“I don’t like this shirt.”

Roman bit off a chuckle and studied Matty. He was yanking on his collar. Before he could offer a sartorial tip or two, the kid jumped off the chair he was standing on—for a better mirror view—and took off running.

“Haveta brush my teeth.”

Kelly scooted out of Matty’s way when she came around the corner to check their progress.

“Whoa, dude!” she cried out with a laugh. “Rules of the road, okay?”

The clearly jacked-up four-year-old had one thing on his mind and had no interest in what his parents had to say. Roman gave a lighthearted snicker.

“First date anxiety,” he drolly reminded her. “He’s setting a standard.”

She surprised the holy shit out of him by jumping on his torso, wrapping her legs around his waist and burying her face in his neck as she howled with laughter.

He grinned and held tight. He would gladly take anything she wanted to give and thanked God for the privilege of loving the laughing female in his arms.

Between hiccupping laughs, she tried to offer an opinion on their boy’s first date, but apparently, the subject was so hilarious, all she could do was snort and giggle.

With tremendous reluctance, he lowered her until she stood and helped repair the damage a good snotty belly laugh triggered. It did not help much that she started laughing all over again when he soberly pointed out that the story of Matty’s future self-confidence with the ladies was forming right now and that she should take this thing seriously.

“He’s four, Roman! What’s to take seriously?”

She was right with her amused sarcasm but raising a boy to be a man took more than a pat on the head. From an early age, Roman was expected to show some goddamn respect for women and his elders. Lessons he had taken to heart. Manners, compassion, and common sense had served him well over his lifetime, and he was determined to pass those things on to his son.

Without thinking his actions through, he lifted a hand and fisted Kelly’s long hair. A gentle tug had her eyes moving to his. He would be a fucking liar to pretend his dominant bell ring did not clang every time he subdued her with a subtle power play.

“I don’t want our son to grow up thinking he can behave like a little shit and get away with it. No matter how you cut this, Kelly, in his mind, this is his first date. Instinct is what makes him nervous. Even without understanding the particulars, Matty knows in his heart what is expected of a man in these situations. You should be proud of him, Carina. This is your influence playing out. Well done, my love. Well done.”

She absolutely, positively lit up and beamed. He grabbed the excellent opportunity staring him in the face.

“Liam thinks you’ve done a wonderful job.”

Her eyes dropped away despite his continued command of her head. Sighing was not an option, so he went with door number two—the direct route.

“Don’t look away, Kelly.”

He was about to tell her the high regard in which many people held her, not just her brother, when she interrupted by dropping a little truth bomb.

Her gaze swung back to his, and he loosened his grip on her hair.

“I promised Liam.”

An air of expectation hung around them, but she let the bald statement stand on its own. If she wanted him to ask, he had no problem with that. As an experienced interrogator, he knew that sometimes all it took was a simple question to open the floodgates.

Feathering his fingers down her cheek, Roman pushed long strands of hair behind her shoulder and encouraged her to continue with a slight smile and a verbal nudge.

“What did you promise, Tesoro?” He used the Italian endearment deliberately. She did not need reminding, but he was happy to reassure her every step of the way.

The corner of her lush mouth curved up, and a glimmer of happiness sparkled in her eyes. She spoke of her brother in her usual slightly condescending way; only this time, he distinctly heard amusement. This was quite literally the first time she led with humor instead of a snarl.

“Well, when that stuffed shirt masquerading as my brother showed his true colors on the morning of his wedding and I realized the Tin Man really does have a heart, he kind of had me in a corner.”

Her mocking grunt of playful surrender got him grinning like a lunatic. At that moment, he had no problem if she promised Liam a Lamborghini.

“Felt trapped and you know how that goes.” She shrugged and snicker-laughed. “Before I knew it, I was promising to try harder. You know ... make an effort.”

“With Liam?” His question was spectacularly stupid and easily earned her eye-rolling response.

“Yes, Roman. With Liam.”

His mind quickly converted a shit ton of information, and instead of leaving it at that, he pushed ever so slightly. Kelly generally responded to challenge.

“Will you qualify what making an effort means, please?”

Discovering she was ready with fast answers told his investigative instinct she had been thinking this thing through.

“Um, well … you know. Family dinners and such. And I was thinking maybe doing monthly game nights. Sam, Ginny, Liam, Rhiann, and us. Ginny has been talking about which sports teams we should root for. Create new traditions like Super Bowl chili and World Series picnics.”

Roman’s smile broadened. She did not need his approval, but he was happy to give it. Then he let his sex drive briefly off the leash he kept handy for when their boy was around.

“Football can be a fun time. Bet you would look hot in a cheerleader’s outfit. I know!” He chuckled. “How about we start our own tradition? The halftime fuck.”

