Chapter 40

Present

"Okay," Grace said with a sigh, sitting down on a low wall as we reached the third green. "I'm done with these." I would have been worried that she was referring to mini golf and the date in general if she hadn't immediately removed her heels and thrust them in my direction. "I still have the disadvantage of the tight skirt to contend with, but at least I can stand on flat feet instead of teetering on these torture devices."

"You don't like heels?" I questioned, automatically accepting the shoes. Maybe it was my Dad instincts from carrying around Kenzie's stuff all these years, or maybe I was just totally enamoured with the woman sitting before me and being chosen to hold her shoes felt like an honour. Or maybe she'd just caught me off guard. Probably, it was a combination of all three.

"I love heels," she assured me. "They make me feel sexy and powerful, but they're a literal pain in the foot when I'm not traversing over astroturf and sand traps. So, I'm taking them off, and you have to hold them for the rest of the evening. Even when taking your shots."

I adjusted my hold so that both the stick heels were gripped in one hand. "This is my punishment for not warning you about what we're doing, isn't it?" I asked, experimenting with holding the golf club as I eyed the way she was rubbing her feet. Her fingernails were always painted a neutral kind of rosy pink colour; elegant, but unobtrusive. Her toes, on the other hand, were a deep burgundy that matched the colour of her lipstick. It was sexy as hell. Like a little hidden secret.

Her eyes moved from her feet to my face, gazing up at me through her lashes. "Punishment is such a harsh word," she pouted. "Think of it as a sort of natural consequence."

Gods, this woman! It seemed like every time she'd reached peak sexy she turned it up another notch. And we hadn't even breeched bedroom topics yet! "Okay, deal," I agreed. "Maybe it'll teach me to think more about your comfort in the future."

The smile that curved on her lips was a mixture of approval and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on, but it was so compelling that I didn't even care. I was so used to knowing exactly what a woman was thinking when we were on a date that this small mystery was refreshing. Grace was refreshing. I would happily spend a lifetime unravelling her intrigues if she would keep smiling at me like that.

"We'll see," she said, standing again and picking up her ball and club. She sashayed over to the green and plopped the ball down in the starting zone, her eyes still locked on me. "A better consequence would have been to make you wear the heels, but unfortunately I don't think they're your size," she said nodding her head at my size eleven loafers. "And I these are a favourite pair, so I'm not willing to sacrifice them."

"I could have a pair of heels in my size delivered here in twenty minutes or less if you'd like to exact your revenge properly," I offered, thinking of the drag outfits still hanging in Ella's master closet from that one undercover job we did a few years ago. "But I have to warn you, once you get a glimpse of these legs in heels…" I swept my hand down my leg in an exaggerated fashion. "You'll be under my spell, helpless to refuse a second date with me."

She laughed and shook her head. "How do you have such ready access to heels in men's sizes?" she questioned leaning heavily on her club allowing me a nice view of her cleavage. I didn't miss the way her curious gaze roved over my pants, as is she were trying to picture what my legs looked like when they weren't shrouded in material. I had to do some quick thinking to prevent an embarrassing bulge from making an appearance.

"Work," I said simply.

Her eyes shot up to my face, probably to see if I was kidding. (I wasn't). And when she saw how serious I was, her brow furrowed slightly. "I thought you said you worked for your cousin's security company," she pointed out, straightening from the putter.

I nodded. "I do."

"And that you mostly do bond enforcement and, like, call outs to businesses when they've had a break in and stuff?"

More nodding on my part. She had definitely listened when I explained about what I do for a living.

She crossed her arms over her chest, the confusion clear in her expression now as she stared at me. "Then where do the heels come in?"

I couldn't help it. I laughed. "My cousin's business is very diverse in it's dealings," I explained. "Sometimes that requires us to be a little creative about achieving the end goal. A few years ago we were working a contract for the government, tracking down a drug cartel that had been using the drag scene as a cover. We had to get close enough to them to track, so a few of us had to go undercover as drag queens."

"And you were one of those few?" she asked, confusion turning to intrigue.

"I have the best legs in Rangeman aside from Steph," I explained nonchalantly, striking a pose that did nothing for my claim in the trousers I had on. "The trouble was in finding at least two more men that could convincingly pull off the looks we needed to go for."

Grace gave me a bemused smile. "What was your drag queen name?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow that sent electricity surging through my body.

I gave her my best sultry look, grazing the back of hand under my chin as I let my drag persona take over control of my body, pouring my body into those sensual shapes I'd practiced so well. "Mistress Galore, darling," I introduced. "And your pleasure is all mine."

