Page 7 of Just Ten Seconds

“There’s a song called ‘Sex Is In The Heel.’ ”

He nods in understanding, and those damn dimples reappear. “Got it. No Kinky Boots. Might have to save that for adult company.”

My cheeks flush. I lower my head toward the forms he’s filling out and realize I left a spot blank.

“How old is she?” I ask, pointing to the section on the form that asks for her age. “I couldn’t put down her birthday.”

“Eight. Some days, I feel like she’s eighteen, and other times—like today—she might as well be my baby again.”

His tone of endearment sends a warmth to my belly I wasn’t prepared for.

“She’s lucky to have you.”

“And you.” He rests his long fingers on mine, and I freeze. “I panicked, and a complete stranger stepped in. Thank you.”

My eyes fall to where his very warm skin lies against my own. I don’t move as his hand grazes ever so slowly—not caressing, but in a kind, appreciative way.

I look up at him through hooded lashes and find him staring at me. He’s looking at me like I’m someone worthy. A hero, if you will. The feeling thaws my heart, and I hate that it somehow validates me. That, for the first time in a long time, I feel good about myself.

I want to look away.

I should look away.

But I can’t.

It’s his eyes. When I look in them, I see the same loss I see when I stare at my own reflection in the mirror. It makes me wonder if we share a common bond. Yes, even I hear the lunacy of my thoughts.

I move my hand and inch my body away from him. “You’re welcome.”

If I’ve offended him in any way, he doesn’t show it. He goes back to filling out the forms. His teeth graze his lip as he concentrates on the medical history, checking boxes and writing down information.

He looks back toward the door that leads to the exam room and then back at the forms. His foot taps nervously, and his free hand runs through his hair.

When he looks back at the door a third time, I can see he’s becoming distracted.

“You can fill these out in the room,” I suggest.

He doesn’t wait another second before turning and heading through the door to be with his daughter.

I spin around and hunch down toward the counter with my head in my hands and bang not so lightly. It’s been three years since a man looked at me the way Dean just did. It wasn’t sexual, I don’t think. No, it was almost complimentary.

Yet why do I feel a buzz in my fingertips?

I straighten my arms and stretch, pushing my body away from the counter.

Part of me wants to wait for them. I could. My car is parked outside. They were on their bikes with no other way to get home. Amanda might still be in pain, and Dean will need help getting her back. He might even need to stop at the pharmacy to get some pain medication. If they were my family, I’d wait here and then drive them home, and … no, they can take an Uber.

I look at my watch and see I’ve been here longer than I should have. This could take a while, and I have to get back to work. Nick can’t be waiting tables when he needs to be in the kitchen, and Jackie could probably use a hand.

Plus, Dean and Amanda aren’t mine. Not my family, not even my friends. Just complete strangers who I did a kind act for on a Friday afternoon.

I take a long, heavy breath and flip over one of the medical forms to a blank side.

Dean,

I have to get back to work. I’ll keep your bikes safe until you can get them.

Feel better, Amanda. A little ice cream and a movie is the best medicine.