dani.

“You don’t want a drink?” Jessica sipped hers and made a face. “I see why. It’s not total swill, but definitely not like Paris.”

“I’m sure Macy will be heartbroken at your assessment.” I leaned back in my chair and slung an arm over the back. Already I was antsy to get this over with. “So, why are you here with no warning?”

“What, I can’t visit my own baby girl without scheduling it first?”

“According to the courts, no.”

“You’ve always been so rigid, John. Were you this tedious while we were married?” Before I could respond, she hurried on. “All the more reason I couldn’t wait any longer to visit. I have concerns.”

My gut tightened as if it was being twisted by a fist. “Such as?”

Jessica trailed a glossy pale pink nail along the edge of her china cup. She must’ve asked for one like that, since Macy’s collection of cups for in house drinks were on the funky, eclectic side. Not tiny and fussy with little roses. “What’s this media circus you?

?ve subjected my daughter to? I have to say, I expected more from you than airing dirty laundry—ancient dirty laundry to boot. Irreconcilable differences are no excuse to potentially harm my child.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Vee creeping closer with a tray of drinks precariously balanced on her baby bump. I nearly rose to help her, but she edged away before I could.

“Your child is our child, and I have no clue what you mean.”

“Oh, really. You don’t recall telling Tillie Neusbottom—what kind of name is that, by the way—that your ex-wife cheated on you while you were live on camera? I’m surprised you would be so tacky, but I suppose small towns have a way of doing that to you.”

I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes as my muscles locked. A common reaction to Dani’s mother, but this time was worse than ever before. “What exactly do you want?”

“Are you denying you subjected my girl to a media firestorm thanks to your libido?” She looked down her ski-jump nose at me. “No wonder Dani was so worried about you and your hermit lifestyle, if you think the way to find someone is to announce your desperation on Facebook.”

“Dani was worried about me, hmm? If you know that much, then you probably won’t be shocked to find out our daughter decided to make that post for me. Also, I wasn’t the one to give her your old phone, and I wasn’t the one who was probably filling her head with God knows what.” I clenched my jaw. “Like saying I looked sloppy. That was a particularly nice one.”

“I don’t recall using those exact words.”

I shifted in my seat. It was taking everything I possessed to not take off. Hell, I’d prefer to meet Macy somewhere rather than sit here.

“Right.”

“Well, for God’s sake, look at yourself. Do you even shave anymore? And a Poison T-shirt? Are you actually serious right now? On top of that, you’re blaming my child for what you obviously did because you’re starved for attention.” Her pursed lips as she looked me up and down told me her thoughts on that score exactly. “Which means your focus isn’t where it should be—on my daughter.”

“Starved for attention, is it? Is that what you believe?”

Macy’s voice from behind me had my spine stiffening, although it turned to liquid when she took advantage of my sideways position at the table to slide onto my lap.

Macy Devereaux was on my lap. In public. In her own café.

She wore some killer outfit I couldn’t quite process. Dark blue jeans with slashes in the thighs. A black off-the-shoulder top with her hair in an updo that left her neck distractingly bare, allowing her spicy cinnamon scent to tease me mercilessly. I couldn’t imagine a cinnamon perfume, but such a thing had to exist because if I lowered my head and sniffed, she smelled like fucking sin.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Macy. And you are?” Macy dropped her big purse on the table with enough force to make Jessica’s china cup rattle, and she reared back in her chair as if Macy was a cobra about to strike.

Which it turned out she was, just not the way Jessica thought.

Before Jessica could reply, Macy shifted toward me and stroked her fingertips over my bearded jaw. Her fingertips glittered with some shimmery polish, which was the last thing I saw before her mouth touched mine.

Actually, no. She feasted on me as if I was a piece of chocolate cake and she’d missed dinner.

Did I mind? Hell no.

Did I understand? Absolutely not.