I roll my eyes. “Sammy is hilarious. The kid constantly has me in stitches. The problem is, it makes it hard to discipline him.”
Dev turns my hand over and touches my palm with his thumb. He does it so casually it should be no big deal, but it’s sending thrills up my arm and into my chest. Every tiny touch from him gives me a shock of pleasure now. Things feel different between us.
“He doesn’t seem to need much discipline,” Dev says. “He’s very polite, and he’s obviously worried about how other people feel. He’s compassionate. That’s a big deal for a kid his age. Most little boys are complete sociopaths.”
I laugh. “You say all that, but every once in a while I wonder about him. His favorite hobby is ripping the heads off his sisters’ dolls.”
“If Jacob had any sisters, I’ll bet he’d do the same thing.”
“Nooo, not Jacob. He’s too sweet.”
“Trust me. When he rolls his wheelchair down the sidewalk, he specifically steers it so he can run over ants. Tell me that’s not sociopathic behavior.”
“Okay, so he’s not going to win any Upstanding Citizen of the Year awards right now, but he’s barely five. Give him some time.”
We look into each other’s eyes, smiling at how silly we’re being. Two parents, complimenting each other’s kids . . . Does it get any cheesier than this? Probably not. Luckily, we’re interrupted from going too much further down that road by the delivery of our sweet teas. I pull my hand away from Dev’s, gripping my glass and taking a sip. It’s as sweet as I was expecting, with a little twist of lemon. Perfect.
Dev takes a long drink, swallows, and then sighs with satisfaction. His eyes are closed in bliss. “Best sweet tea in Louisiana.”
Melba has already left our table, but she hears him and laughs. I can see why he comes here a lot. They treat him like he’s somebody special, and he is. I’m glad I’m not the only one who sees it. Guys like Dev deserve to be treated well. I have to look down in my glass to keep from smiling like a goofy fool at him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
So, what are you and Jacob doing for Halloween?” I ask.
Dev opens his eyes and leans forward a little. “Halloween is a really big event at the Lake household.”
“It is, huh?”
“Yes. I have to get very creative with the costuming. Every year, the bar is set a little bit higher. By the time my kid is in his last years of trick-or-treating, I’m going to be recruiting people from Hollywood for these costumes of his.”
I lean in, intrigued. “Really? What did he go as last year?”
“Shark.”
I blink a few times, trying to picture it. “Shark?”
“Yep. Shark. Bull shark to be exact. Toughest, baddest-ass shark in the world.”
“Second only to the great white,” I say, repeating facts I’ve heard on my favorite TV channel.
“I beg to differ,” Dev says. “The bite force of the great white is not nearly as strong, being that their diet is mostly soft-fleshed animals like seals, whereas the bull shark regularly has to crunch through sea turtle shells.”
I sense a fellow Animal Planet fan and lean in, ready to go head-to-head. “Maybe, but if you really want to go as a badass animal, I suggest you look no further than the saltwater crocodile.”
“Agreed.” Dev leans in and winks at me. “I think you just solved my costume problem.”
“How will you build a croc costume?”
“I have no idea.” He picks up his glass and takes a sip. “All input is welcome.” He crunches on some ice as he waits for me to respond.
I chew my lip and think about it for a few seconds. “Maybe you should do something easier, since you don’t have much time. Like Batman and Robin.”
“Did it already. Two years ago.”
“How about . . . traditional stuff, like a ghost or a witch or a vampire?”
“Amateur hour. We did that when Jacob was two years old.”
“I was going to be a witch, but okay . . .”
“You can do better than that.” Dev gives me the eye. “I bet you’ve got all kinds of creative ideas floating around in that brainy head of yours.”
“I might have some creativity, maybe, but I don’t have time to do anything with it. That’s my biggest problem. I always cop out and get some cheap costume at the drugstore.”
“Well, now that you’re working with us, you’ll have more free time on your hands, right?”
I shrug. “I guess we’ll see.”
Dev gets serious. “Are you happy? Are you glad you got the job?” He seems to really want to know my answer, leaning in and staring at me.
I want to see that smile light up his face and that dimple cave in on his cheek, but I also know that I need to be honest with him. Just like I need to be honest with myself. I take a breath before answering.
“I am happy. I’m also a little bit worried.”
“What are you worried about?” The concern in his voice makes it easier for me to think about my answer and make sure it comes out right.