The phone rings just as I’m about to get up from my desk, and I sigh, my shoulders sore and my brain frazzled.

“Samantha Groff, National Parks, how can I help you?” I set my overflowing purse, which more resembles an entire country, on the floor next to me.

It’s been a trying, but rewarding, Friday, and all I want to do is get out of here.

“Hi, Samantha, it’s Elvin. I just wanted to say thank you for helping with the situation before. I know we were probably clipped with you, but I just wanted to let you know how crucial your help was at the time.”

Internally I melt, sometimes needing to hear how good I am at my job. Because I know it, I’m damn good. But in the heat of the moment during the day, with all of the crisis that falls across my desk, I’m rarely thanked. To them, I’m just management, sitting in some corporate office dictating policy and procedure. But some of them know that I’ve been in the field, that I could handle these tasks with my bare hands if I were left to it.

“Well, that’s very nice of you, Elvin, and I’m just doing my job. Just … next time you have a bunch of wild animals break loose, teach your rangers the proper technique to tangle them back up.” I laugh, signaling my joke.

But really, I don’t know why it got that out of hand that they had to call me in. Men, I swear.

“Will do, you have a great weekend now.”

I wish him the same and hang up, practically sprinting from the office before I can get pulled back into one more conversation. In the parking lot, Jenna waves as she gets into her Honda truck, and I wave back at my new friend. Over the past week or so, we’ve eaten together every day, and she’s given me some tips about life in the national office. There is more red tape, also known as bullshit, to deal with. People who I should avoid, and those who I should press my lips against their ass. She’s been a good ally, and has rather funny anecdotes to get me through the day sometimes.

I’m just about to start the engine to my little red Camry when my phone pings with a text message. Before Lennon, which I refer to as BL because my life changed so much after becoming a parent, I would have checked it while driving. But I’m trying to set a good example, blah blah, and so I put the keys down and pick up the phone before venturing out onto the road.

I sigh and rest my head back against the seat. You’ve got to be kidding me. Almost a month has gone by since we left Seattle, and I’ve barely heard from him. And now, now that we’re finally getting settled, he wants to jostle Lennon with a visit when I know he won’t stay.

I told him when I left, our argument awkward and not heated like it should have been for a woman and man who were splitting up after eight years, that I would never keep him from his daughter. And I meant it.

But I also knew Derek, and I knew that this idea was probably spur of the moment, and would pass within the hour.

Jesus, help me. I hadn’t seen my bearded, mountain man of an ex in almost a month, and surprisingly, I hadn’t been hurting all that much. Our relationship had gone downhill after Lennon was born. And by downhill, I meant that Derek just seemed to vanish. It was like his inability to be a good father completely turned me off to him as a boyfriend.

Sure enough, three minutes later and still no response. Not even any little bubbles indicating that he was typing, or thinking of a plan. I knew right then that he wasn’t serious about flying across the country to see his daughter. And while that was sad, I was also kind of selfishly happy.

Buckling my seatbelt and heading for the highway home, I was surprised when my cell began to ring through the Bluetooth. With the delay of the car, stupid technology, I wasn’t able to read the name who was calling on the dashboard, and I just picked it up thinking it was either my mom. Or less likely, Derek, wanting to talk about a visit.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Samantha, it’s Jake. How was your week?”

Instantly my heart drops and beads of sweat gather at the back of my neck, and I feel like I should pull over to the side of the road because no way can I have this conversation while driving.

But I’m in bumper to bumper and there is no way I can leave the babysitter with Lennon any longer. My daughter might have eaten her whole as it is.

“Ja … Jake, nice to hear from you.” Was it? Since I’d given him my number, I’d thought about him calling until I was shaking my legs in bed like a fifteen-year-old girl. “My week was … well it was hectic to be honest, but I’m happy it’s Friday. How was yours?”

It felt strange having this conversation with a man, a very sexy man, while a pair of my daughter’s underpants sat on the passenger seat along with a half empty canister of animal crackers and a stack full of grocery store coupons. If that didn’t depict my life right there, nothing did.

“It was pretty good, but I wanted to make it even better. Would you go out with me tomorrow night?”

“Damn, you cut right to the chase, don’t you?”

I slap a hand over my mouth, completely appalled that I just said that out loud.

A husky laugh comes through my Bluetooth. “In fact I do, but normally people like that quality in a man.”

He was kind of right. “I am so sorry, now I’ve shown just how rusty I am at this whole conversation, not to mention dating, thing.”

“So that’s a yes, then? You’ll go on a date with me?” I can practically see his smug, charming smile at the other end of the phone.

Thumbing through the mom-calendar in my head, I determined that I had nothing planned for Saturday night. And why not go? I mean, he wasn’t a total stranger, which eliminated the awkward “Is he a serial killer?” debate that one sometimes had when trying to date again. And he was cute. Had a job. Seemed relatively down-to-earth. If my correspondence with Derek was any clue, I no longer had feelings for my ex. Who said a single mother couldn’t also find love?

Well, almost every ounce of time on the clock and a petulant three-year-old, but that was beside the point.

“If I can get a sitter, sure I will.” I slipped in the part about Lennon because I wanted this guy to know now, my daughter came first.

“Why don’t you bring her along? We can do something PG.” The way he said it implied that he wanted to do non-PG things with me, and it made my thighs tingle.

But my heart also fluttered, in a way it hadn’t in a long time. Not that I’d had much experience other than Derek, but the fact that a man, who wasn’t my daughter’s father, wanted to include her in a date … well, the significance wasn’t lost on me.

“That would be … really nice, thanks. Should I give you some ideas or—“

“No need, I have some up my sleeve.” His voice was mysterious and boyish, and suddenly, I didn’t know who would enjoy this date more, Lennon or me.

“All right, just nothing with slime or Jell-O, I’m not trying to clean up a mess.”

“You’re telling this to a guy who makes ice cream for a living. I practically live mess. But okay, I’ll abide by your rules. I’ll pick you two up, now that you have my number, text me your address.”

Alarm bells went off. A stranger having my address, Lennon’s car seat in someone else’s car, was he even a good driver? Mentally, I slapped myself. I had to stop this. I’d promised myself when I moved here that the mania and worrying would lessen. That I’d give life a chance to surprise me more, and take me where I was supposed to go.

“Sounds like a date.” I try to use my flirtiest tone possible, and I think I kind of achieve it.

We hang up, my heart still doing that two step it had picked up ever since Jake’s voice came through the car stereo.

And then I went into full on panic mode again. Because Jesus, what the hell was I going to wear?