Is that what I want, to get rid of him? Or did I honestly think he was going to chase after me forever?

I groan audibly.

Before I can work out my feelings, he pushes through the door and locks onto my gaze with an intensity that I feel in my toes.

“Morning, Kitty.”

“Coffee?” I ask, and he nods.

“And maybe dinner tonight?”

A small, okay a large, part of me jumps for joy that he’s not given up on me. But then that makes no sense because I’m not going to say yes. But how do I justify the relief I feel that he’s here? Guess that answers my question if I wanted to get rid of him. I don’t.

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“¿Por qué mierda sigo torturándome?” he mutters under his breath.

His exasperation makes me smile. My saying no has never seemed to bother him before. Not really. Not like this. And there’s something seriously sexy about a man speaking in another language.

“But,” I say quietly, and his head snaps up and something that looks like hope flashes across his face. “I have a project I’m working on that I could use your help.”

“A school project?”

“A play I’m writing. It’s set in Mexico.”

“Ah.” He seems to consider that. “I could help you during our date.”

That seems unlikely, but maybe I can barter. I mean, honestly, a date with Joel in exchange for help with the play that might make the difference on job applications next year is hardly an unfair trade. And worst case, it’ll be the most entertaining night of my life. Of that, I have no doubt.

“I’ll make you a deal. If you help me, then I’ll go out with you. One date.”

“Done,” he answers without hesitation. “Pick you up tonight at seven?”

“Oh, uh, tonight’s not good for me.” Oh God, am I really doing this? Once I go out with him, the fantasy will be gone and there’ll be no going back to Thursdays where Joel waltzes in and tries to sweep me off my feet. I’ll have been swept and he’ll move on to someone new.

And I still haven’t told him about Christian. I realize now I should have just told him the first time he strolled in and hit on me, but I’d wanted to stay in fantasy land. Now it’s all weird because I haven’t told him and how do you just blurt out, I have a kid, without sounding like a weirdo or like you’re asking for a blood signature relationship oath? It’s a tricky situation that I’ve mostly avoided in the past by not letting men in at all.

“How about Sunday afternoon?”

“That’s three days away.” He raps his knuckles on the counter as he thinks. "Sunday afternoon. I’ve got somewhere I need to be at noon. How’s ten?"

“Ten is good.” Or I hope it is. I need to check with Nadine and my mom and see if one of them can watch Christian for a few hours. They’re always insisting it’s no problem and it is technically for school.