Fanning herself with her hand, she shook her head, quite possibly in awe of my transformation – and that was without hair, makeup and padding. "I take it Mistress Galore knows how to have a good time," she said, sliding her hand down the shaft of the golf club as she refocused on lining up her shot. It was clearly an absentminded gesture, but it was putting thoughts in my head that were rather inappropriate to follow through with in a mini golf park. Not to mention the fact that I'd promised myself I'd take things slow with Grace. I'd never reacted to another woman the way I reacted to just being in the same air space as her. My gut told me that was special, and that I couldn't screw it up no matter what. My heart wanted her in my life long-term, which was a new and thrilling feeling for me, so I had to do everything in my power to preserve it.

Just as I was about to reply, my phone rang in my pocket. I let out a quiet curse at whoever had the gall to interrupt my evening and was planning on simply turning the phone off when I took note of Bobby's name on the screen and worry sliced through both the mood that had been brewing between Grace and me, and my anger at the phone call. Bobby was looking after Kenzie. He knew I was on a date. And he knew how important this date was to me. He wouldn't call unless something was wrong.

"It's Bobby," I said, glancing over at Grace as she straightened from her poised position. Her face had straightened into something akin to worry as well. "I have to take it. He's got Kenzie tonight."

"Of course," she agreed, making a show of relaxing her shoulders and stepping back from the ball, still unmoved from where she'd dropped it several minutes ago. Her posture was still tense, and there was still something unsettled in her eyes, but she didn't seem to be annoyed by the interruption, so I just nodded my appreciation and hit accept on the call, turning to face the copse of trees.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, forgoing greetings to get straight to the point. I needed to know that my little girl was all right before I could entertain any of the usual pleasantries.

"We're just calling to say good night," Bobby said in a carefully chosen tone that left no question as to Kenzie's state of physical wellbeing. "I think she's a little nervous about sleeping here for the first time, so I suggested we call you. Hope that's okay."

A breath I hadn't realised I was holding fell from my lips, my shoulders sagging as the weight of that worry fell away. "It's fine," I assured him. "Whatever she needs. You know that."

"I'll put her on."

There were some scuffling noises as Bobby handed the phone over to Kenzie, and then her small, sweet voice filled my ear, sloughing off any residual tension I might have been holding on to. "Hi, Daddy," she greeted.

"Hey, Muffin-Head," I returned, tipping my head back a little as a soft smile warmed what was probably an extra blank expression on my face. "You having a good time with Uncle Bobby?"

"Uh huh," she confirmed quietly. "We made unicorn pizza for dinner and a ice cream sundae for dessert."

I had no idea what a unicorn pizza entailed, but there would no doubt be photos for me to peruse tomorrow that would illuminate the concept. "Yummy," I said, infusing as much enthusiasm as I could into my voice as I could. She needed this positive interaction probably about as much as I'd needed for Bobby to confirm that she was okay when I first answered the call. If I could get her to relax enough to laugh, I knew she'd be okay for the rest of the night, but for now, she just needed to hear my voice. "What flavour?" I asked.

"Chocolate!" she exclaimed, and I pictured her throwing her free hand in the air as she added needlessly, "My favourite!"

My smile widened. I'm pretty sure she got her love of chocolate from Steph. That was possible, right? "And what did Uncle Bobby have?"

"He had chocolate, too," she proclaimed. "We shared. Uncle Bobby doesn't hog the bowl like you do, Daddy. He leaves it in the middle so we can both reach."

Ahh, a roasting from my five-year-old. My smile grew into a grin. "I can't help it!" I defended myself. "I just love ice cream soooo much!"

"But you need to share, Daddy," she insisted, probably frowning and crossing her little arms.

"Hmm," I hummed, plucking at the leaves in front of me. "I'll try harder next time. How does that sound?"

"Okay," she conceded in a tone that was usually accompanied by narrowed, suspicious eyes and a sneaky little smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

The silence that followed, although brief, was suffused with just hint of the apprehension I'd sensed when she first spoke. It was less now, but it was still there. I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and squeeze any lingering anxiety she might have out of her body, wiggling her back and forth until she giggled like crazy and demanded to be let down. But I couldn't. My arms didn't reach that far, so I'd have to settle for reassuring her with my words instead.

"What are you up to now?" I asked, deliberately bringing her attention to the thing that was causing her to feel uneasy. If I could make it feel more like our nightly routine, then maybe that would help her relax. Normalise the experience a little.