She shoved him playfully. “Three words, Mr. Bishop.” He flinched when Kelly’s mouth zoomed to his ear. She bit his earlobe and licked with a delicious female growl. “Cheerleader lap dance. Two if you allow lap dance as one word.”

A number of filthy possibilities played out in his head—all featuring his diminutive lover and her stupendous tits. With her hair in braids, a cheerleading costume, and some pompoms, Kelly would find herself on the receiving end of some serious fucking.

“Are you guys kissing again?”

Matty’s long-suffering drawl cooled Roman’s ardor—temporarily.

“Bella’s mom and dad kiss all the time. Are you practicing, too?”

“Practicing?” Kelly asked.

“You know,” Matty told her in a matter-of-fact voice punctuated with a kiddie shrug. “Making a baby. Bella says Heather and Brody practice a lot.”

He and Kelly stood there gaping at the kid. Fortunately, Matty wasn’t interested in their opinion and went right back to fretting over his appearance.

“Like this shirt better,” the four-year-old going on forty drawled.

Roman did not overlook the fact that he and his boy were essentially now wearing the same thing.

Kelly offered an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “You look very nice, Matthew. Attention to detail shows your date that your time with her is special.”

Pleased with Kelly’s response, Roman slung an arm around her shoulders. He wanted to come off as relaxed and encouraging with a pinch of fatherly.

Flashing his pearly whites as example, he inspected Matty’s smile and complimented his tooth brushing skills.

“What do I smell?” Kelly asked.

“Old Spice,” he murmured.

“Are you serious?”

His smirky grin gave her his answer.

They all heard the buzzer on Roman’s phone—the one that told them Matty’s ride was arriving.

For shits and giggles, he dropped his arm from Kelly’s shoulder and reached for his wallet. Taking out a couple of twentys, he handed them to Matty with a, “Just in case,” murmur. The kid stashed the money in his Iron Man wallet.

Out of the blue, Roman pictured a time in the future when prepping his son for a date included the speech about no means no and respecting a woman’s right to change her mind. Instead of extra cash, he would probably be stuffing condoms in the kid’s pocket.

Luckily, condoms and safe sex were topics left to another decade. Tonight was all about firsts.

“Now remember,” Roman cautioned. “Manners. A gentleman holds doors and waits for the ladies to take a seat before sitting.”

“Don’t forget about please and thank you,” Kelly added.

As the lad strode confidently out the door, he and Kelly stood by waving. He almost yelled out a comment about enjoying storming the castle but figured nobody but him would get the reference.

The minute he was sure they were completely alone, Roman turned to her and said, “Now about the cheerleading lap dance ... tell me more, Carina. Does this outfit include panties, or will your bottom be beautifully accessible?”

She laughed. And laughed again. “Sounds like a great title for a dirty book. Beautifully accessible.”

He enjoyed the filthy way her mind worked and growled his approval. “It’s a series. Bound and gagged, beautifully accessible volume one. Bent over and fucked, beautifully accessible, volume two. Throat fucking, beautifully accessible, volume three.”

“Yeah, yeah”—she chuckled—“I’m getting the picture.”

He leered at her, leaving no question whatsoever where this moment was going.

“Any of those scenarios interest you?” He caught the blush and mentally thumped his chest with delight. Tapping her nose, he sniggered. “Maybe the better question would be, did any of those suggestions make your pussy quiver?”

When her gaze zeroed in on his and he saw the fire in her eyes, Roman knew the next few hours would be spent naked.

Kelly was not one to play coy or lose a perfect opportunity to hurl cheeky snark. “Whatever floats your boat, big guy.”

Roaring with laughter, he bent, shifted, and boom, just like that, she was over his shoulder and screeching her outrage. He smacked her butt and drawled, “I see you’ve been reading the submissive’s handbook again. Let’s do an unplanned quiz on the first chapters. See what your naughty ass has learned.”

Stomping directly into the master bedroom, he dropped her on her feet and aggressively tore her clothes off. Leaving her standing naked and trembling in the center of the room, he made a production of searching through stuff until he found what he wanted.

Holding the ball gag by one finger, he dangled it in front of her face. A full body blush made her skin glow. “Remember this?”

She jerkily nodded her head and bit her lip. He smirked, remembering how sexy her grunts and growls sounded with the gag in place.

“What do you say we combine volumes one and two?” He asked the question while showing her the black satin they used to tie her hands.

Her wrists came out so fast, he laughed. Roman tsk’ed and shook his head. “Turn, Tesoro. Hands behind your back.”

Her smartass obedience included pursed lips and a wink. He grinned at her audacity and made quick work of binding her hands. Then while still behind her, he reached around with the ball gag and held it up. She leaned into it and grunted softly when he secured it behind her head.

