Dating a Single Dad. Kris Fletcher

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      And this conversation was a great reminder of another reason why he had left: to be his own boss. To not have his family telling him what to do, in one form or another, 24/7.

      “No, Mom. Just...no.”

      She narrowed her eyes at him before smacking his feet. “Move your legs.”

      He did it on autopilot, realized how easily he’d slipped, and groaned. Lucky for him there was no punishment on the horizon. Just the squeak of the dryer door as she pulled it open and pulled out a clean undershirt.

      “Hank...” She folded the shirt in half, her actions automatic after decades of male laundry. “I know you’re reluctant to think about trying again, but life is hard enough as it is, especially when you’re a parent. Millie is going to take more from you than you realize. Things are easier when you don’t have to go through everything by yourself. And no, I’m not talking about the chores, okay? I’m talking about having someone in your corner. Someone to hold you up. Everyone deserves that, Hank. Even people who had a lousy marriage the first time around. Maybe even more so.”

      Hell and damnation, how was he supposed to respond to that? Janice North didn’t put her heart on the line very often. For her to talk to him so openly, so honestly...she really must be worried.

      “Okay, Ma. Total truth here. I wouldn’t mind finding someone someday, maybe even get married again. But it has to be on my terms. And my terms include not chasing someone who’s only here for a few months.”

      She tossed the shirt into the hamper and grabbed a fresh one. “You can’t let that stop you. I saw the way you looked at her during the meeting today.”

      Someday, he would learn. “Yes. I like Brynn. The whole, oh, thirty minutes of interaction I’ve had with her over the past three days have all been pleasant. But as you said yourself, Millie likes her.”

      “And that’s bad?”

      “Yeah, it is. Mills already asked me when she could get her ears pierced just like Brynn. She’s going to have a hard enough time saying goodbye when the time comes. Can you imagine if she saw me going out with Brynn? Hell, she had me married off to her friend Tish’s mom a dozen times before they moved. One dinner with Brynn, and Millie would be planning the wedding. I’m not gonna do that to her.”

      There. She couldn’t argue with that one.

      For a moment, it looked like he had won. She folded the shirt silently, let it drop into the hamper, grabbed a handful of socks and spread them across the top of the washer. With expert speed, she began matching them.

      “All right, then,” she said at last. “Forget Brynn. But you need to make an effort, Hank. It’s past time.” She swept the paired socks into the hamper and picked up two singletons, one pink and one brown, dangling them in his face. “Because if you don’t wake up and get moving, my boy, this is how you and Millie are going to end up.”

      * * *

      ON FRIDAY NIGHT, Hank pulled into the driveway leading to the cabins, killed the engine and tried to muster up the energy to get out of the truck and walk into the house. When he picked Millie up from after-school care she had announced that her backpack wouldn’t zip anymore, her shoes were too tight and she needed a white T-shirt for tie-dye day on Monday. His choice had been to try to cram the store run into an already packed weekend, or get it out of the way immediately. He’d opted for door number two. Not a bad choice, but now it was dinnertime, they were both tired and grumpy and he’d forgotten to pull something out of the freezer that morning.

      Great. Another Friday night of Kraft Dinner and ketchup with a side of guilt.

      Compounding his frustration was the fact that, while Millie was more than happy to tell him about the items she needed, she had spent the entire shopping trip tap-dancing around any discussion of school itself. He knew better than to ask a simple What did you do today? He drew instead on his mother’s ancient lines: Did you read any good books? Who did you play with at recess? What did you draw in art?

      Nothing.

      Well, not a total nothing. She gave an animated reenactment of Curious George’s antics. But all other questions were met with shrugs, silence or sudden declarations that she wanted a telescope.

      His mother said that Millie had too many other interests to think about school when she wasn’t there. Her report cards said she was attentive and contributed to classroom discussions. But his gut told him something was wrong.

      “Hey, Mills. I was thinking—do you want to have a friend over this weekend?” Maybe she was just lonely, what with her best friend moving away. Maybe he could juggle the jobs, let Millie have an hour or two, maybe do some eavesdropping in case she let something slip with a classmate. “We could get a pizza and you could invite—I don’t know. Who do you like to play—”

      “Daddy! Is there another car at Brynn’s place?”

      He peered through the dying bits of daylight, unsure if this was a true question or an attempt at distraction. But sure enough, there was a second shape in front of the Wolfe cabin.

      “Guess she has company. But about this week—”

      “Oh! Maybe it’s Casey! She told me Casey was coming!”

      “Who is Casey, and when were you talking to Brynn about him? Her? Whatever.” More important, might this Casey be a potential playmate?

      “You know. Casey is her little boy. Not her little boy, but her... What’s that word? Not like uncle, or cousin, but...”

      “Nephew?”

      “Yes! That’s it! He’s her nephew. And he lives at a camp but he likes to play with her, and she was going to see him a whole lot while she’s living here, because the camp is... I don’t remember. Somewhere close.”

      “And when did you get all this information?”

      But his words were lost in a burst of movement as Millie opened her door, scrambled out of the truck and took off.

      “Brynn!” She raced down the path between the trees. “Hey, Brynn! Can I come see Casey, please?”

      “Millie,” he called helplessly. So much for that attempt at conversation. With a curse he slammed his way out of the truck and followed his daughter.

      Millie barely avoided smacking into the man walking away from the cabin. “Whoa, kiddo.” The man laughed and stepped off the path. “Careful. You don’t want to slip.”

      Millie nodded and scooted around him, aiming for Brynn, who was standing in the doorway with a kid in her arms. Millie crashed into her legs, causing Brynn to stoop and hug Millie to her. Hank groaned. He was never going to get her home now.

      The man who had almost been Millie’s punching bag caught Hank’s eye. “Let me guess. That’s Millie, and you’re Hank.” He extended his hand. “Sam Catalano, Brynn’s brother. Good to meet you.”

      Hank nodded and stuck out his hand, wishing he’d thought to pull on his gloves. His hands were probably like ice. Of course, if this guy was the hockey player, he was probably used to that. “Sorry about my daughter’s manners. She’s on a quest to set a new speed record from my place to here.”

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