“Oh, oh!” Ronnie points at a pair of adorable blobs she made. “That’s Darla and Dottie. They’re chasing squirrels. Such silly pups.”
“Uh-huh, very silly.” Byron slips on the boots like the devoted father he is. “Better than ever.”
His little girl squeals and latches onto him for a giddy squeeze. Her tiny index finger traces a line down his nose, swooping off the tip and landing for a tap on his chin. Byron does the same to her in return. It appears to be a meaningful gesture I don’t understand and now isn’t the time to pry.
Ronnie claps her palms against her dad’s cheeks, giving him an exuberant shake. “I knew you’d like them!”
“How could I not? You made them special for me.” Byron hugs her until she wiggles free. “Was this your idea, cupcake?”
“Nope! Frankie was coloring while I was sleepin’ on the couch and then I woke up and asked if I could help.”
When Byron straightens, his wrath pins me in place. “Do you think this is funny?”
“Obviously,” I deadpan.
“I didn’t hire you to be a bad influence on my daughter.”
“Shouldn’t have hired me then.”
When Ronnie twirls out of earshot, Byron dips down to growl at me. “You’re gonna pay for this, little menace.”
I arch a brow. “Take it out of my check. I’m still getting paid, right?”
He seethes, but straightens when his little girl is within listening range again. “Are you complaining about money?”
“Asks the person who’s never had to worry about it,” I mutter.
Byron slips a credit card from his wallet. “Use that for whatever you need.”
I pluck the sleek plastic from between his fingers. “You trust me not to go over your limit?”
“I dare you to try reaching it.”
The narrowing of my eyes accepts his challenge. “Careful, stud. If you mess with the viper, she’ll bite.”
“Do your worst,” he taunts. His gaze drops to his boots and a smirk slants his lips. “It’s adorable when you try.”
“Daddy! Guess what?” Ronnie pulls at his sleeve, done being on the sidelines. “Frannie is gonna give me lotsa tattoos. Just like you and her. I’m gonna have pictures on my skin too!”
If looks could kill, Byron would bury me alive in the back forty.
But I ignore the death threat by inspecting the sharp points of my matte black nails. “Adorable, right?”
My sharp gaze searches the dimly lit interior of Sip in the Stacks. According to my bank notifications, a certain redhead just paid a ridiculous amount for what this place has to offer. That approved charge led me straight to her. It’s almost like Frankie wants me to hunt her down.
When the first floor doesn’t expose her location, I stalk to the second level. That’s where she’s curled up on an oversized leather chair in a semi-secluded nook. Tall bookshelves provide the illusion of an escape from the outside world.
Frankie is captivated by the paperback that’s spread open on her lap. That allows me to watch her undetected for a minute. Auburn hair the shade of roaring flames cascades around herlike a shield. She’s beautiful in a way that’s untouchable. If I dare to get too close, I’ll immediately regret it.
That doesn’t mean I can’t admire her from a safe distance. Tight denim and leather protects most of her from my stare. She wiggles a pen between her fingers while reading, completely unaware of her audience. This appears to be her element and I’m getting sucked in.
Rather than surrender to the pull, I force my attention to shift. There’s a large drink on the table next to her with entirely too much whipped cream. A bag overflowing with craft supplies is on the floor. Several books are piled in a tote. I find myself contemplating how she’ll get all this home on her bike. But she’s nothing if not resourceful.
That thought gives me pause. It’s only then I recall how little I actually know about her. Maybe it’s time to change that. For Ronnie’s sake, of course.
“Is that the best you can do, menace?”
Frankie startles at my voice in the otherwise quiet space. Her shocked expression smooths over almost instantly, replaced with her typical indifference. “Is that how you usually greet a woman? No wonder you’re single.”