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My gaze drops to his mouth. “I tried to call, but Kathy wouldn’t put me through. Said I couldn’t see you without an appointment, hence . . .” I shrug.

Leo frowns. “Kathy knows to always put you through. Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough. I’ll rectify it tomorrow.”

Confusion fills me at his words. Did he know something like this would happen?

“I’ll give you my cell number before you go home.”

Unable to say anything, I just nod. I watch as his lips spread into a smirk. Blinking, I raise my eyes to his and flush. He caught me staring.

“Thank you,” he says again.

Needing to defuse the tension, I shrug nonchalantly. “Don’t thank me yet. I may or may not have fed her cake for lunch.”

Leo raises a brow. Pushing off the car, he moves to the back door. “May or may not have? Something tells me you did.”

“She was crying, and I was eating cake when she knocked.”

Like the good dad he is, Leo gives me a disapproving look.

Drawing in a deep breath, I breathe for what feels like the first time since he climbed into the car.

“You had cake for lunch?” he asks his daughter, opening the door for her.

Climbing out of the car, Riley turns to me and then back to her father. A cheeky smile is the only answer he gets.

CHAPTER TEN

Shelby

“Can we have dessert after?” Riley pleads, skipping beside her dad as we follow the hostess.

Doc makes a disgruntled sound. “Depends. How much cake did you have earlier?” he asks, turning to me.

Holding my thumb and forefinger about an inch apart, I answer, “Only a little.”

Stopping beside the table, Riley faces us, and holding up her hand, she copies my action.

“Really?” her dad asks, his tone skeptical.

Silent, he arches a brow, looking first at me and then at his daughter. Slowly, Riley’s thumb and finger move farther and farther apart.

Laughing, I cover her hand with mine. “Okay, okay. We ate like a quarter of my birthday cake,” I confess.

Placing my hand on top of her head, I spin Riley to face the table and pick her up under her arms. “We’re going to have to work on you resisting interrogation,” I mutter, sitting her on the chair her dad has pulled out.

“Baby, why don’t we lie?” Doc asks Riley, tucking her chair in closer to the table.

“Because it’s rude,” she answers, swinging her legs.

“So next time I feed her cake for dinner, I should keep it to myself?” I sass.

My body heats when his palm finds the curve of my back.

“Lying by omission is still a lie.”

I frown at his pained tone.

“Who are you lying to?” I whisper as I take my seat.