Sandy

I pointed at the corner of the freezer. “Give me two scoops of the cookie dough with a waffle cone, please.”

The clerk, who resembled a clean-cut college football player, gave a grin. “Yes ma’am.”

I glanced at Craig. “He wants me to meet his daughter. Good idea?”

Without looking up from the various tubs of ice cream in the case, he responded. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to.”

“Wait!” I shouted as he was taking the second scoop of ice cream. “One cookie dough and one bubble gum.”

He looked up. “Are you sure?”

I sighed. “I’m pregnant.”

“Are you pregnant and sure?”

I shrugged. “For now.”

He tossed the scoop aside, got a new one and finished my cone. As he handed it to me, he looked at Craig. “What can I get you?”

“Single scoop, waffle cone, butter pecan, please.”

“Oh my God,” I said. “I should have got butter pecan.”

The clerk looked at me and then at Craig. “She’s going to be fun to be around, huh?”

“Oh, it’s not mine,” Craig said. “We’re just friends.”

“Oh.”

I paid for the ice cream, and we sat down at a high-top table. “I’m nervous.”

He took a bite of his ice cream. “About the daughter?”

“Uh huh.”

“Just be yourself,” he said. “If you’re you, she’ll love you.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

“I sure hope so.”

He took another bite. “So, are you ready for the move in?”

I shrugged. “I think so. I don’t know. I mean, not really, but kind of.”

“Indecisive much?”

I looked up from my cone. “What do you mean?”

“Yes, no, maybe.” He held his cone to the side and shook his head. “Make a decision, Sandy. Life works much better when you commit yourself. When you don’t, your heart’s not in it. And, when your heart’s not in it, you’ll fail. Every time.”

“Oh. So, if I tell myself I’m ready to do this, it’ll work out just fine?” I asked in a sarcastic tone.

“No. You can’t just tell yourself. You’ve got to commit.”

“How do I do that?”

“Believe? I think that’s the first step. Believing it’s what you want.” He took a bite of his cone and then looked at me. “I’m moving in with Mr. Biker, and I’m so ready for this. Whatever it takes to make this work, I’m prepared to do. I will not accept failure. You say that, and you mean it.”

“It’s that easy?”

He munched about one-third of his cone, and then nodded. “Pretty much.”

“I do want it to work, I just have my doubts that it will.”

He took a few more bites of the cone and then shook his head. “With an attitude like that, it won’t.”

“Won’t what?”

He poked the end of the cone in his mouth, chewed it, then swallowed. “Work out. If you’re sitting here doubting it, you’re setting yourself up for a failure. You’re destined to fail before you ever start.”

Ice cream ran down the cone and onto my hand. I grabbed a napkin and wiped it off. “I’m trying to be realistic.”

“Just because every other guy you’ve been with is a douche, it doesn’t mean this guy is.” He dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin, and then turned to the side. “Good?”

I nodded.

He looked the other direction.

I nodded. “You’re good.”

“Give him a chance,” he said. “Since he asked you to move in, has he done anything stupid?”

“No.”

He wadded up the napkin and placed it in the center of the table. “He’s probably committed himself to this.”

“You think?”

“I hope so.”

“But you don’t know?”

He let out a sigh. “Assume he has until he does or says something to convince you otherwise. If he is committed, I’m sure you’ll see subtle differences in how he acts. Little signs. He may become possessive of you. If he does, it’s a good sign.”

I nodded slowly as I thought about what he said. “Are you ready?”

“You’re not going to eat your cone?” he asked.

I scrunched my nose. “It’s gross.”

He scooped the trash from the table, stood, and then reached for my cone. “Commit yourself, and assume he’s done the same. You’ll know pretty soon if he’s committed.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s an alpha. Guys like him are possessive. He’ll show you in no time if he’s committed.”

I’d never had a guy be possessive of me, and wondered just how I’d react if Smokey ended up being so. As Craig threw away the cone, I decided I’d just have to wait and see what the future held.

“I hope when he does that I can see it,” I said.

“He’s a tattooed biker that rides with who? The Filthy Fuckers?” He chuckled. “You’ll see it.”