I mean, for heaven’s sake.

Was this guy awesome or what?

Which brought us to now.

Back at my place.

And Axl had discovered the creamer.

He hadn’t filled his drawer (though I’d shown it to him, and the slow smile was so worth the struggle of trying to make space for him—what could I say, I liked clothes and I had a walk-in, but it wasn’t Kardashian level).

I hadn’t filled the drawers he’d cleared for me.

But this was real.

It was happening.

And all those things I’d discovered about him that first day in his house were panning out.

We were compatible.

Like, crazy compatible.

He hung up his towel.

I did too.

He rinsed his whiskers from the sink (he’d brought over a razor, and shave cream).

I had no whiskers, but if I did, I’d rinse them.

He put his coffee mug in the dishwasher, I did as well.

We both liked Mexican.

We both liked going down on each other.

We both liked lots and lots (and lots) of sex.

I liked to dance when he was at the club.

He liked to watch me.

I mean, were we not perfect?

On this thought, he came down the steps into my bedroom carrying two mugs of coffee.

I pushed up on an elbow. “Which one did you go for?”

“I got a toffeenut and a cinnamon. Which one you want?”

Hmm.

Tough choice.

He sat on the bed facing me and I asked, “Which one do you want?”

“I don’t care. You got all the best flavors. I’m good either way.”

I was too!

See!

We were perfect!

Since he didn’t seem prepared to head straight out the door, in order to get caffeine and more time with Axl, and not spend that time talking about who wanted what, I decided, “Cinnamon.”

He handed me a mug.

I adjusted the pillows and scooched up to rest a shoulder against them so I could take a sip.

“You down with me putting a litter box in your utility so Cleo can come over?” he asked after he took his own. Then he shot me a handsome grin. “Like the other girl in my life, she likes alone time, but I got the cold shoulder yesterday when I went over to give her breakfast. She didn’t even come into the kitchen. Just sat in the doorway giving me the evil eye.”

I was surprised this wasn’t Cleo’s normal morning ritual.

Still, I replied, “Oh no. Totally, it’s okay to set her up here. Since you’re working, I’ll go out and get the stuff. Is she particular?”

He grinned again. “What do you think?”

She was particular.

Man, I liked that cat.

“I’ll text you a pic of her sitch at my place and the brand of litter,” he said.

“Cool.”

“You got Mac’s shower tomorrow,” he noted mysteriously.

“Yup,” I confirmed.

“Sunday, wanna take you and your dad to a Rockies game. They’re in town and got a day game.”

Mystery immediately solved.

But all I could do was stare at him.

He didn’t miss me staring at him, and not only because he couldn’t, considering he was practically sitting in my lap.

“You don’t think that’s a good idea?” he asked.

“I … don’t …” I pulled it together. “I don’t think I’ve done anything fun with Dad in, uh …I don’t know. Maybe ten years.”

“Then it’s time,” he stated.

Maybe he was right.

“I’ll call and ask him.”

He nodded.

“Is there a reason why you want to take Dad to a baseball game?” I queried.

“Only that, if he’s been thinkin’ on shit, and sees that your relationship hasn’t been healthy, and sees at this time in your life, you shouldn’t be weighed down with the health and welfare of a parent, maybe you should show him it’s time to be father and daughter friends. Like you’re friends with your mom.”

Friends with my dad.

Doing something fun with my dad.

“He really likes baseball,” I said quietly. “When I was young, he’d take me to games a lot.”

On this thought, one I hadn’t had in a long time, I felt something happen in my belly.

Something weird.

Warm, but not.

Because that “not” part was scared.

“I think that’s why I like hot dogs,” I shared. “Because that was the only time he’d buy me something crappy to eat and not give me shit about it. All the pressure that seemed to be there between us wasn’t at the ball field. We’d have fun. He taught me how to keep score. He explained strategy. I wasn’t really interested in it. But I was interested in being like that with my dad.”

“Then I hit on the right thing,” Axl said softly, his eyes the same on me.

“I’ll call him,” I decided to take the risk. Give in to a little hope. Think positively when I thought about my dad for the first time since I was fourteen. “See if he’s up for it.”

Axl replied, “Good,” before he took a sip from his mug.

I did too.

And when I swallowed, I suggested, “For Cleo’s sake, maybe we should be at yours tonight.”

“I was gonna say that.”

Totally …

Compatible.

I smiled at him and asked, “Can I make you dinner?”

“You can do what you want, honey.”

My mind started whirring through ideas.

“Anything you don’t eat?” I inquired.

“Not a big fan of tomatoes and hate squash.”

When he said no more, I asked. “That’s it?”

“There a lot of food you don’t like?”

“I don’t care for tomatoes much either.”

“Celery?”

Something about the way he pinpointed that singular food item caught my attention.

“Celery?” I parroted.

“Yeah.”

“Well, fill it with peanut butter or cream cheese, it’s a relatively inconspicuous vehicle to eat peanut butter and cream cheese. That’s about all I can say about it.”

He started chuckling.

Then he asked bizarrely, “How do you feel about the polar ice caps melting?”

“I’m wholeheartedly against it.”