The What If Guy - Lauren Blakely Page 0,10

bed.

“Can’t I stay up and play the Animal Trivia Challenge game? It’s a new game, and it’s so fun. You have to answer questions. Like, did you know koala fingerprints are like human ones? I learned that.”

“Huh. I never knew that.”

“And they could be confused with human prints at crime scenes,” she says, reaching for her phone. “I can show you more.”

I shake my head, gently grabbing the phone and placing it on the table. “It’s nine. Phone time is over. And Daddy already isn’t winning any awards for best dad of the year, since I let you eat candy at night.”

She laughs, then presses a kiss to my cheek. “You’re getting the award. Because you gave me candy.”

I roll my eyes. “Not why I wanted it, but I’ll take it.” My brain snags on something though. “Why would koalas be at a crime scene?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. We could play the game and find out,” she offers with an inviting smile.

I wag a finger. “You are a brilliant negotiator. But it’s still bedtime. Vamoose, child of mine.”

She races down the hall to her bedroom, and her speed makes me wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have given her jelly beans so close to bedtime.

But if giving her sugar too close to bedtime is the worst thing I do, I’ll take it.

“I’m putting on my doggie jammies,” she shouts from her room.

“They’re adorable. Arf-arf,” I call as I grab my phone. I’ve been out of the office all afternoon, but I plan on working late tonight once Amelia conks out.

I have zero regrets about falling behind on work today, because spending time with my kid is my favorite thing, and I got to do it all afternoon. I’ll gladly work past midnight to make up for it.

Starting now.

I’m about to open my email to catch up, but first, I google “koala fingerprints.” Who knows when that little tidbit might come in handy? More likely at a business meeting than on a date, because I excel at the one and bomb at the other. My laser focus is better spent on business.

I learn that marsupials can grasp, much like humans, giving them humanlike prints. But before I can dive deeper into the implications of a koala-cage crime scene, a postcard Made Connections icon flashes at the top of the screen.

I sit up straighter.

Holy shit.

Is this what I think it is?

I figured the chances of the gorgeous brunette seeing my post were razor-thin, and the chances of her being single were even thinner—prosciutto-slice thin.

I honestly wasn’t expecting any response to my Made Connections post.

Hoping for one? Yes.

Expecting it? Not at all.

I have a plate full of work to devour this weekend, but this is far more appealing than email.

Before I open her response, I reread my original post, the one I put up right after lunch with my buddies today.

Seeking Fan of Snoopy:

For the record, I’d have given it to you. The gift we were fighting over. But I was having too much fun talking to you. And I wish I’d have gotten your number while we were deal making over dogs and drinks. Here’s hoping you see this and respond, because if you do, I promise I will ask for your number, use it immediately, and ideally take you out for those mojitos.

From,

The single dad buying a gift for his kid who got a call from the kid’s school right when he wanted to ask you for your number

I laid it all out for her from the start, letting her know the score. I don’t want her to say yes, then have some awkward moment over drinks where she freaks out that I have a kid.

Been there. Don’t want to go there again.

As I click on the postcard, my heart thumps a little faster with some kind of hope—is this modern dating hope?

Hard to say, since I’ve hardly dated since Stacey.

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to feel.

But I’m definitely enjoying the zing in my chest.

Maybe too much.

I try to rationalize. To prepare for bad news, since life delivers plenty of that.

Hell, maybe this note isn’t even from her.

Maybe someone else saw my post, thought it was for her.

Or maybe this note is from someone pretending to be my mystery woman.

But Summer assured me that catfishing can’t happen on this app. To answer a post, you have to fill out a box with something only the missed connection would know, proving you are who you say.

I had asked what was on