Kenzie sighed. "It's bedtime."

"And what do you need to do before you go to bed?" I asked in the same tone I used every night around this time.

"Teeeeth," she replied, dragging out the word dutifully.

"Don't forget the back ones," I reminded.

"I won't," she said.

"And make sure Uncle Bobby brushes his, too," I instructed. "Give him a score out of ten for his technique for me. Does he use up-and-downs? Back-and-forths? Round-and-rounds? I want a full report when I pick you up tomorrow."

She giggled a little, thank god, and accepted the task with more confidence than she'd had at the beginning of the phone call. "Okay!"

"I love you, McKenzie," I told her earnestly.

"I love you more," she challenged.

"I love you most," I rebutted. "I'll see you in the morning, okay? I'll come over early and we can make Uncle Bobby cook us eggs his famous omelette for breakfast, yeah?"

She was back to the vivacious little girl I knew and loved, now, and I could hear her dancing with joy. "Yeah!" she agreed. "Good night, Daddy."

"Good night, Muffin-Head."

Just before we hung up, I heard Bobby call out from nearby, "G'night, Dad! See you in the morning!" And I found myself shaking my head as I returned the phone to my pocket and turned to face Grace who was now sitting on the low rock wall once more.

"Sorry about that," I apologised, seeing that she had her phone out, apparently needing to kill time while I was preoccupied.

Grace just shrugged, dropping her phone into her purse and getting to her feet. "All good," she assured me. "Is everything okay with Kenzie?"

I nodded, taking her bag from her so that she didn't have to worry about dropping it during her turn on the green as she stepped back over to her ball. "Just a case of nerves. She's never slept at Bobby's place before," I explained. "Usually the babysitter comes to her, but she's growing up, so we thought it would be a fun new experience for her. Bobby is her favourite uncle, though, so I'm a little surprised that she had this reaction."

Grace looked up from lining up her shot but didn't change her stance. "Was she okay when you dropped her off?"

That was all it took. One small, seemingly insignificant question, and the whole puzzle fell into place. It was so obvious that I wondered how I'd missed it. "Tank dropped her off," I said, and seeing that my explanation did nothing to answer her question I went on, "He picked her up from the library for a princess movie afternoon because he wasn't able to babysit her tonight, and he dropped her at Bobby's on his way to a family dinner. I haven't seen Kenzie since just before lunch."

Understanding bloomed behind Grace's eyes and she gave a little nod. "You two are really close, she must have been missing you."

"Exactly," I agreed. "And anxious because she'd been passed around a bit. She was already a little more sensitive than usual this morning," I added as the thoughts occurred to me. Kenzie's questions about me wishing her mother was still alive so I didn't have to read with her all the time may well have been just as veiled as my questions about Grace not saying yes to helping me at hair class the other night. I'd done my best to make sure she knew that I cherished every moment I had with her, but that didn't make her fears disappear, just as my nerves hadn't truly vanished even with Kenzie's assurance that Grace always said yes to me.

I expected Grace to accept my explanation and play on, or make a comment to further the conversation, but instead I found myself locked in her warm and gentle expression as she stared at me from her slightly bent, ready-to-putt posture. There were thoughts swirling through her head, just behind her eyes that I wanted to get a closer look at.

"What?" I asked, ever so eloquently, as her gaze seemed strip away some of the protective layers I'd slathered on like thick sunscreen over the years.

Her lips kicked up a little more at the corners. "You're a really good dad."

"Is that something you find compellingly attractive?" I asked, because apparently, I didn't know how to take such a sincere compliment seriously. It made my heart swell with an almost uncomfortable amount of pride. Mama had told me I was a good dad dozens of times over the years, Dad too, and even some of the guys let me know I was doing a good job with raising Kenzie from time to time. But it felt different coming from Grace. And like always happened when I was slightly uncomfortable with a situation, I reverted to Ladies'-Man-Les-style deflections.

Thankfully, Grace laughed, finding amusement in my conversation pivot. "You're also incorrigible," she pointed out, turning her gaze down to the ball and club that had been waiting so patiently for her to take a swing for ages now. She pulled back the putter, glanced at the target hole and just before she swung, I leaned in so our faces were no more than six inches apart, a sly grin stealing across my face.

"That wasn't a no," I said.

She held my gaze for a moment, her expression just as sly. "You're right," she agreed. "It wasn't."

