He didn’t sound too disgruntled. I’d heard worse. Who could forget Fucking Chad?
“Yes, Dad.” Pipsqueak rolled her eyes. “Do you need me to introduce him? I think you remember his name.”
I stuck my hands into my pockets and refrained from showing any amusement. “I’ll take good care of her, sir. You know that.”
He grunted and peered down at Grace. “What do you think, sugar? Do you vouch for your father?”
She babbled something and bounced on her toes.
Elise walked over to her and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Daddy’s the best, isn’t he?”
Grace laughed and nodded, though undoubtedly because Pipsqueak was nodding too.
“No need to exaggerate,” James muttered.
“Oh, you’re being silly.” Mary swatted his arm. “You two have a lovely date. We’re of course very happy for you.” She beamed at her daughter and kissed her cheek. “I know you’ve been waiting for this, sweetie.”
I smiled at how quickly Elise looked away, self-conscious. Or embarrassed. Whichever it was, I wanted to hear all about her crush on me before I wiped away any lingering mortification. Sue me, but it made me feel ten feet tall.
After getting a quick hug from Grace and wishing the Quinns a nice evening, I ushered Elise out of the house, where I could finally tell her how fucking stunning she was.
She grinned up at me, and I was fast to dip down and kiss those soft lips.
It felt good that we were doing this. After a year of wondering and worrying, taking Pipsqueak out to dinner—for an official date—was like turning the uncertain into certain. She wasn’t the only one who needed things set in stone; I preferred it that way too.
Before we left her street, I grabbed my suit jacket in my car, figuring I might need it later if she got cold. June wasn’t very hot in Washington, and even though the sun had warmed up the town today, it was steadily dipping closer to the horizon.
“Where are we going?” she asked curiously.
“The marina,” I replied. “I took your not-so-subtle hint about the Italian place there that never checks for ID.”
I smirked at her snicker.
It still felt a little bizarre that I was with someone who couldn’t order her own drink in a restaurant.
“My youngling.” I draped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “How long do you think it’ll take Darius to call me a cradle robber?”
Elise snorted and removed my arm from around her, wanting to hold hands instead. Very fine by me. I threaded our fingers together as we started crossing the playground.
“He’ll probably tell me I’m shopping at the old folks’ home too,” she mused.
I laughed.
We arrived at the marina a few minutes later, and we were far from the only ones here. The outdoor seating areas along the boardwalk bustled with couples, groups of friends, and families who were out to eat. Elise glanced apprehensively at Darius’s restaurant as we passed, but I didn’t see him, nor did I care if we happened to run across him. It was only a matter of time.
Two spots over, we entered the Italian place where I’d made reservations. Just in time for my stomach to growl with hunger.
“I have a reservation for two under Becker,” I informed the hostess.
She checked her computer. “Of course, your table will be ready in a few minutes, sir.”
“Thanks.” I placed a hand on the small of Elise’s back and guided her to the side. “Damn, I’m hungry.” Everything smelled fantastic in here, and a server just passed us with two dishes of lasagna.
“Me too.” She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around my middle. “Have I told you I’m glad you’ll be in California next semester?”
I smiled and dropped my lips to the top of her head. “Tell me again.”
She lifted her head and looked up at me. “I’m so fucking happy we’ll see each other more often next year.”
“Such language from my Pipsqueak.” I dipped down and kissed the smirk off her face.
“So, you can fuck me, but I can’t say fuck?”
Jesus Christ. I coughed and looked around to confirm no one had heard her, and when I faced her again, she was grinning like only a Quinn could. With way too much triumph and cockiness.
She smoothed her hands down the lapels of my suit jacket. “Was that too much for you, Mister?”
I narrowed my eyes.
Cheeky brat.
“Mr. Becker? Your table is ready.”
Thank fuck because I didn’t have a witty retort ready for her.
We were shown to a table by a window with a view of the boardwalk, and I got to be the gentleman pulling out the chair for my date. Things like that mattered to me, because I could finally put my heart into every action. I was done going through the motions on autopilot and doing things because they were expected of me. My relationship with Elise was going to be genuine, as it had been from the very beginning when I’d befriended a curious preteen who came over at dawn to sit on the porch with me. If I remembered correctly, she’d been eleven the first time she came over without a chaperone. First time I’d seen her at dinners at the Quinns, she’d hidden behind James.