Page 32 of Daddy's Pride

I kiss his forehead. “These are amazing. I need to pay you for these designs.” I won’t take advantage of him like his brother does.

“No, you don’t.”

I take the laptop, close the lid, put it on the worktop, and pull Harris against me. “I’m not expecting you to work for free, boy. Let me pay you.”

“You’re letting me stay here. Do you know how much a night in a bed and breakfast plus three home-cooked meals costs? This is the least I can do to repay you.”

“Haven’t you already paid for a bed and breakfast?”

He purses his lips. “True, but that’s not your fault or your problem. You could have turned me away last night. You didn’t have to let me stay an extra day. Accept the logo designs, Daddy. Please?” He pushes onto his tiptoes and kisses me.

“You’re too generous.” I peck his lips and return to stirring our food so it doesn’t burn.

“So are you. Not that I’m complaining. I love being on the receiving end of your generosity, Daddy.” Winking, he grabs his laptop and spins away.

I turn the hob off, transfer the stir-fry into a serving dish, and carry it to the table. I fetch the wine and two glasses and pour a generous amount into each.

“Did you grow up in Lancaster?” I ask.

Harris raises his eyebrows. “You remembered.”

I smile and sip the wine.

“Yes. I was born and raised there. You must think that’s boring.”

“Why?”

“You must have seen most of the world during your time in the army.”

“It was more a case of seeing a lot of a few places.”

“Even so, I bet you’ve seen more of the world than me.”

I shrug. “Maybe. Do you like Lancaster?”

“Yes. It’s pretty and close to the seaside. They’ve been doing the promenade up in Morecambe. Trying to rejuvenate the faded splendour.”

“Is it working?”

“Eh. Kind of. As long as you face the sea and don’t turn around.”

I chuckle.

“Dinner is amazing. Thanks, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, boy.”

Harris grins and shows his appreciation for my cooking by stuffing his mouth full of stir-fry, which he washes down with a gulp of wine. “What about you, Daddy? Where are you from? Do your family live close?”

“I grew up in York. When my parents retired, they relocated to Pickering.”

Harris frowns. “I have no clue where Pickering is. Sorry.”

“West of Scarborough. South of here.”

“So, not far from here?”

“It’s closer to Scarborough than I am.”