He immediately shoved her toward the bedroom loveseat and bent her over the cushioned arm. Kelly’s excited whimper when he kicked her ankles farther apart set the tone for all that came next.

Stepping back, he studied the fetching picture she made bent over with her hands tied.

Testing her arousal, he swept a hand up an inner thigh and played with her pussy. She was wet enough to be taken right now, but he had something more satisfying in mind.

Biting the flesh on her back, he growled his intention. “Bound. Gagged. Bent over. Fucked. Not a lot of suspense.”

He left her for less than a minute and came back with a vibrating wand powerful enough to make a corpse have an orgasm.

Plugging it in, he switched it on to full vibrate and listened to her moan. She knew what the loud buzzing signaled.

Stroking her hips and ass, he laid out what she could expect. Seeing her legs tremble made Roman breathe heavy. He tested her arousal one last time and then growled, “Shall we begin?”

* * *

“Sit still, honey.” Rafe’s teeth clenched from anxiety, and the last thing he needed was Molly to be bouncing off the walls. His exasperated daughter made a princess-sized effort to be still and failed miserably when her legs started swinging back and forth.

“What time is it, Daddy?”

It was too late to call this whole thing off, so he had no choice but to get over himself and make somewhat of an effort to come off like a normal human. But honest to god, man, the thought of his daughter and a first date was enough to throw him off his game. These are things no father should have to endure. Afraid that he might break out in cold sweat, Rafe guzzled his ice water and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Their waitress introduced herself and asked if she could bring them drinks. Molly was so excited, she burst out with chatter.

“We have a date,” she announced.

“You do? Well, how nice.” The waitress smiled at him and asked if she should wait for their guest before bringing anything out.

“I’ve never been on a date before,” Molly gushed. “Have you? Been on a date?”

The good-natured waitress played along. “I was quite good at first dates,” she drawled to his fascinated daughter. “But for some reason, I never had many second dates.”

Molly looked genuinely bummed until the waitress continued.

“And then I met my husband, and we’ve been on a five year date ever since.”

He pulled at his collar and offered a lame smile.

“Molly! Hi!” a little voice yelled. “We’re here!”

Rafe stood so fast, his knees whacked the table and nearly sent a water glass tumbling over.

Matthew Liam James strutted toward them with a kid grin a mile wide. Behind him strode Domineau Rivera. The minute he saw her, his heart began to race.

The waitress melted away to let them settle. Molly excitedly played table hostess and made Matty sit next to her, leaving Domineau no choice but to squeeze onto the booth’s bench seat—right next to him. The kids immediately ignored them and started chattering.

“Hi,” he mumbled.

“Hey.”

He tapped his fingers absently on the table and cleared his throat. This was so much easier when all they did was get naked. Of all the possible scenarios he came up with in his head to handle the Domineau issue, he never imagined them screwing their damn brains out minus anything that remotely smacked of a relationship. Hell, he wasn’t even a friend with benefits—she kept him at arm’s length so completely that for the most part when they weren’t having mind-blowing sex, he did nothing but pee into the wind and hope he didn’t swallow too much.

And speaking of swallowing—shit! He rubbed his face and desperately banished the all too vivid memory of Domineau on her knees with his cock in her mouth.

“Daddy! Tell Matty about my school. It’s got the coolest playground.”

Right. Matty. The kids. They were watching. He had to act normal around them.

“That’s right. Molly is all registered and ready to go in Mrs. Harmon’s class. We should take an excursion one day and check out the playground.”

“Before I go back to New York?”

The mention of Matty going home made his daughter pout. She genuinely liked her new friends. Bella was a hoot and so was her neighbor friend, Amy.

Matty, though, he was something else. The kid was picking up some of Roman’s habits where the ladies were concerned. He had a confident swagger and was conscientious about manners. Rafe hoped the girls never quarreled over him.

“Papacito,” Domineau said. “No worries, right? We talked about this.”

“I know,” he grumbled, “but all my friends are here. What if my new school is dumb?”

“Hey, little buddy,” Rafe, murmured to Matty. “Your mom and dad are all over this stuff, so do not worry so much, okay? The new house will be great, and I am sure your school will be fun. And you’ll make plenty of New York friends.”

Domineau’s hand slid to this thigh. He calmly reached for it and held tight. She loved the boy in a way that gave Rafe hope. He knew she was terrified of Molly, so this weird get-together in an Applebee’s chipped away at her fear. If she could share her heart with a four-year-old, there was hope for all of them yet.

“Is that a ballet slipper?” Molly asked. She was pointing at a bracelet Domineau was wearing. “Do you do ballet? I love it!”

He gently squeezed Domineau’s hand—encouragement and support.

