Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
“You’re cute when you’re pouting. And cuter still when you’re crushing on my car,” I say.
“Only a little,” she says in a distant voice.
Then she gives me this quick look and snatches her eyes away, a red blush igniting on her cheeks.
Fuck, this Not Date might be lethal.
The drive to Sweeter Grind takes no time.
Once we’re there, the mood changes. A grim tension settles over us—everyone but Millie—who babbles about Tiffany and some game they played earlier.
Reese helps Millie out of her kiddie seat and we all walk inside the coffee shop together. I buy a couple drinks and a lollipop for the kid.
Millie has the candy sucker in her mouth, but holds the stick like it’s a cigar, pointing at me while I wait for our coffee.
“Are you the boss now?” I ask.
The tyke folds her arms in front of her chest and nods at me, the spitting image of every famous Chicago mobster. I chuckle.
Then I feel Reese pulling at my shoulder, her eyes wide with uncertainty as she whispers, “Nick. That’s him.”
I watch a bulky blond man with a crew cut and two-day-old stubble come marching in. Will Frisk looks slow, agitated, and one ugly glance away from being pissed off.
My eyes never leave him as he slides into an empty booth, waiting for us. I grab our drinks and we make our way over.
“Reese? Sorry to hear about Abby,” he says as soon as he realizes who we are. “Thanks for taking care of my daughter.”
Yeah. Out-of-town gig or not, if that was my woman or even an ex who’s still the mother of my kid, there’s no way it would’ve taken me over a week to find out what’s going on.
Find a better excuse, scumbucket, I think to myself.
I try to remind myself not to be judgmental. Only, we have instincts for a reason, and this guy trips every alarm my nervous system has.
He spots Millie trying to climb on Reese’s lap and breaks into a smile. “There you are, baby. Come give your daddy a hug.”
He bends down, holding his arms out.
Millie’s eyes dart around, clinging to Reese’s hand as she steps behind her leg. She looks like she doesn’t even recognize him.
“Millie, what’s wrong?” I ask, looking down at her.
She takes the lollipop out of her mouth and turns her face up. “Don’t wanna hug a stranger. Mommy says if a stranger wants a hug I’m supposed to scream.” She shakes her head, curls swinging wildly.
Frisk gurgles—I think with disbelief.
I meet his eyes, daring him to argue that the kid’s lying and he’s more than a stranger to her.
“Millie, Daddy has to work out of town a lot. It’s not my fault. I’d be home more if I could,” he says, too much anger in his tone.
She’s just a kid, jackass. And your overgrown ass is very much a deadbeat father.
“Do I have to, Auntie Reese?” Millie asks slowly.
Reese nods, as I say, “No, you don’t.”
Reese stares at me with a raised brow. Half the blood drains out of her face.
Millie looks from her aunt to me.
Frisk bows up, his shoulders bristling as he looks at me and says, “Who the hell are you?”
“Millie, just listen to your aunt.” I meet Frisk’s eyes. “Nicholas Brandt. Nice to meet you.”
I hold my hand out. He takes it and tries to squeeze it to death. I love the shock in his eyes when he finds out I can squeeze back harder—and I can break his arm if he gives me a good reason.
“So, you’re Reese’s man?”
I wish.
Considering she’s right here, I say nothing. I don’t want to make this more uncomfortable than it already is.
“I’m moral support,” I bite off.
He gives me a confused look and nods limply. “Whatever. Millie, are you gonna give Daddy a hug?”
Reese gives her a reluctant nod, urging her on. The little girl peeks out from behind her aunt’s leg and holds her arms out as he bends, touching her little hands to the guy’s neck and instantly pulling away.
He’s squatting and her arms are at a weird angle. I realize too late that her lollipop sticks to his hair, then tumbles to the floor with a thunk!
Millie scoots back.
“Oh. Oh, shit.” Will picks the lollipop up from the floor, stands, and tries to give the sucker back to his daughter with the world’s slimiest grin.
“Trash it, Amelia,” Reese says.
“We’ll buy you a new one,” I say, holding my hand out. “I’ll take it. I don’t think you can reach the trash can.”
She puts it in my hand, and I pitch the dirty lollipop with a sidestep so my eyes never leave Will Frisk.
Another minute of awkward silence passes. We all sit down at a table just inside the door. Millie climbs in Reese’s lap. Reese is beside me, and Will sits across from us.