The hint of defeat in his tone saddens me a little, but I think the last thing he wants or needs from me is pity. I crinkle my nose and lean back in my seat, giving him a lazy perusal. “You realize that only makes you more attractive, right?”
“That I’m broke?” A burst of laughter shakes his chest.
“No.” I reach out and playfully swat his shoulder. “Your dedication and tenacity. No woman wants to date a lazy ass.” Shit! My eyes dart to David. “Butt.” I wince. I’m used to censoring myself, but for a second I almost forgot he was here. “Sorry.”
The corners of Isaac’s lips kick up with the start of a smile that never really takes hold. “So, be honest. On the list of all things you expected when you agreed to have dinner with me tonight, where did single dad rank? Because you don’t seem like you want to run, and I’m trying to decipher whether you’re just being polite or a really good actress.”
“Obviously, I’m a fantastic actress and someday I’ll have an Emmy to add credibility to that statement.” I grin, brushing my hair over one shoulder and leaning toward him. My gaze drops to watch David play. “I never would have pegged you for a father, but that’s only because you never said anything.” I lift my stare to hold Isaac’s and scoot a few inches closer. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
Energy crackles between us. A magnetic pull. One I can’t deny and have no intention of fighting.
“Good.” Isaac smiles, his gaze falling to where he twists the beer bottle between his hands. “That’s good.” He meets my stare. “I probably shouldn’t say this. It probably ruins whatever game you thought I had.” He chuckles and scrubs a hand along his jawline. “But I’m happy you’re here, Cora.”
I like that he’s not playing it cool. That he says exactly what he feels. Add it to the ever-growing list of things I find most attractive about this man. I rest my hand on his knee. “I’m happy I’m here too.” And I am. This date is not what I expected. Not like any date I’ve ever been on, but that’s not a bad thing. If I’m honest, he continues to blow all my expectations out of the water, and I’m here for every second.
Nineteen
Isaac
She’s amazing with David. Of course she is. She’s damn near perfect.
As I pull the enchiladas out of the oven and finish setting the table, she drops to the floor and watches him play before attempting to join. Of course, David ignores her, but he doesn’t get agitated when she takes one of his cars and races it around the floor—with sound effects and everything. I have to bite back a chuckle as her commentary mimics a news traffic report. She’s comfortable with him. Doesn’t push for him to give her a direct response, and after a few more minutes, he pushes one of his trucks into her hand.
“Oh? Is this for me? Thank you, David.” She turns the toy truck in circles. “This is a Ford F150. It’s too tiny a motor for my taste, but it’s a solid model. Don’t you think?”
He hands her another.
She picks it up, chatters on with more car talk, and I can’t peel my gaze away. It’s such a simple gesture. Her kindness isn’t showy or forced, but it’s directed at my son. A kid who’s often overlooked. I swear my chest aches to accommodate the expansion of my heart, and it’s almost too much.
Cora’s gaze lifts, catching my stare from the table, and she smiles softly, almost as if she’s embarrassed for getting caught. “Dinner ready?”
“Yeah.” I close the space between us and hold out my hand to help her off the floor. My hand tingles from where it touches hers, and I miss the loss of her touch as soon as she pulls it back.
“Do you mind if I use your restroom?”
“It’s right there.” I point at the first door in our short hallway. “I’m gonna put him down. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“He’s not gonna eat with us?” She almost seems disappointed. Fucking hell, she really is perfect.
“I fed him before you got here.” I scoop David off the floor and he cuddles into my chest. “It’s his bedtime.” I rub the back of his neck, and meet her stare. “Besides, I was looking forward to having some time just the two of us.”
“Oh.” She bites her bottom lip, her stare zeroing in on my mouth. Fuck. That’s not exactly what I implied, but hell if the idea of picking up where we left off in the coffee shop kitchen doesn’t sound exciting.
Her cheeks darken with her blush. “I like that plan too.” She turns away and heads into the restroom which is a good thing because I need to get David down before we can pick up that conversation.
Silently, I change him into a clean diaper and pajamas. I make a few silly faces, kissing and tickling his belly to earn the hint of a smile. His arms wrap tight around my neck when I move him to the bed. He doesn’t want me to go.
“I know, mijo. I wish I could snuggle with you, too, but it’s not my bedtime yet.”
He burrows his head into my neck.
“I love you too. Sleep good, okay?” I peel his arms off of me and lay him onto the bed, handing him his favorite blanket. He pulls it to his chin, his little thumb and forefinger working the worn fabric in a soothing motion. Brushing back his hair, I press a kiss on his forehead and push off the bed. Thankfully, he doesn’t cry or protest.
Leaving the door cracked an inch, I head back out to the kitchen to find Cora waiting. She’s leaning against the counter, phone in hand and gaze focused on the screen. A few strands of her blonde locks fall forward and frame her face. My breath catches in my throat—her beauty is so natural, perfect, and real. My fingers itch for a pencil, an urge that catches me by surprise. I haven’t wanted to draw, or paint, or throw pottery in years. I shake it aside, and clear my throat.
“Hey.” She smiles. “He went down easy.”
“He’s a really good kid.”
“I can see that.”
“You hungry?”
She clutches her stomach. “Starved.” She pulls out one of the chairs and takes a seat.
“Good.” I wash my hands and bring the casserole dish to the table.
We talk about work, people on set, and her time in Brazil. She’s a natural storyteller and so damn animated when she talks. When I ask her a question, her entire face lights up and she snags bites of food between conversation. I could listen to her for hours. It’s nice to not take the lead, or have that normal discomfort that comes with a first date, if this is even a date. I try not to make assumptions, but hell, do I wish I had the balls to ask her how she feels about me—about us.
“Can I get you more?” I nod to her empty plate.
“No. I’m stuffed. That was amazing.”
“Another beer?”
“Sure.” She stands when I do and without asking she helps me clear the table.
I quickly box up the leftovers and stick them in the fridge, then retrieve two more beers. It’s all so domestic, moving around the kitchen together, and my heart aches a little. Is this what it would be like to have a partner? To not do everything on my own?