“Uh, yeah.” She sat straighter and released his hand. Rafe saw her struggling to find words and almost laughed because, true to form, his daughter didn’t wait for an answer and started motor mouthing full speed ahead.

“Daddy has a tutu. He helps me practice my positions. There are five! We do this.” She raised her arms above her head and touched fingertips.

“Mr. Dallas”—Matty snickered—“you wear a tutu?”

Domineau covered her smirk with a hand and looked at him.

“Yes, I do, Matthew,” he proudly declared. “And I was voted best ballet mom at Molly’s dance school.”

The waitress came back with coloring sheets and crayons for the kids. After a serious discussion about dinner beverages, Molly eventually agreed that milk was better than a soda—which he wasn’t going to let her have no matter how much she whined. Matty had no problem passing on a sugary drink.

When the kids put their heads together for a lot of giggling while they colored, he sat back and breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, his little girl was only five, and right now, he was still her only dude, but he had to hope when this dating thing got serious in a couple of years, she would still be including her old dad.

Domineau spoke quietly. He noticed her nervous tension. “She’s, um, well, Molly, Marielle,” she muttered, “is a beautiful child, Rafael.”

“Thank you. Sometimes I can’t believe my ugly mug created something so perfect.” He added a chuckle and looked at her with a pained smirk. “Her biological other – which is what the clinic called the mother - was an entry in a database. All I cared about was a clear health report. I wasn’t comfortable with DNA shopping. Designer offspring. No thanks.”

He watched Domineau swirl the ice in her water glass. Part of him was astonished she agreed to do this. He hounded her, but she refused to give in until Matty was part of the equation. Now that they were face to face with the elephant in the room and she couldn’t ignore that he was a dad, Rafe was fascinated by her reaction because it wasn’t what he expected.

Despite her disinterested charade, Domineau was not turned off by kids. Far from it. And they weren’t a deal breaker either. He was still figuring it out, though, and was starting to move the puzzle pieces around.

Domineau adored Matty. She would step in front of a speeding train to save him. However, where Molly was concerned, things got fuzzy. Her absolute, intransigent stance that she would never ever, ever be a parent—the position she dug in and clung to that eventually broke them apart –wasn’t based on her inability to love. It was something else that he could not quite put his finger on.

Oh, and for whatever reason, his daughter terrified the normally stoic woman.

“She looks like you. Her face. I see the resemblance.”

Molly was studying them. He watched her head tilt to one side and then the other. When she thought about stuff, she always did that same thing.

“Is this a double date?”

He laughed. “Where did you hear that, honey?”

She half shrugged, and Matty answered. “Kiki told my dad that you two are not fooling anyone. What does that mean?”

Domineau sat forward suddenly and coughed. Her hand slammed the glass of water onto the table. Matty slid out of the booth and hopped to her side. He pounded on her back.

“Sorry,” she choked out. “Went down the wrong tube.”

Molly pushed some crayons toward Domineau. “You wanna color with us?”

Rafe wanted to call a time-out and explain to a clearly startled Domineau that this was what kids did. Bounced from one thing to another. The double date question was not forgotten—just shoved aside. For now. He knew damn well it would come up again at some point.

* * *

When was the last time she colored? Domineau had to really think about it. Not in a very long time, that was for damn sure.

“Not like that.” Matty giggled. “Apples don’t smile.”

Acting affronted by his four-year-old putdown, she put a hand on her chest and gasped. “Well, they should!”

Molly leaned halfway across the table and rested on her forearms a couple of inches from Domineau’s face. “You’re funny!”

As usual, when presented with Rafe’s daughter, her mouth dried up, and it felt like she was swallowing dust. She wished a surgical team could rush in right now and carefully excise the thought that kept her up at night. This child could have been mine.

The unfortunate tsunami of regret that swamped her was both staggering and a total surprise. What unsettled her even more was Rafe’s hand moving softly up and down her back. Since she was not exactly doing a great job of hiding her feelings, she ended up worrying about how much he knew. How much he was figuring out. She gulped. For real. Despite surviving a bullet in her chest, she had never felt more vulnerable.

Carefully filling in a tree with green leaves, she winked at Molly. “I like apples. Do you?”

The sweet kid giggled. “Daddy says we need two things. A cow and an apple tree.”

Rafe chortled and asked, “What does milk do?”

Molly groaned as if the question was beyond annoying. “It does a body good.”

The burst of laughter that shot out of Domineau ended with a broken crayon and her hand slapping on the table. They were like a daddy and daughter advertisement for healthy living.

Her amused laughter infected Rafe’s kid and got Matty going too. Soon they were all chuckling and acting goofy. And just like that, her spirits plummeted when she thought, I haven’t laughed like this since Mom and Dad …

She ruthlessly stopped the journey her mind embarked upon. Wandering into the forest of nightmares was a proven mistake. As the starch spread into her spine and she felt the walls go up, the waitress appeared.

