Worth the Fall: A Single Dad, Romantic Comedy (Flirting with Forever Book 2)

I stare at my phone for what has to be the hundredth time today, Mia’s business card propped against my laptop screen where it’s been taunting me all morning. The coffee date on Saturday keeps replaying in my mind—her laugh when she told that story about her first court appearance, the way she listened so intently to my boring contract law opinions, how natural it felt when our hands brushed reaching for the sugar.

But dating as a single dad isn’t simple. Every decision impacts Felicity. And after the way things ended with Celine, I swore I’d be more careful about bringing someone new into our lives.

Yet I can’t stop thinking about her.

‘Mr. Ramirez?’ Tarryn appears in my doorway, ever professional as she hands me another stack of files. ‘The Morrison brief needs your review by end of day.’

‘Right. Of course.’ I try to focus on the documents, but my eyes keep drifting to Mia’s card.

‘Also,’ Tarryn adds with just a hint of knowing amusement, ‘you’ve been staring at that business card for approximately forty-seven minutes.’

I feel my face warm. ‘That obvious?’

‘Only to someone who’s been watching you check your phone every three minutes since you arrived this morning. Everything okay?’

I lean back in my chair, letting out the exasperated sigh that’s been sitting just beneath surface level.

‘Oh yes, everything’s fine. Just an old man trying to navigate—’ I’m about to say the dating world but that doesn’t seem accurate. ‘Just trying to figure out how to call someone back after a professional coffee date.’ Her expression remains perfectly composed but there’s a gentle understanding in her eyes. ‘Sorry,’ I groan, ‘I know it’s not a good look to start out your new job complaining to your coworkers about your personal life.’

This time, a smirk tugs at the corner of her lip. ‘Well, the Harrison & Brooks number is on file if you need it. For professional purposes, of course.’

Professional purposes. Right.

I pick up my phone again, then set it down. Pick it up. Set it down.

‘This is pathetic,’ I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

‘For what it’s worth,’ Tarryn says quietly, ‘being careful with your heart doesn’t mean keeping it locked away forever.’

I look up, surprised by this personal insight from my usually reserved assistant. She merely gives a small, professional nod before returning to her desk, leaving me to my thoughts.

She’s right, of course. But every time I consider calling Mia, I remember how crushed Felicity was after Celine left. How she’d ask when Mommy was coming home, not understanding why her family had fractured. I swore I’d never put her through that kind of pain again.

But Mia’s different.

My phone lights up with a text from Celine about Felicity’s dance schedule and my stomach clenches with familiar guilt. The same guilt that’s kept me from pursuing anything beyond casual dates for the past year.

‘Screw it,’ I mutter, pulling up my email. I can at least reach out professionally. That’s safe. Responsible.

I type and delete three different messages before finally settling on one.

Hi, Mia,

Hope your Monday’s going well. Been thinking about those concerning clauses you mentioned in Cameron’s contract. I have some experience with similar issues if you’d like a second opinion. Happy to review it with you after work hours if you’re free.

Sincerely… too sterile.

Professionally… too professional. Shit.

Warmly,

Miguel

I hit send before I can overthink it, then immediately regret every word. Too formal? Not formal enough? Should I have⁠—

My phone buzzes less than a minute later with her response and my heart actually skips a beat.

I’m typing back ‘Yes’ embarrassingly fast when another text from her comes through.

And just like that, I’m grinning like an idiot at my phone again.

The rest of the day crawls by in an endless parade of meetings and briefs that I can barely focus on. Every time the elevator dings, my eyes dart to my office door before I can stop myself.

‘Your three o’clock canceled,’ Tarryn informs me midafternoon, her eyes flickering briefly to where I’ve straightened my tie for the fourth time in an hour. ‘Perhaps we should discuss moving the Morrison review to tomorrow morning? When you might be more… focused?’

‘Am I that obvious?’

‘Only to someone who’s watched you rearrange your desk twelve times since lunch.’ Her expression remains professionally neutral, but I catch that glint of amusement again. ‘And for the record, part of my job as an assistant is to predict your next move by being so observant. Anything I can do to help? Another cup of chamomile?’

I tug at my collar, which does feel unusually tight. ‘Thanks, Tarryn, but I’ll be okay. And thanks again—for being so on top of things. Just a lot on my mind today.’

By six, I’ve convinced myself this was a terrible idea. I’m setting myself up to be her ex’s new lawyer, technically. There have to be ethical considerations. Professional boundaries. Something that makes this a bad⁠—

‘Hi.’

I look up and there she is, leaning against my doorframe in a pencil skirt and cream blouse that makes my mouth go dry. Her hair’s coming loose from its clip, strawberry-blond strands framing her face in a way that makes me want to reach out and⁠—

‘Earth to Miguel?’ She grins, waving a hand. ‘You okay there?’

‘Hi,’ I blurt out. ‘I’m fine!’ I stand too quickly, nearly knocking over my chair. ‘Just… focused. On contracts. Legal things.’

‘Legal things,’ she repeats slowly, fighting a smile. ‘Very professional.’

‘Would you like to…’ I gesture vaguely at the chairs in front of my desk, then reconsider. Too formal. The couch by the window? Too intimate. Why didn’t I think this through better?

She solves my dilemma by perching on the edge of my desk instead, close enough that I catch a hint of her perfume. Something light and floral that makes it hard to remember why this was supposed to be about contracts.

‘So.’ She pulls out her iPad, but I notice her hands aren’t quite steady. ‘About those concerning clauses…’

I try to focus on the contract displayed on her iPad, but all I can think about is how close she’s sitting, how her knee is almost brushing mine as she leans in to point out specific passages. The office feels somehow smaller, warmer.

