Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Shelby
“Can we have dessert after?” Riley pleads, skipping beside her dad as we follow the hostess.
Doc makes a disgruntled sound. “Depends. How much cake did you have earlier?” he asks, turning to me.
Holding my thumb and forefinger about an inch apart, I answer, “Only a little.”
Stopping beside the table, Riley faces us, and holding up her hand, she copies my action.
“Really?” her dad asks, his tone skeptical.
Silent, he arches a brow, looking first at me and then at his daughter. Slowly, Riley’s thumb and finger move farther and farther apart.
Laughing, I cover her hand with mine. “Okay, okay. We ate like a quarter of my birthday cake,” I confess.
Placing my hand on top of her head, I spin Riley to face the table and pick her up under her arms. “We’re going to have to work on you resisting interrogation,” I mutter, sitting her on the chair her dad has pulled out.
“Baby, why don’t we lie?” Doc asks Riley, tucking her chair in closer to the table.
“Because it’s rude,” she answers, swinging her legs.
“So next time I feed her cake for dinner, I should keep it to myself?” I sass.
My body heats when his palm finds the curve of my back.
“Lying by omission is still a lie.”
I frown at his pained tone.
“Who are you lying to?” I whisper as I take my seat.
Leo blinks down at me. “Someone who means the world to me, but sometimes it’s better than the truth.”
I gasp when he places a light kiss on my forehead. Doc freezes for a second before straightening, as if he had done it without thinking. Rounding the table, he kisses the top of Riley’s head and takes his own seat.
Seeing the server approach, Leo clears his throat. “What would you ladies like?”
“Spaghetti meatballs, please,” Riley rushes.
Biting my lip, I try not to smile at the way she says spaghetti. Why is this girl so fucking cute?
“Me too, please.”
“Make that three. Thank you,” he orders, closing his menu and handing it to the server. “Would you like wine?” He turns to me.
“No, thank you.”
“Three waters, please.”
“Great. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
“When Riley was younger, she struggled to say spaghetti. After a while, ‘speti’ kind of stuck,” Leonard explains.
The loving look he gives his daughter melts my heart.
“She’s perfect,” I say, repeating my words from earlier.
“She is,” he agrees. Our gaze meets while the warmth of his hand settles on top of mine. I curse my heated cheeks and turn toward Riley, but not before catching sight of Doc’s smirk.
Maybe this isn’t one-sided after all.