Matty ran the show when their food came out from the kitchen. To the amusement of Rafe and the waitress, he made it his job to ensure that everyone had what they needed. He sounded increasingly like a mini Roman with each passing day. When it came time for the House of Bishop to close up shop in Bendover and head to New York for the school year, she would miss all of them—but especially her papacito.

She happened to glance at Rafe’s face when Matty shook out Molly’s napkin and handed it to her. He looked like he might cry.

Conflict raged inside her. She could not stand seeing him upset and wanted to be his comfort. But her hesitation held an uncomfortable truth. She was not mother material.

He turned his head and halfway smiled at her. She saw the sparkle of tears in his eyes. That was the moment when she could no longer run and hide from one simple fact. She loved Rafael D’Alessandro. But was her love strong enough to vanquish the fear?

Using old Justice terminology that to the casual listener sounded like a foreign language, he told her how much he wanted to smack the snot out of Roman Bishop. He delivered the punch line as she was sipping iced tea, and her eruption of laughter made liquid dribble from her mouth and shoot out of her nose.

The kids were oblivious because they were too busy discussing the merits of chicken nuggets versus grilled cheese.

Rafe nearly swallowed his tongue with suppressed amusement as he vainly attempted to clean her up. She smacked his hand away and glared at him. When he kept it up, she looked at Matty, made sure he was not paying attention, and then boldly groped Rafe’s crotch.

Domineau heard his mouth snap shut when she helped herself to a glorious handful. One of his enormous paws slipped beneath the table and covered her hand. He grinned and aided her squeeze.

“Desert?” he drawled.

He was incorrigible! His kid was three feet away! She started to comeback with something clever, but her mouth snapped shut when she heard her mom’s teasing voice. The memory swamped her brain as she remembered catching her parents canoodling in the laundry room. When she had reacted the way every kid did with a lot of yukky and gross, her mom laughed.

“This is what mommies and daddies do. And sometimes we have to be sneaky about it.”

The memory almost took her under when it ended with herself as a little kid thinking how romantic mommies and daddies seemed.

She raised unguarded eyes to Rafe’s and grimaced. Old panic fired off a volley in her belly.

“Breathe, baby. Here,” he gently murmured. “Sip some tea.”

He held the glass to her lips and soothed her with circular back rubs.

“She gets nightmares,” Matty solemnly told Rafe.

Domineau hoped the devil chose that moment to reach up from hell and drag her away. Could this get any worse?

It did when Matty slid from his side of the table and came to her. He tried to hug her around the waist. Part of her broke and she gasped for breath. Putting an arm around his shoulders, she accepted his loving gesture. There was no denying that somewhere along the way, she gave this little boy the key to her heart.

“Domineau should sit on your lap, Daddy.”

She swung her gaze to Rafe’s daughter.

“I feel better when I sit on Daddy’s lap. He can make it better.”

Oh my fucking god.

Matty took things to an eleven when he told Molly, “She doesn’t have a mommy and daddy.”

The way-too-mature girl replied, “I don’t have a mommy.”

Rafe said absolutely nothing as this surreal conversation continued.

Molly nodded at Matty. “You have a new daddy, right?”

His adorable head bounced enthusiastically. “Roman is the bomb. Kiki says I can say that.”

They laughed. Rafe finally spoke. “Bella got a new mommy.”

“I love Aunt Heather,” Matty burbled. “She cooks and stuff. Bella says her mommy is a sorry note from an angel.”

“What’s that mean?” Molly asked.

Matty half shrugged and looked up at Domineau. “Her first mommy didn’t take care of her, and then she died. So an angel sent Heather to say sorry.”

Why was this stuff so simple for kids? Matty made angels and sorry notes disguised as a new mom sound perfectly reasonable. So did Molly and the lap sitting.

A goddamn bomb went off in her brain when Matty asked, “Are you gonna be Molly’s new mom?”

“What?” she croaked.

Molly giggled and reached across the table to smack Matty’s arm. “Shush! Remember? We aren’t supposed to ask.”

She was still recovering from a case of flabbergast when Matty tugged on her sleeve and crooked his finger. She leaned closer, and he whispered, “It’s okay with me, Domineau. If you want Mr. Dallas to be your boyfriend, I can talk to him.”

She would enjoy eavesdropping on that conversation. When her staunchest defender asked Rafe about his intentions, she wondered if his answer would include the admission that his fantasy was to fuck her on every surface in every room in whatever house he lived in.

Thank god that Rafe finally found his voice.

