Page 17 of My Boyfriend Marks Trees
“Nah, that would be the pie.”
“It was good pie,” she admitted. “There’s not much left. I kind of had a piece for both breakfast and lunch.”
He laughed. “I swear it’s like you’re trying to make me fall in love with you.”
The words emerged from his mouth, and he froze.
She froze.
They stared at each other.
“Uh…” He had no comeback.
But she did. She leaned up and brushed her lips over his cheek, murmuring, “I’m almost tempted to let you.”
Then she went back inside.
And he grinned because she didn’t tell him to fuck off.
Chapter 6
The following afternoon,having taken off early from work due to Greta’s Christmas concert, Charly, using her new borrowed wheels, dropped off a resume at a new dental office and got an on-the-spot interview. When she met up with Ares outside of Charly’s school, she practically exploded upon seeing him.
“I got it,” she exclaimed.
“Got what?”
“A new job.” Her lips curved. “I start after New Year’s.”
“That is fantastic!” He lifted her and whirled her around.
She laughed. “Thank you so much. Your help with the ride…” She shook her head. “I don’t know how I can repay you.”
“You already have by inviting me to a concert. I am stoked.”
Her lips pursed. “Says a man who’s never been to a school concert before. Let me tell you, it’s painful.”
“How bad can it be?”
Given Greta was in a split junior/ senior kindergarten, it involved some kids crying. One little boy, in absolute hysterics, kept reaching for his mother in the front row. Those not having a meltdown sang off-key while not always using the expected words. There was the kid who picked pompoms off his uglysweater and threw them. The little girl who yanked another’s pigtails. And the finale included a fight over who would ting the triangle because, apparently, the second one went missing.
Despite the drama, Greta was perfect, singing with gusto, wearing a bright red dress Charlotte had picked up second-hand at a garage sale.
Ares beamed like a proud parent when Greta sang her two-line solo and gave her a standing ovation and a whistle at the end, which had her little munchkin beaming so hard Charlotte’s heart burst. How could this man who barely knew them act more like a father than Greta’s own ever did?
After they returned to her house, in two vehicles since he had his truck, he insisted they go to dinner, his treat. “Your choice,” he told Greta.
And of course, her kid, whose idea of fine dining differed from an adult’s, hollered, “McDonald’s!”
Hence why her first not-at-home dinner date with Ares occurred in a Golden Arches restaurant and not the fun kind she grew up with. It now resembled a black and gray box, but at least the food remained the same. The fries too salty but deliciously crunchy. The Big Mac just as yummy with its sloppy special sauce. Greta had a Happy Meal and was excited about her prize. Ares had a quarter pounder with cheese, a McChicken, nuggets, and an extra-large fry.
“Hungry?” Charlotte teased as he dug in.
“Always. Mickey D’s has always been a favorite of mine.”
“Me too,” chirped Greta.
“Apple or blueberry pie for dessert?” he asked.