It Started With a Kiss (Insta-Spark)

She chuckled. “Then talk boys. Give her your expert opinion.”

“My opinion is I think they’re all after one thing and she should be locked up ‘til she’s thirty, but you won’t let me.”

“Go ahead and share that with her today,” she retorted dryly. “She’ll punch you.”

“I need you here.”

“Nope. She wants her daddy. I gotta go. See you later. Love you!” She hung up.

Maggie returned, looking calmer. I slid her fresh glass closer, hoping the chocolate would help. It always helped Avery.

I exhaled and straightened my shoulders. “Okay, Maggie. I don’t understand. Josh didn’t tell you that your, ah, butt looked big, so tell me why you’re so upset.”

She regarded me as if I had sprouted an extra head. “He didn’t tell me it looked good either.”

I blinked.

Then I glanced around the restaurant, wondering if I was being set-up. Was I being Punk’d? Was Avery standing somewhere with Beth, taping our conversation, laughing as I tried to figure out what to say?

I looked back at Maggie, then took a drink of water, wishing it was alcohol—very strong alcohol.

“Did, you, um, ask him?”

“What?”

I cleared my throat. “Did you ask how your butt looked in your jeans? Directly.”

“No.”

I warmed to the subject a little. “We men are fairly simple creatures, Maggie. If you had asked him how your butt looked instead of asking if it looked big, I think you would have liked the answer better.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “Our brains don’t work the same as yours do.”

She frowned, grabbed her phone, and sent off a text. Picking up her milk, she sipped, watching the screen. “Is that because teenage guys are always thinking about sex?”

The water I was swallowing caught in my throat, and I coughed loudly. “Where did you hear that?” I sputtered.

“Everyone knows that, and I asked Dylan—he said it was true. Plus, I’ve heard you say it often enough.”

Oh.

“I’ll talk to Dylan, and sometimes I say things I shouldn’t. Ask your mom. She’ll tell you I’m whacked.” I lowered my voice. “Is Josh, ah . . . ?” I left the question hanging.

Her mouth dropped open, cheeks flaming. “No! Daddy—no! He knows I’m not ready. We’re both waiting.”

The fondness I had for Josh increased tenfold. “Oh. Well, good to know.”

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, reading the screen. A huge smile spread across her face and she typed back a reply. She picked up her pizza, took a large bite, and chewed happily. “Are we going to play mini golf after dinner?”

Her sudden change in mood surprised me. “You, ah, want to?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

I looked around once more. I’d missed something. “You feel better now?”

“Yep. I asked Josh. Just like you said.”