* * *

He remembered his first date. Sherry Newhouse. Fifth grade femme fatale. They went to the winter ball. She told him how to stand when they had a picture taken. In a darkened hallway near the bathrooms, she had demanded he kiss her on the lips.

How many females had he kissed since then?

He had no idea.

But the one thing he did know was this—Domineau was the only woman who had ever mattered. Ever. And right now, what they were doing was stupid. By pretending and denying, they were playing with fire. One wrong move and the whole thing could catch fire and burn to the ground.

There was no fucking way that scenario worked for him. He had waited too long for a real chance. Their first crash and burn almost crippled him emotionally, and getting on with his life after her rejection had not been easy. Or fun. Until Marielle. His little girl brought the light back to his life.

The only way forward as far as he could figure was by taking a small hop of faith—not quite a leap—and praying that Molly and Domineau would find a way to bond. Forcing Domineau’s hand probably made him a dick, but he was clutching a straw in force-five wind storm.

He moved on her in a way that Rafe knew would get a reaction. He also knew that no matter how pissed off she got, he would be fucking her into submission later tonight.

Sensing Matty as an ally, he directed his response to the other man at the table. From the corner of his eye, he saw Domineau get flustered and start shredding a paper napkin.

“We should talk, Matthew,” Rafe gravely told the impressionable boy.

Molly, the little imp, giggled.

“Rafe,” Domineau grumbled. “Cut it out.”

Not sure what his daughter was thinking, he was surprised when she reached across the table for Domineau’s hand. His surprise turned to frozen shock when she dropped a truth nugget he could barely believe she remembered him saying.

“One time, I asked Daddy if we could find a mommy for our family. He said that mommies need extra love.”

“It’s true,” Matty interjected.

“And then he said that he only had enough love for me and you.”

“What?” Domineau asked.

“Yeah. He told me about a lady with pretty eyes who wanted to be a ballerina. That was you, right?”

Wow. In the end, he said almost nothing. Molly and Matty were making his argument for him.

He claimed Domineau’s thigh and gave a gentle squeeze. She reached for his hand—he thought she meant to push it aside—and threaded trembling fingers with his. Her nervousness touched him deeply. Smoke was far too badass for nerves. This unsure, conflicted female was the part she kept hidden from everybody. Except finally, him.

Matty, God bless his old soul, joined in. “My dad said one time he did something stupid, and Domineau got hurt. He told Kiki that Mr. Dallas was so mad he almost snapped him in two. But Domineau told him no. He says that’s when he knew you guys belonged together.”

Domineau groaned. “Both of you,” she said with a gesture at both kids. “Cover your ears.”

They complied, of course, with a giggle after Matty dryly chanted, “Penny jar!”

“What the fuck, Rafe,” she growled.

Goddammit. Why does her growl have to sound so sexy? Was it because of the reverberation in her throat? The one his cock so thoroughly enjoyed? Yeah, probably.

“Don’t overreact,” he teased. “They still have eyes, and believe me, darlin’, Sherlock and Holmes are watching our every twitch and sigh.”

Domineau’s hand slammed flat on the table, and she glared at him with some serious eat shit and die shade shooting from her eyes. “Is everyone talking? If there’s a betting pool, I’m going to shoot somebody.”

That was so not what he expected her to say. He would bet a million bucks she had no idea her walls were crumbling. Now seemed as good a time as any to set her straight and let the chips fall.

“There are no wagers, darlin’. Because you are the only one who ignores the truth. Nobody has had the balls to say anything to my face, but let’s be honest —Team Justice knows damn well what’s going on. And has been going on for a long time. Just waiting on you.”

“Time’s up,” Matty declared. “Are you gonna do it?”

Domineau groaned and covered her eyes.

The kid persisted. “Domineau?”

Vulnerable and exposed, his lady pulled it together and sat straight. Pride for how she handled everything thrown her way filled him to bursting.

“Okay, kids”—she sniggered—“let’s get some things straight. No more drivel about mommies and daddies, got it?”

Both kids whined and grumbled, “Aww.”

She softened a bit and continued. “But we can negotiate terms for a boyfriend/girlfriend arrangement.”

Molly nearly jumped out of her skin and squealed with delight.

Matty appeared concerned. “What does nego, uh, what does that mean?”

“Negotiate terms,” Rafe explained. “It means she’s open to discussing the parameters …”

“You guys are so funny,” Matty quipped.

Molly complained, “Too many big words.”

She was right, of course, but his lady needed to learn this. Kids were not here for their grown-up shit.

“No, you’re right,” Domineau agreed.

Matty laughed. “But I like her big words. We make lists and stuff.”

“Well, here’s an idea,” he told them with his phone held up. “I’ll start a list, and every time you hear something you don’t understand, we’ll make a note. Then, at home, we can look it up and discuss it. Sound good?”

