Page 139 of Scouting the Single Dad

What comes out is “That was . . . a lot.”

“I mean . . .” he says softly. “You know.”

I muster a smile.

“So that was Hayes Fielder, hey?”

“Yup.” That was him.

“I didn’t realize the two of you were . . .”

“We’re not.”

His eyes flick sideways, weighing my expression. He doesn’t press further, but the silence feels loaded, like there’s a second half to the sentence he’s not saying:

Then why is he here?

Grady hums, low in his throat, shifting the muffin bag from one hand to the other, rainwater beginning to absorb through the brown paper bag. “You seemed surprised to see him.”

“Because I was,” I admit.

He nods at that. Drizzle runs down his jaw, and I wish he’d spit out whatever’s circling his mind. Is he jealous? Is he simply gathering information? His face is too calm, too steady, for me to pin it down.

Finally, he says, “What does he want?”

I hesitate. “To talk.”

“So he’s the type to fly across the country just to say hi?”

I swallow, the air thick. “Apparently.”

We start walking back toward city hall, side by side, his boots thudding against wet pavement. He’s close enough that our shoulders could brush if I shifted an inch, but he keeps his hands loose at his sides.

His next question is quiet: “Do you have feelings for him?”

The way he says it—it could be concern, or maybe a test. My heart jumps, unsure how to answer without betraying something. “I don’t know him well enough to have feelings for him,” I lie. “I just know I wasn’t expecting him to show up unannounced.”

That is an understatement.

In my wildest dreams, I would never have imagined I would inspire a man to board an airplane and fly to see me because he missed me and needed to look me in the eyes when we spoke.

“Surprises can be flattering,” Grady says after a beat. “And unnerving.”

Is he talking about himself?

We pass the bakery—warm sugary air drifting out the propped-open door—and I think of how easy it would be to duck inside and pretend my life is simple by stuffing my face with carbs, and not complicated because of men.

Then I think of Benny laughing at the fall festival, and her hiding in the playhouse before school and how terrified Hayes was to lose her. How tired his eyes looked today, and of Grady’s patience.

“I don’t want to make you feel like you owe me an explanation,” he adds. “I’m just trying to understand where I fall into this equation.”

I haven’t told him Hayes offered me a room key. Or that he’s staying up at the lodge . . .

And that I’m considering going . . .

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and turn to face him. “Grady. I like you . . .” Words bottleneck in my throat. I try again. “You make me feel amazing.”

A beat. Rain freckles the shoulders of his jacket. “But?”