He’s single father. A widower, to be exact. But that’s not the story here.
He waits tables for a living. And on his off-days, he works at another restaurant.
Sometimes, he works with his brother’s power-washing business for extra cash. He does handyman work, and installs home sound systems. He is a busy man.
He does it for his kids.
The money goes out the window as fast as it comes. And he’s away a lot.
His children are used to fending for themselves. They’re used to preparing their own suppers, watching television alone, and tucking themselves in.
But not since she started coming around.
Let me back up.
Nine months ago, he met her. She’s a receptionist at a doctor’s office. She was at his restaurant for her coworker’s birthday party.
He saw her and couldn’t stop looking at her.
By the end of the night, his friends in the kitchen knew he was smitten. They teased him. “Go talk to her,” they said, shoving him.
But, confidence doesn’t exactly grow on trees, and our Lone Ranger has been out of the saddle since high school.
know how to approach her. He was—according to his coworkers—a big, fat, hairy chicken. So, without his permission, one of the waitresses spoke for him.
“See that guy over there?” the waitress whispered into the receptionist’s ear. “He’s the best guy you’ll ever meet. He likes you, but he’s too scaredy-cat to talk to you.”
But that’s how it started.
A little bout her: she was married once. The doctor told her she couldn’t have kids. It broke her heart, all she’s ever wanted were children.
She likes long walks on the beach, Mexican food, Trisha Yearwood albums, chocolate ice cream, and any book that wasn’t written by Danielle Steel.
They went on a first date. It lasted for sixteen hours. But they darkened no bedrooms, rustled no sheets.…