The kids enthusiastically agreed, but Domineau was quiet. Her hands were in her lap, and she was strangling another napkin. His heart went out to her. She was trying so hard, and he knew the effort came at a cost. Instead of hiding his feelings, he let her know what she could expect going forward by slipping an arm around her shoulders. She turned slightly and put both hands on his thigh. Their eyes met. He gave her a confident smile and nodded to let her know everything was all right.

He nearly exploded with pride when she offered the junior detectives studying them from the other side of the table a tentative smile. “Just so you know, this is new. Never been a girlfriend before. I need you guys to help me. Can you do a favor?”

“What favor,” Molly wanted to know.

“Well,” Domineau explained, “is it okay if some things stay between us?”

“She means private stuff. Like kissing,” Matty smoothly translated.

“Family stuff stays private, right, Moll?” He looked at his daughter and gave her a dad expression.

She did him proud by calming Domineau’s nerves. “Oh, don’t worry, Domineau. Me and Matty and Bella made a secret keeper. Nobody knows about it but us.” She imitated zipping her lip and then grinned.

Matty announced that he had to take a wicked whizz. Roman’s go-to expression coming out of the boy’s mouth was the perfect way to lighten the serious mood. Sometimes easy and amusing was the surest way to success. No need to push Domineau any further.

Rafe playfully shoved Domineau from their side of the booth and gave her mad props for the goofy way she pretended to nearly ass plant on the floor. The kids were delighted. He motioned to Matty.

“Men’s room run. Ladies,” he drawled, “behave while we’re gone.”

Matty snickered before marching toward the bathrooms. Rafe hesitated for a heartbeat when he saw Domineau’s panic at being left alone with Molly. She looked at him and sighed. There was nothing he could do. An adult was mandatory for all public bathroom visits.

She nodded. “Go on. It’s fine.”

He nodded and hurried after Matty.

Wicked whizz taken care of, they were washing up when Rafe gave his daughter’s first date some man-to-man face time.

“So, Matthew. What are your intentions toward my daughter?”

Matty snickered and rolled his eyes. “My dad said you’d ask.”

He grinned because the subtext of Roman Bishop’s son and his daughter hanging out was too fucking ironic for a straight face. Plucking a handful of paper towels that he handed off to Matty, Rafe played his fatherly role to the hilt.

“I thought you and Bella …”

“Oh! Bella’s my girl, Mr. Dallas. We packed and everything.”

Packed? Rafe searched his brain for a kid-translation. “You mean you made a pact?”

“Sure,” Matty agreed. “I never knew anyone my age before Bella. She has friends at her school, but there is stuff she won’t say.” He shrugged. “Kiki says we have things in common.”

“If Bella is your girl, how come your first date is with Molly?”

It seemed like a reasonable question. Matty, however, looked at him as if he had grown a second nose and mumbled, “Uh.”

He had the sudden feeling these kids were a shit ton smarter than the adults gave them credit for.

“Uh?” he asked with raised brows.

Watching an almost five-year-old with an ancient soul shuffling his feet awkwardly and searching for an escape route was worth the price of admission.

“Okay. I’ll tell you but don’t tell Domineau.”

Wow. Whatever the junior league was up to would be good—he could sense it. Was this what second generation Team Justice looked like?

“So me ’n’ Moll and Bella were talking. We’re not stupid, Mr. Dallas. And Domineau is my best friend. She likes you, and you like her.”

Holy crapadoni. Why the fuck do adults imagine they know so much more than kids?

“It was Bella who said if me and Molly made a date, you’d have to go too. And I could ask Domineau to tag along.”

Rafe laughed and rubbed a hand back and forth on his skull. They’d been set up by three kids. On impulse, he extended his hand, man to man, and gravely thanked the boy for being a gentleman with his daughter. Matty beamed like the lights on a 747.

“Let’s get back, little man,” he said.

Before they stepped back into the restaurant, Matty turned and asked, “Why does Domineau act funny around Molly?”

The boy’s protective instincts and love for his friend made Rafe emotional. If he had a lick of sense, he’d be jealous of the boy for stealing Domineau’s heart.

Mincing words with the unusually mature lad seemed idiotic, so he went with a pared down version of the truth that he hoped the kid would understand.

“She might seem tough, Matthew, and she is, but Domineau is human like the rest of us.”

“You mean because her mom and dad got killed?”

Jesus F. Christ. This kid knew a lot. He knew Roman would never supply that tidbit. Killed. Which meant it was Domineau who gave the boy the crucial piece of information.

“Yes, exactly. Molly makes her think about her mom.”

“Oh.”

“She told you about the nightmares, didn’t she?” Rafe felt like he was talking to a peer despite Matty being less than half his height.

