“Agreed.”
“Okay.”
Silence finds us, but our eyes remain locked.
He grins, smoothly shifting topics. “Come for dinner Saturday? You and Lola?”
Gosh, the man has smolder. It’s hypnotizing, and right now it’s directed at me. I need to wrap my head around demanding-Hayes who quickly turns tender when itinvolves Lola, but it also feels like his request isn't just for her.
I stare at him, stuck in his magic. Then it hits me—we have steps to take. “Okay,” I croak.
“Are you going to keep saying okay? I can add that you both can stay over.” Now he’s just being cheeky.
I point at him. “Hold it together, Hayes.”
He places his hand on his heart. “I am. It’s an innocent invite. You can check Lola’s room, and there’s a guest room if you want it.”
Now he’s just flirting.
“I need to get out of here before this conversation goes south again.”
Somehow, that doesn’t really stop the innuendo.
He continues to smirk, his tongue sliding along the inside of his cheek before he leans toward the front. “You can return to the office,” he tells the driver.
“Please,” I add, flippant.
It's a short drive, and at the end, that man’s eyes meet mine, and I leave this world. He must know that.
I exit the car, and I don’t look back.
But I feel his heavy eyes on me.
And now I’m wondering what the weekend will bring.
7
HAYES
My heart is beating fast as Elodie leans down and, with careful fingers, unbuttons Lola’s coat. They’re in my hallway to join me for the afternoon. Spending time with Lola is important, and Elodie agrees, but I also sense she wants to inspect where our daughter will be spending some of her time. Lola, with part of her hair up in a ponytail on the top of her head, glances up at me with curiosity as Elodie unclasps the last button. Lola timidly stares at me. That’s a promising start.
Elodie slowly stands up, and the air thickens between us. The situation is delicate.
“Come on. I’ll show you around.” I wave to them to follow me.
Elodie takes Lola’s hand. They trail into the large, open living room. The ceilings are high, and the windows stretch from floor to ceiling. It makes the place seem bright.
I hear Elodie begin to chuckle, and I glance at her.
“Brave. A cream-colored sofa. You clearly haven’t spent much time around kids.”
I scratch the back of my head, realizing my error. “Nosnacks on the couch then,” I say, already picturing crumbs on the cushions.
Elodie continues to beam as she shakes her head back and forth. “Wrong answer. How will she enter a daze of watching cartoons while snacking? It’s your moment of silence to regain your sanity.”
Grinning, I appreciate her lighthearted judgment. "Speaking of snacks, would you like one after the tour?"
Lola appears shy yet smiles as she clasps Elodie’s hand. Snack is apparently a trigger word.