Page 27 of Scouting the Single Dad

Benny shrugs, utterly unfazed. “We’re stuck in a truck together, we might as well get to know each other.”

We are most certainly not stuck in traffic. There is none. Zero traffic.

Beside her, Hayes exhales through his nose, a long-suffering “Bernadette Evelyn.”

He breaks out the full name on her, the edge in his tone enough to cause her to dip her head, admonished.

“What? It’s a normal question!” She leans closer to me, shoulder pressing against my arm, eyes sparkling as she looks up at me adoringly. “Everyone has a type—even me.”

I laugh again, relieved that the restaurant is around the next corner. “Well. Since you asked and appear extremely interested, my type would be someone reliable. Charming. A sense of humor doesn’t hurt.”

Benny narrows her eyes, gaze sliding to her dad. “Sense of humor? Ugh.” She seems disappointed that’s among my answers. “Not the most interesting answer.”

Hayes growls, low and warning. “Don’t.”

“What about a divorced guy? Would you date him?”

“Sure?”

“What about a guy with kids?”

I feel my face get hot. “Sure.”

Benny gasps like I’ve just admitted to a scandal. She twists, wide eyed, to look at her dad. “Hear that? She would!”

“Oh my God.” He groans, sinking into the worn upholstery.

She just beams at me, completely ignoring him. “What about a guy who’s mostly grumpy sometimes in public, but nice underneath?”

Hayes exhales through his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounds like a prayer for patience. The tiny cab suddenly feels even smaller.

I choke on a laugh, caught between embarrassment and amusement. “That’s oddly specific.”

The restaurant’s awning finally comes into view, saving me from any further questioning by this ambitious child, and I nearly sag in relief. “Oh look! Velvet and Vine!”

Phew.

“Thank God,” Hayes grumbles.

As I pull up to the valet, Hayes doesn’t move. He sits in his seat stoically, head tipped back against the headrest, eyes closed like he needs one deep breath before facing the world again. Or maybe just before facing his daughter at the table.

I fumble to smooth my braid over my shoulder, wishing my cheeks weren’t still hot.

“Well. We made it.” Safe and sound and no worse for wear, albeit a bit mortified.

He side-eyes me, giving a look that’s equal parts suffering and resignation. “Barely.”

A single heartbeat of silence follows before Benny blurts out, “Dad, can Layla have dinner with us? Pleaseee?”

“Benny—I’m sure Layla has other shi—stuff to do. She said she is very busy.”

Benny clasps her hands together and turns those wide pleading eyes on me. “Please, please, please, you guys? It’s just dinner. Layla saved us. She deserves a steak.”

Her lashes flutter at him.

I open my mouth to politely decline, but right on cue my stomach lets out a loud, humiliating growl that vibrates in the silence of the cab—the way it used to growl back in middle school in a silent classroom before lunch.

Hayes’s head turns slowly, his gaze narrowing on me like he can’t believe what he just heard. The betrayal.