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Maeve joins in on the laughter.
“Don’t you two have some painting to do? We only have this room for two hours.”
Gwen scrambles over to choose her colors and brushes.
“You have a great kid,” Maeve tells me.
“Thanks. I think so too.”
“It’s sweet how the two of you are so close.”
“Being her dad is my favorite job.”
She smiles. “I can tell.”
Gwen returns to her easel, ready to begin. “What are you two waiting on?”
“We got sidetracked, talking,” Maeve says.
I follow her over to the side table to choose my colors, and edge up beside her. “I think I’m gonna go with red for my dragon,” I say.
“Sounds good.” She takes her time selecting paints and brushes, paying me no mind until I press my arm into hers.
“Do you need something?” She doesn’t even look at me.
“I can think of a few things, but now isn’t the time or place,” I whisper and smirk.
“Hmm. Seems like there isn’t a good time or place, boss.”
Maybe I like it a little too much when she calls me that?
She’s right, but there really isn’t a time or place for me to do what I want. Of course, that didn’t stop me from forcing her to come with us. My common sense doesn’t seem to have a say when it comes to Maeve. My behavior changes direction as often as a ping pong ball. It’s erratic and unpredictable, which is nothing like me.
She returns to her easel, and I amble over to mine. We fall silent as we get lost in the creative process. I take my time, trying to follow the sample painting. I’d like the finished product to actually resemble a dragon.
It’s nice having this room to ourselves. I can focus on having a great time with my daughter and this woman who’s captured my interest from the moment we met.
Speaking of, I sneak a glance at Maeve. Her tongue is tucked into the corner of her mouth as she slowly strokes the brush over the canvas. Her wide blue eyes are intently focused on the small green rowboat she’s adding, and she looks adorable.
“Maeve,” Gwen calls her name, gaining her attention. “Who’s your favorite boss, my grandpa or my dad?”
Maeve’s shoulders shake with laughter. “Definitely your grandpa.” She gives me a side-eye.
“What do you have to say about that, Dad?”
Unconcerned, I shrug. “I don’t think a total of ten days of working for me is long enough for Maeve to be making such a bold declaration. We’ll have to ask her how she feels a few months from now. I bet I’m her favorite by then.” I wink at Maeve as if to say I’ve got this. You don’t stand a chance at resisting me.
God knows, I can’t resist you.
“Maeve, have you ever been for a ride on a Zamboni?”
“And out of left field,” I tease.
Maeve glances at her, shaking her head. “No, I haven’t. Have you?”
She nods. “When I was little, my dad took me for a ride.”
I smile at the memory. She sat in my lap while I drove her around.