Wrong Place, Right Time(60)
“Sammy, paging Sammy,” Dev says in a booming voice. “You are needed at the French fry table immediately. Please report to the French fry table.”
The distinct sounds of my son giggling warm my heart. His little body comes shooting out of the tunnel and down a slide five seconds later, and he runs over to my side. “Where are my fryth, Mama? Dev thayth I gotta eat ’em.”
I follow my son and Dev back to the table, and sit down. I expect Sammy to eat two bites and tear off again, but instead he digs in, eating like I’ve starved him for two days. I marvel at how Dev is able to completely remove any McDonald’s headache from my brain, and at the same time, get my son to eat all of his lunch. Is there anything this man can’t do?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After loading Sammy into the back of my car and strapping him into his car seat, I stand outside the running vehicle with Dev by the driver-side door. With the air-conditioning going full blast to remove both the heat and the stifling humidity from the interior, Sammy has already fallen asleep.
“Well, that was an adventure,” Dev says, smiling.
“Life with Sammy is always an adventure.”
“So what are you going to do now?” Dev asks, tapping the top of my door with the side of his forefinger.
“I’m going to go home and see what I can do to get my home office set up for this freelance work. I’ll probably go online and check some other sites too, to see if I can find some more stuff to do.”
“Dating sites?”
My face goes warm. “No, not dating sites. Freelance sites.”
“You should maybe go on that dating site,” he says, not looking at me. “You shouldn’t stay in your house every night and just watch television alone.”
My heart suddenly feels like it’s made of lead. Here I was thinking he was worth taking a risk for, and now he’s trying to get me to date other guys? How could I possibly have read that so wrong?
“What makes you think I do that?” I ask, offended at the vision he’s created in my own head of me, sitting on my couch, alone in my family room being a grade-A lame-o.
“It was you who told me you do that. Besides, I saw you on that dating website. You were just at the beginning part of the process. You haven’t even looked for a date yet, have you?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Have you?”
He’s looking at me finally, shrugging. “Not exactly.”
“Well, if I should look for dates, then you should too.”
This is a ridiculous conversation. I’d really like to go on a date with him, but I’m not going to say that now.
“I’ll do it if you’ll do it,” he says.
“Fine.” I can go out with another guy. Maybe I’ll find one cuter than he is, even. Taller, too.
“How about if we do our dinner together,” he pauses, “you know . . . the dinner that you’re paying for, and we’ll discuss our dating strategy going forward?”
Do I want to speed off in a huff, burning rubber and leaving behind the acrid stench of tires and hurt feelings? Of course I do. I’m only human, after all, and it’s been a really long time since I’ve spent any time with a cool guy, and I don’t own a dildo. Yet. And of course, I’m more than a tiny bit sad that Dev is asking me to help him find the woman of his dreams, especially after it seemed like he was sending me signals telling me he was interested in dating me himself.
Then it hits me: Maybe he’s a player. Maybe I’ve completely misread every single thing about him because I have no idea how to play these games.
I lift my chin. “Okay. I think I could do that.”
“When?” he asks.
“How about Friday? I might be able to convince May to come over and watch the kids for a couple hours.”
“Okay. I’ll ask my mom if she can watch my son. You ask May, and let me know what she says. If the babysitting is a go, I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
“Do you know where you want to go? I need to know what I should wear.”
He winks. “I’ll let you know.” He leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, again before I even realize what’s happening. The idea that he’s a player comes once more. This definitely feels like a game of some kind, but at the same time it doesn’t feel like he’s doing it to mess with me in a mean way. Not after the way he was with Sammy. A real player wouldn’t bother, right? I’m so confused. I watch him walk to the warehouse door and punch in the code to enter.
The door starts to open, and he looks back at me, waving. “See you soon.”
I wave back. “Yep. See you soon.” I climb into the car and put my seatbelt on. I should be exhausted; it’s been a long day. But I feel as light as air.