Page 30 of Daddy's Pride

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Can you cook?”

“Yeah. As tempting as it was to live off microwave meals and takeaway, I decided it would be healthier if I learnt to cook. Mum’s one of those people who loves to feed everyone. The kitchen was her palace, and woe betide anyone who intruded when she was cooking. It was great while I lived at home, but when I left, it was like being chucked into the deep end of a pool without armbands when you can’t swim.”

“I can imagine.”

Harris picks his utensils up and eats a few mouthfuls of his lunch. I do the same, even though my appetite isn’t what it was a few minutes ago.

“You must have some idea of what you want to call this place when you reopen it,” he says.

I sigh. “No. Until a few hours ago, I’d convinced myself I’d never reopen it.”

“And now?”

“Now? I still don’t know. You’ve given me lots of fantastic ideas, but I’m not sure I have the funds to turn any of them into reality.”

“You won’t if you try to do it all at once. You need to create a business plan, showing what you’ll start with and how you’ll grow the business over time, with costings and projected earnings.”

I gape at him. “I thought you were in marketing?”

He laughs. “I am, but I helped Nigel—my brother—come up with his business plan when he wanted to open his own business, and now one of my many, many workcaps is keeping the day-to-day accounts. He pays a freelance accountant to do all the tax stuff.”

“You’re amazing.”

He blushes and dips his chin. “I’m really not.”

I lean over, cup his chin, and lift his face. “You are, boy.”

His blush intensifies, making his skin glow. “Thank you, Daddy. We can start a business plan this afternoon if you want. Or you can tell me to sod off and stop interfering.”

“You’re not interfering. You’re inspiring.”

He puts his utensils on his plate and rubs his palms over his radioactive cheeks. “Stop it, Daddy. You’re making me blush.”

“You’re beautiful when you blush.” I give him a long, lingering kiss.

As we part lips, we lock gazes. Damn, I’m going to miss him. How can he have got under my skin so completely in less than twenty-four hours?

“Names,” he says decisively and carries on eating.

I shrug. “Run for Miles?”

Harris wrinkles his nose. “That sounds more like a charity.”

“Run With Miles?”

We smile at each other and shake our heads.

“You’re right. Bad idea,” I say.

“It’s not bad. It’s just not… catchy.”

“Outdoor Warriors?”

He scrunches his lips together.

“Adventure Warriors? Ugh, this is hard.”