Single Dad Seeks Juliet

“What…what are you doing?” I ask, flabbergasted. “That’s a garnish.”

He shrugs. “Tastes like lettuce to me.”

“You’re not supposed to eat it,” I point out further.

“So?”

“You just ate it!”

“I know,” he confirms. “Still chewing on it right now.”

“I just… Why would you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I do it? It’s edible. It’s on my plate. I ate it.”

“That’s so not the point.”

He quirks a brow. “And what is the point exactly?”

Head absolutely spinning that we’re in the middle of another semi-spat over him being a freak, I decide to drop it. “Never mind.”

A soft chortle slips past his full lips. “Man, that’s going to bother you all day, isn’t it?”

“It’s just weird!” I snap.

His hand shoots out and grabs the garnish from my plate and shoves that in his mouth too.

“Why?” I whine into my hands. “Why are you taunting me?”

He cracks up then, but he eventually reaches across the table to pull my hands off my eyes. “Okay,” he says with a raise of his hands in surrender. “I’m done.”

I snort. “That’s because you’ve eaten it all!”

“Maybe,” he concedes with a wink.

“Just eat your real food now, weirdo.”

I don’t have to tell him twice. He scoops a giant piece of egg onto his fork and lifts it to his mouth, and I tuck into my own food. We really do have a long day ahead of us, and I have a lot of notes to take. This first article isn’t going to write itself, and unlucky for me, it’s already due tomorrow afternoon because it’s supposed to print in the Sunday edition. I have no choice but to get it done.

Jake’s phone buzzes on the table, and a smile lights his face as he wipes his mouth with his napkin, sets his fork on his plate, and picks it up to answer it.

“Good morning, Chlo,” he says into the space between us, the phone tucked close to his ear. His words are warm and familiar, and his heart is in his eyes.

It’s more than apparent, his sun rises and sets within his daughter.

I smile to myself but duck my head back down to look at my plate.

“Yeah. I know,” he continues his conversation. “Yeah, she’s right across from me. We’re having breakfast.”

He chuckles, and an intense curiosity lights my whole body on fire. They’re talking about me, and I need to know what they’re saying.

“I am being nice,” he asserts. “Why wouldn’t I be nice?”

He laughs again, then snaps at me to look up at him. I do, obviously, and I’m even half confident that I don’t look guilty as hell when I do. No, no, Jake. I haven’t already been listening to your conversation with bated breath at all…

“What?” I mouth, but he waves a hand to say never mind.

“What, then? Do you want me to send proof of life or something?” Curiosity makes me scrunch my face as he offers, “I could take a picture of her right now. Send it to you.”

Panic shoots into my veins. Whoa, whoa, whoa. No pictures of me are supposed to occur.

“I am being serious,” he responds, a perpetual chuckle making the air between us vibrate. “You’ll see her tonight, and you can ask all the questions you want yourself…” He pauses, and I listen harder. It doesn’t help, but my ears do ring a little with the extra concentration. “Yes. Dinner at Boogie’s.”

Boogie’s?

Familiarity makes my synapses light up. My dad and I have been going to a place named Boogie’s ever since he sold the family farm in Iowa and moved out here to retire and be closer to me a couple years ago. He says it’s the only thing that makes him feel even remotely close to home. Well, that and me.

“Listen, Chlo, I have to go. Gotta be at work in half an hour.” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “I know I’m the boss, but it doesn’t matter. What are you doing today?”

He listens for a minute, transforming from playful back to full-on dad mode. “Okay. Text me when you get there, text me when you leave. You know the drill. And be careful. Always pay attention to your surroundings, yeah?”

Chloe’s response makes him smile. “I know I always say it, and I always will. Even when you’re forty.”

I set my fork down and settle my hand into my chest, no doubt in an attempt to stop the newly awakened flutter under my ribs. Goodness gracious, single dads—good ones—really do have a hotness about them that’s unmatched. I think it’s because they show their ability to love. With every conversation, every kiss, every consideration they give their kids, women see the opportunity to be given the same. It’s concrete, black-and-white evidence of a man’s ability to think outside of himself. Which isn’t exactly on the top of the list of the male’s biological strengths.