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He seemed helpless to resist her, throwing out his free arm. “How do you say no to her?”
“With the knowledge, if I don’t, I’ll have to live with a monster,” I replied.
He made a rumbling sound. “Smart mama. Hope you don’t mind me joining you for dinner. The invitation was too forceful to pass up.”
“Forceful?” I laughed as I settled my daughter into her seat and booped her nose. “Not my Antonella Lucia.”
Nellie nodded up at Jake. “That’s my big name.”
“Yeah?” He slid into the chair beside mine. “Big names are cool. Mine’s Jacob, but everyone’s called me Jake for as long as I can remember.”
Nellie scrunched her nose, not seeming to know how to reply. I took over. Jake calling me CeeCee when we were in our fantasy world was one thing, but him doing it in real life didn’t feel right.
“My big name is Clara.” Jake’s brow winged at my admission. I went on. “No one has ever called me CeeCee. Not until you.”
“Clara.” He rolled the letters around on his tongue. “Yeah, I like that. Soft and classic. It suits you a lot better than CeeCee.”
I smoothed my hands over my thighs before clutching them in my lap. There weren’t many things that made me nervous—certainly not men—but my palms were sweaty, and I wanted to jump out of my skin. The Jake effect. He’d managed to get under my skin from first contact, and now, in a situation I never wanted to be in, I still couldn’t stop my body’s reaction to his proximity.
“I don’t know why I didn’t give you my real name.”
“I do.” His lids lowered as he looked me over. “You wanted there to be no chance for something like this”—he gestured between us with his straw—“to happen. Maybe you wanted to play a role too—to loosen up, forget who you are on the daily.”
“Maybe all that’s true,” I admitted.
A worker brought our trays of food, interrupting just in time. I set Nellie’s up in front of her while Jake put together the little junky toy her kids’ meal had come with. Once she was happy, I dug into my own food, taking bigger bites than I normally would to slake the gnawing hunger and get this over with as soon as possible.
“I’m guessing you live in Denver,” Jake said out of nowhere.
A waffle fry poised midair, I jerked my head in his direction. “I do. You too?”
He nodded once. “Outskirts. Can’t live in the middle of the city. I’ll go stir-crazy.”
“I never took you as a city guy. I’m surprised you can manage the outskirts.”
His shoulder went up. “Necessity. Have to be close to work and family. You two live in one of the downtown high-rises?”
I snorted a laugh. “No. That’s not me. And my monkey couldn’t survive without a yard.”
Nellie gave us her best ketchup-rimmed grin. “I’m a monkey.”
“That’s right.” I patted her head. “A wild, untamed monkey who needs green space in order to be properly civilized inside.”
Nellie’s response was gorilla noises.
“Who does the mowing?” he asked.
I chuffed. “Not me.”
His brow went heavy. “Why not you?”
“Because my father is old-school Italian in a lot of ways. He’d rather I spit in his face than do yard work.”
“So, your…husband takes care of the yard?”
My gut turned to ice, all the food molding into a frozen block. Nellie, busy playing with her new toy and eating her dinner at a snail’s pace, hadn’t heard Jake’s question. It was the only reason I didn’t toss a waffle fry at his crinkled forehead.
“Is this your way of telling me you’re married?” I countered.