*o*

"Okay, okay, okay," I said, flapping my hand at her to get her to stop her relentless teasing as I pulled up to a red light on the way home. The date, by all accounts, had been a success. She'd thrashed me in mini golf, we'd shared some chilli cheese fries for dinner and the conversation and flirting had been rampant the entire time. As we'd stood in line for ice-cream she'd started asking me question after question, barely giving me enough time to answer before another one was spilling from her lips. They were deliciously mundane, and I found myself delighting in answering them, letting her learn more about me. And when she'd paused just a second too long before asking yet another question, I'd taken the opportunity to jump in with some of my own. Turnabout, as they say, is fair play, and I was dying to know the kinds of things about her that she wanted to know about me.

So had begun a kind of rapid-fire, back and forth, get-to-know-you game that had continued through the consumption of our ice-creams and into the car when the park had closed and we'd had to move on.

"My turn," I announced over top of her giggling. "I'm gonna guess that your favourite colour is…" I glanced over at her beaming face, lit up like a kid on Christmas. Her lipstick had worn off hours ago, but she hadn't bothered to touch it up when she disappeared to the ladies' room earlier. I was hoping it was because she felt comfortable enough to be herself around me, and not just because she hadn't brought the lipstick with her. "Burgundy."

"Correct," she confirmed, seeming a little surprised, but she shook it off easily. "What's yours?"

"Green," I said easily.

Her lightly teasing laughter burbled up again. "Like your eyes," she mocked. "Interesting."

"Like McKenzie's eyes, actually," I defended, but it was weak, and we both knew it.

Her eyes narrowed, but the grin remained. "How long has it been your favourite colour?" she queried.

I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that it had been my favourite colour for as long as I could remember, so I very maturely changed ignored her question in favour of asking one of my own. "Worst subject in school?"

"Oh-ho-ho," she laughed as the light turned green and I hit the accelerator. "Nice evasion tactics, Lester. Is that how they teach you to do it in the special forces?"

Unable to help myself, I laughed along with her. "Yes," I said defiantly. "Yes, it is. As you can see, I was top of my class in question evasion."

"Clearly," she agreed sarcastically.

"So, worst subject?" I prompted.

She took a moment to think about it, uncrossing and crossing her legs in a way that was very distracting for me. "Well, the cliché answer would be math," she began slowly, tipping her head back to lean against the head rest as a yawn suddenly stole over her. "And I'm not great at it, but I think my worst subject was actually history."

"What about history made it your worst subject?" I enquired, curiosity piqued thanks to the deviation from the usual response.

A lazy chuckle escaped her, and I stole another glance to find that she'd let her eyes drift closed. "I'm terrible at remembering dates," she said.

"Oh dear," I replied with mock concern. "Will you be able to remember this one? Should I make a video to remind you of our time together and our budding relationship like on 50 First Dates?"

I timed yet another glance when our pause at a stop sign at the end of her street and was rewarded with a single cracked eye sending me a deadpan glare. "Har. Har. Har."

I just grinned, pleased with myself and how easy it was to be around Grace. There was absolutely no way I'd be able to forget this date, even if I were drugged and my memory was wiped. I was confident that even if I couldn't remember my own name, I'd be able to recall the sense of rightness that had filled the evening. I held that glaring eye for a long moment until lit drifted shut again, trying to think of another question to keep the flow going, but before I'd strung together two words, Grace's quiet voice filled the car and my chest with hope.

"I'm pretty sure I'll remember this one," she murmured.

And, because it was so heartfelt, and my mature brain didn't know what to do with it, Ladies' Man Les took control of my mouth and pumped the teasing sarcasm pedal. "Pretty sure?" I found myself asking as I pulled to the curb in front of her apartment building. "Well, that sounds like a ringing endorsement."

"Oh, it is," Grace said, matching my tone with a short nod and a soft smile, her eyes popping open to meet mine.

Now was my chance. I'd been nudging her for a second date almost since the moment she slid into the passenger seat at the start of the evening. If she'd had as good a time as I thought she'd had, despite my thoughtlessness about her attire, then there was no good reason she could turn me down, right? "So, can we do this again sometime?" I asked.

"I think I'd like that," she agreed, setting off a million and one little celebrations all throughout my body. My cells were dancing like it was Friday night at the clubs all over again. "But!" she added, a record scratch through the thumping music in my heart.

"Here we go," I said in a light tone that I definitely didn't feel right that second.

"I get to pick where we go next time," she announced, leaning forward to pluck her shoes up from the footwell where she'd tossed them upon climbing into the car to come home.

Relief rushed through me. Mission accomplished. "Deal," I said. "I'm at your mercy."