Page 5 of Role Play (Off the Books #1)

Actually, in this situation, it kind of will.

Tearstained, chubby cheeks are my kryptonite.

And she is particularly precious. I give her a quick once-over.

She’s wearing a fancy sundress, paired with Golden Goose tennis shoes.

I’m also convinced the prim pink Chanel backpack her dad is carrying for her is real.

Mmmk, so Daddy’s rich. We have that in common.

He’s certainly dressed like he’s well-off.

Hot dad is wearing black slacks with a white, long-sleeved, button-down shirt.

I’m willing to bet he’s a finance guy. His business attire looks subtle, but throw in his dress shoes, and I bet that ensemble cost over a grand.

Money in New York City is weird. People want to pay a small fortune to blend in.

You only notice their net worth by the tiny logos peeking from their shirt pockets or belt buckle.

The designer labels that scream, “ yes, correct, passerby. I’m glad you noticed. I am indeed out of your league .”

I yank my attention back to the little girl before he notices me studying him. Just like her dad did moments ago, I squat down to meet her at eye level. “Here, sweetie.” I hold out the cookie. “My gift to you. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“No, thank you. Please keep it,” hot dad says.

“I insist,” I say, shrugging him off.

The little girl wrestles out of her dad’s grip and grabs the package with both hands. This time, she lets out a shriek of glee. She has the deepest dimples when she smiles. It’s infectious.

I’m feeling like a damn hero for putting that smile on her face, but then I notice hot dad’s scowl.

“Oh, there’s nuts in there. Is she allergic?” I rise, grasping for some sort of explanation as to why my hero-move was poorly received.

He shakes his head. “Not at all. But you did just undermine me in front of my daughter. I’m trying not to raise a spoiled brat who stamps her feet and cries to get her way.”

A warm flood of shame washes over me. My palm meets my forehead as I shake my head.

“Shoot. I didn’t think of it like that. I’m so sorry.

” I glance down at his daughter who is clutching on to the cookie, eyes wide, like a feral animal, daring anybody to steal her treasure. “What can I do to fix it?”

A small smirk creeps over hot dad’s face. “Well, I’m going to need you to be the bad guy and take the cookie back. There will probably be more tears. But at least we won’t be reinforcing bratty behavior, right?”

My jaw sweeps the floor. “You actually want me to take the cookie away from her?”

Hot dad shrugs. “That about sums it up.”

I hold up my palms in surrender. “I can’t do that. That’s one small, adjacent step away from taking candy from a baby.”

He grins mischievously and nods. “Agreed. Total villain move. You are not going to come off good in this scenario. But you said you wanted to make it right.”

“Please don’t make me do this,” I plead, gaze fixed on the little girl’s twinkling eyes that are filling with horror. She understands where this is going.

“It’s my cookie,” she mutters weakly.

Her dad quirks his eyebrows at me. That’s hot-dad speak for, “ Get on with it .” Reluctantly, I squat back down, like I’m obeying my executioner’s command.

Oh, she’s going to be so upset. Once me and the little girl are eye level, I begin, “So, listen, sweetie, I’m sorry, I, um… I should’ve asked your dad first?—”

“I’m just messing with you. Please get up.” His eyes are in big, wide circles, and his smile is in full force. I have never wanted to slap a stranger so much in my life. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” His breathy chuckles aren’t helping my disposition.

“You’re an asshole,” I bite out as I rise to my feet. Immediately, I cringe, remembering his daughter can hear us. “Shit. I didn’t mean to curse. I mean shoot. ” I clasp both hands over my mouth. My entire neck is hot as lava.

“It’s fine,” he says, still smirking, observing me intensely with his stupid smoldering gaze. “She’s with her mom most of the time, who cusses like a sailor.” He smooths his hand affectionately over the top of his daughter’s hair. “She knows what she’s not allowed to say.”

A glint of sunlight from the café door opening catches my eye, nearly blinding me. I look up to see Dane Spellman in a sophisticated, light gray suit, then instinctively check my phone. There are no emails, missed calls, or text messages, and the time reads 1:20 p.m.

Twenty minutes late for a meeting with no heads-up. So fucking rude. But at least he showed.

Dane spots me, holds up his palm and gestures to a few sofa chairs in the back of the café.

It’s my signal to join him. “As much as I’d like to continue this uncomfortable exchange, that’s my meeting.

” I give the innocent little girl a scrunchy-face smile, then narrow my eyes at hot dad.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re funny?”

His expression turns quizzical. “Not particularly.”

“Good,” I snap. “Then you know no one’s lying to you.”

I didn’t mean to make him laugh again, but the soft rumble of his chuckle is all I hear as I collect my table number from the counter and turn toward Dane.

“Wait,” hot dad calls out as he nudges his daughter forward. “Dakota, say thank you to the nice lady for sharing with you.”

“Thank you,” she parrots absentmindedly, still staring at the cookie like it’s the new love of her life.

“You’re welcome. That’s the best cookie in the whole world.

Enjoy.” I step around hot dad, but catch his stare one more time.

His honey-brown eyes cause my heart to jolt, jumping two whole beats.

I can’t help but glance at his ringless finger again.

If Mom were here, she’d probably want to grab his hand and tattoo my phone number on it permanently.

He really is the perfect specimen.

But it’s the wrong place, wrong time. There’s only one man on my mind at the moment, and he’s in a gray suit, holding my entire future in his hands.

Nothing, and I mean nothing is going to distract me from what I’m sure is going to be the best day of my life.

Whatever offer of representation Dane Spellman is about to make, the answer is a resounding hell yes.