Down Too Deep (Dirty Deeds, #4)(65)

I steadied Marley when she stood on my thighs. Then I looked over at Jenna. She was still smiling, listening to whoever she was on the phone with.

Shit, was it him? That motherfucking “family friend”?

“O’ver! O’ver!” Marley squirmed out of my hold. She climbed down and hurried over to the love seat with her turtle. Then she stood next to Oliver’s shoulder and watched his screen.

I heard a rustling sound and looked beside me.

Olivia pulled that same notepad she was always bringing over out of her duffle. She shoved her iPad away, dropping her bag on the floor. Then she clicked a pen open and steadied it on a blank page, eyes finding mine and mouth opening, readying to fire a million questions at me.

She did this a lot. And I never had any issues answering her. Olivia’s questions were harmless. It was more about my opinion on things, not anything personal. The questions were typically random too, jumping from topic to topic. Although, I had a pretty good idea what the theme was going to be tonight.

“Do you like going out on dates, Nate?”

I threw my arm behind her and rested it on the back of the couch. “Sure. Who doesn’t like dates?”

“What kind of dates do you like?”

“Dinner. Maybe a movie. It depends.”

She nodded thoughtfully and scribbled down her notes.

I kept my eyes from straining to the page. I figured if Olivia wanted me knowing what all she wrote down about me, she’d eventually share it.

“Depends on what the girl wants, right?” she asked. “My uncle Brian says boys should always do whatever the girl wants to do, even if they don’t like it.”

“That’s true, they should.” When she looked up at me, I asked, “What about your mom? What kind of dates does she like?” Might as well use this Q&A to my advantage. I could always store this information for later.

Olivia’s eyes lit up. She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Oh, like, all kinds. She loves going out to dinner. But she doesn’t like going to the movies.”

“No?”

“No. She thinks they’re gross. Everyone puts their heads on the seats and they might have lice. You could catch it.”

I snorted. “Well, I think the risk of that happening is pretty slim.”

“It happened to Oliver.” Olivia nodded slowly when my eyes flickered wider. “We were six. Mom swears he got it from the movie theater. We had to wash everything. And she made us all put that special shampoo on our heads, not just Oliver. I had to do it too.” She glanced down at the page. “Did you ever get lice when you were a little kid?”

“No.” I gestured at the notepad as she scribbled my answer. “I don’t currently have it either, if you’d like to make a note of that as well.”

“I’m just going to put no, if that’s okay.”

“I guess that’s fine.”

“I think it is.” Olivia finished writing and peered up at me. “Um, my mom…” She paused, thinking over her next words. Then she scooted closer on the cushion until she was pressed up against me. Her voice softened to a whisper. “My mom said Marley’s mom died. So…who do you go out on dates with now?”

“Nobody.”

“Oh.” Her eyes filled with sadness.

I didn’t want this upsetting her. We always had a good time doing this. She’d ask questions. I’d answer them. She’d always smile. I wanted Olivia smiling now. And, obviously, I’d do a lot to keep this girl happy. Like tell her how excited I was about some guy taking her mother out.

“How about we go out sometime?” I proposed, thinking Olivia might like that idea. “You can be my date.”

She quickly nodded her head. She was back to grinning now. “Okay! We can go to the movies. That’s where I’d want to go.”

“Really? You’re not afraid to get lice?”

“Nope. I like bugs.”

I chuckled. When Marley moved down the couch again and tried climbing into my lap, I picked her up. She stood on my thighs and bounced her turtle in the air.

“Marley can go with us,” Olivia suggested sweetly.

“Yeah?” I looked at my daughter. “Just me and my girls—what do you think, sweetheart? You in?”

Marley tossed her turtle at my face. She squealed when I pulled her closer.

“I’m not sure how to take that,” I grumbled, kissing her cheek. I felt Olivia scoot away from me, and when I turned to look at her, she had her back pressed against the arm of the couch so she was sitting sideways now, her legs stretched out between us and her toes digging into my leg. She frantically flipped through the pages of her notepad, settled on one and smiled when she found it. Then she quickly jotted something down.

When she peered up at me, I narrowed my eyes and asked, “What are you writing?”

“Nothing!” she shrieked, flattening the notepad against her stomach.

She broke into laughter when I wrapped my hand around her knee and gently tugged her closer. I squeezed her side until she twisted and squealed. Marley crawled over her, the two of them giggling. It was really fucking cute.

“I’m going to go talk to your mom,” I said, standing from the couch.

“Okay.” Olivia closed her notepad and swapped it out for her iPad again. She climbed on the cushion beside Marley.