On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [62]
Frankie was asking the kid, but he shifted his eyes up to Devon and Lilah, who looked like they could use some serious alone time.
Devon, interestingly, appeared to pass the question on to Lilah, who flushed and said, “We don’t want to get in the way, but well, yes, okay, thanks, Frankie, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Frankie pulled out his best gallantry before offering his hand to the kid. “My name’s Frankie.”
“Tucker,” the kid said, almost too quiet to hear. Nothing much like his da, as far as Frankie could tell. Less of a shouter, anyway. They shook on it.
Frankie stood up and prepared to lead the way into the restaurant, but a small hand on his arm stopped him. He looked down into Lilah’s serious green eyes.
“No knives,” she said firmly. “No cussing, no fire, and no letting him out of your sight. I learned that one the hard way, right, Tuck?”
Surprisingly, the kid grinned. It was shy and a little gaptoothed, but there was a spark of mischief there just waiting to be fanned into flame. Frankie put on the most responsible, upstanding expression he could manage and nodded. “No worries. There’ll be no cocking about, I promise.”
Her eyes grew big as Frankie smirked and whisked the kid into the kitchen.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Operation Fatherhood wasn’t proceeding exactly according to plan. Lilah had hoped Devon would drop everything the moment he saw Tucker and, well, do what Frankie had done—offer to show him around the kitchen, interact with him, and generally bond and get to know each other.
Instead, Tucker was inside being corrupted in the good-Lord-only-knew what horrible ways by the crazy sous chef while Lilah was stuck out here in a dank, smelly alley, about to have to justify herself to her new employer.
“We picked up my clothes and things from Grant’s apartment, but the stores aren’t open yet to go shopping for Tuck’s things, so I brought him by here to, you know, say hi.”
“Hi,” Devon said, staring down at her.
“Hi.” Lilah waved back weakly.
“So. You thought you’d come hang out at the restaurant until the shops are open?”
Seizing on the excuse, Lilah said, “Yes! Only for a little while. I hope that’s okay.”
Devon looked at the door into the kitchen. “It’s fine. Here, take this credit card for the shopping trip.”
“Really? I was just going to keep receipts and have you pay me back later,” Lilah said, uncomfortable with the shiny silver of the platinum card.
“I insist. This will make it easier for everyone. Buy him whatever he needs.” Devon appeared to struggle for a moment, then added, “And if there’s anything he seems to want, like a toy or a game or something . . .”
Lilah’s heart swelled. Maybe Operation Fatherhood was on the right track after all. “I’ll let him pick one toy, as a gift from you,” she promised.
Rather than looking pleased, however, Devon scrubbed a weary hand across his face. “A gift. Well, at least it’ll be familiar territory,” he muttered.
“What?”
His jaw tightened convulsively as if he were surprised she’d heard. Still, he answered her. “Tucker’s used to getting gifts from me. It’s been our main form of communication since he was born.”
Lilah was conscious of an immediate need to pry. “Oh?” she probed delicately.
“Haven’t missed a birthday yet,” Devon said with a derisive lip curl. “Think that qualifies me as a candidate for Father of the Year?”
“I think it’s always a good thing to let those we love know we remember them on the anniversary of their birth.”
Devon snorted. “Right. And dropping a couple of C-notes every March eighteenth makes up for never seeing or talking to the kid the rest of the year.”
The bitterness in his tone stung like a shot of cayenne pepper in the eye. “I didn’t say that.”
“Christ, Lilah.” He sounded angry, but she couldn’t tell if his rage was directed at her, or himself, or someone else altogether. “What