“We discuss lots of stuff. She’s going to take me for a ride in her dad’s car.”

Her dad’s car?

* * *

A fucking insurgent ambush was easier to navigate than being alone with a five-year-old who Domineau swore could see right through her. The kid’s eyes never blinked.

“What should I call you?”

Domineau flinched. What was the real question?

“My dad’s never had a girlfriend before.”

Oh. Whew. She just needed clarification. Domineau slid off the ledge she was mentally prepared to jump from. With Mom not on the table and Smoke inappropriate, she was about to default with her first name when a hushed voice from the past spoke up. For whatever reason, she took a little leap and hoped it was not a horrible mistake.

“My parents called me Rina. Short for ballerina or bailarina,” she pronounced in flawless Portuguese. “I’d be okay if you wanted to use it.”

“Wow, that’s pretty,” Molly gushed. “I like the way you say Spanish. Can you teach me?”

“My family is Portuguese,” she replied. “Sounds a lot like Spanish. But I can speak French too. And a little German.”

“I like you.”

Dinner swirled in her stomach. Boob sweat made her torso feel like it was wrapped in a heating pad. Molly’s eyes—just like her father’s—studied her. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

“You don’t know me. I could be a real bitch.” She regretted the profanity until the precocious kid laughed.

“Matty told me you’d say that! Penny jar, by the way.”

She had to smile. Damn that boy!

“Hey! I have an idea. Wanna dance with me and Bella and Amy? In the show. Do you have leotards? I do. They’re pink. I wear my hair special. Daddy won’t let me get toe shoes. Gotta be twelve. Do you have toe shoes?”

The question landed like a rock in her gut. Did she have toe shoes? Fuck. Yeah. She had a box of pointe shoes. The first pair she got for her eleventh birthday from her dad. Domineau remembered being thirteen when she took her first pointe work class, but by then, she was an orphan.

The kid sucked up all the oxygen around them and talked nonstop. Her questions were non-sequiturs stitched together willy-nilly. Domineau half-relaxed.

“I heard you singing. With Ms. Remy. I wanna play the piano like her. Ms. Heather is making oatmeal bars for the bake sale. I like being on stage, do you?”

She might be starting to get the hang of this. Molly’s motor mouth was no different from Matty except instead of chess and random science questions, she was all about girly stuff. Instead of responding, she asked a question. “What do you and your dad do for fun?”

Molly laugh-shrugged. “Everything! Daddy likes to be silly. We made peanut butter and jelly pancakes!”

“Did you make a mess?”

“A big one,” she proudly declared. “Do you like my hair? Daddy did it.” Molly flipped around and pointed at an amazingly perfect French braid.

Rafael D’Alessandro did a mean French braid. The notion was so funny she snorted, but it made sense in a way. Strong, opinionated women raised him, and he was, hands down, the most impressive feminist she had come across in a long time.

Matty was strutting confidently toward the table. He looked so damn cute in his Roman Bishop Junior outfit. She and her old friend hit the jackpot the day Kelly and Matty came into their lives. Seemed trite to say it, but things really would never be the same.

Rafe turned the corner right behind Matty. His strut was also confident although punctuated with a manly swagger that earned a few turned heads. Of course, his stature, muscles, and bald dome meant some of the curious eyes following him were also sighing.

Ha! Tough titties, gals! And guys.

Rafe was a magnet for the LGBT community. One time, she thoroughly enjoyed watching him beat the snot out of a dude for taunting a closeted soldier. Things like honor and justice flowed through his veins. It was in his DNA. The man shit integrity.

She was enjoying the man parade when a chick without a clue stood quickly to block Rafe’s progress. She giggled and did a simpering, “Sorry,” charade. When she put a hand on Rafe’s chest for balance, Domineau slid from her seat, ready to go clock the bitch for touching her man.

Oh.

My.

Fucking.

God.

She swallowed a big lump that formed in her throat. Her man?

Matty approached and turned to see what she was looking at. Molly was on her knees, peering around the end of the booth.

“Daddy! Come on! Rina and I need you.”

Shocked and amused, she glanced at Molly and bit her tongue to keep from falling over laughing. The kid might only be five, but she knew what the hell she was doing! She pursed lips and the challenging glare she worked up was a warning shot for any female foolish enough to cross her. The daddy-daughter dynamic was strong with these two. Domineau was quietly pleased that Molly included her when she spoke.

“Rina?” Rafe asked with raised brows when he got to the table.

“Domineau said I could call her Rina. Like ballerina, get it?” Molly excitedly blurted when Rafe slid into the booth.

“Oh, did she now? Well, how terrific is that?”

The enormous smile that spread on Rafe’s face made her blush.