‘See here?’ She taps the screen, and I force myself to concentrate on the words instead of how her hair falls forward when she tilts her head. ‘The language is deliberately vague about performance metrics, but when you cross-reference it with section 4.2…’

‘It creates a loophole,’ I finish, finally engaging with the actual legal issue. ‘They could technically void the entire agreement based on subjective criteria.’

‘Exactly!’ She turns toward me, eyes bright with that passionate intensity I remember from our coffee date. ‘Cameron always gets excited about new projects without reading the fine print, but this could seriously impact his⁠—’

She stops abruptly, realizing how close we’ve gotten. I can see the faint dusting of freckles across her nose, count each flutter of her eyelashes. The air between us feels charged, electric.

‘His… business interests,’ she finishes softly, not moving away.

‘We should probably…’ I clear my throat, trying to remember why we’re supposed to be talking about contracts. ‘The modification clause in section five…’

‘Right.’ She blinks, then shifts slightly. Not quite moving back, but not quite staying as close either. ‘Professional discussion.’

‘Professional,’ I echo, even as my eyes drift to her lips.

The evening light filtering through the office windows casts a soft glow across them, and I’m finding it harder by the second to focus on the legal language in front of me. My hand brushes hers as I point out another clause, and the simple contact sends heat racing up my arm.

She’s close enough that I can feel her warmth, smell her her perfume again that makes me want to bury my face in her neck. The way she bites her lower lip in concentration is driving me insane, and I have to force myself to remember we’re here to work.

‘I should go,’ I say, but my feet refuse to move toward the door, even though this is my office. It’s the only thing I can think to bring any rationality to myself. When she looks up at me, her green eyes dark in the dim light, all my carefully constructed professional boundaries start to crumble.

‘You should,’ she agrees softly, but there’s something in her voice that pulls me closer instead of away. The space between us feels electric, charged with building tension.

Before I can stop myself, I’m stepping into her space, close enough to see the slight hitch in her breathing. ‘Or…’ My voice comes out rougher than intended. ‘We could discuss this further.’

‘The contract?’ Her attempt at professionalism falters, her voice breathy in a way that makes my blood run hot.

‘No.’ I can’t resist anymore—my hand comes up to cup her face, my thumb tracing her bottom lip. ‘Not the contract.’

The building’s evening cleaning service chooses that moment to start vacuuming outside my office, shattering the tension. Mia jumps slightly, almost dropping her iPad, and I catch it reflexively. Our hands brush and that same spark from the coffee shop jolts through me.

‘Thanks,’ she murmurs, but neither of us moves to break the contact.

‘We should—’ I start.

‘Maybe we could—’ she says at the same time.

We both laugh, breaking some of the tension, but our hands are still touching, and I swear I can feel her pulse racing as fast as mine.

‘You first,’ I manage, trying to sound more composed than I feel.

She bites her lip, drawing my attention right back to her mouth. ‘I was thinking maybe we could discuss this somewhere else? Somewhere more…’ Her eyes dart to the vacuum cleaner still droning outside. ‘Quiet?’

‘Yes,’ I say too quickly, then try to rein it in. ‘I mean, if you want to. For the contract review.’

‘Right. The contract.’ Her thumb brushes across my knuckles where our hands are still connected over her iPad. ‘Very professional.’

The cleaning cart rattles past my door and she startles again, this time actually dropping the iPad. We both reach for it, bumping heads in the process.

‘Sorry!’ we say in unison, then laugh again.

She’s so close now, practically between my legs as we both crouch to retrieve the tablet. When she looks up at me through her lashes, that professional veneer cracking just enough to show she’s as affected as I am, all my careful restraint starts to crumble.

‘Mia,’ I say softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face before I can stop myself. ‘Maybe we should talk about⁠—’

A sharp knock at my door has us jumping apart like guilty teenagers.

Tarryn stands in the doorway, maintaining her perfect professionalism despite the obvious tension in the room. ‘Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Ramirez, but security is doing their final walkthrough and I’m heading out. They need to know if you’ll be much longer.’

‘We were just…’ I gesture vaguely at the iPad now clutched against Mia’s chest, her cheeks flushed pink.

‘Reviewing contracts,’ she finishes quickly, smoothing her skirt as she stands. ‘Very thorough review. Of contracts.’

‘Of course,’ Tarryn says smoothly, though I catch that knowing glint in her eye again. ‘Should I inform them you’ll need more time for your… contract review?’

‘No!’ we both say too quickly.

‘We could…’ I look at Mia, trying to find the right words that won’t sound too forward but also won’t let this evening end here. ‘There’s a place around the corner. For coffee. If you wanted to continue our discussion.’

‘Coffee would be good,’ she says softly, meeting my eyes with a smile that makes my heart flip. ‘Professional coffee. For contract purposes.’

‘Purely professional,’ I agree, even as my hand finds the small of her back after we gather our things.

The elevator ride down is charged with everything we’re not saying. She stands close enough that our arms brush, and each point of contact sends electricity through me. We’re both pretending to check our phones, but I catch her stealing glances at me in the reflective doors.

‘Your tie is crooked,’ she murmurs just before the doors open, reaching up to straighten it. Her fingers graze my neck and my breath catches. But she doesn’t linger. Instead, she turns and steps off the elevator, and I fall in step beside her.

The coffee shop is quiet this late, just a few other patrons scattered at corner tables. We find a booth tucked away from the main counter, and suddenly the professional pretense feels paper-thin.

The lights are dim, and I can barely tear my eyes away from her as I reach for the water carafe. When our fingers brush while I’m filling her glass, electricity shoots through me. I’ve never been so attuned to another person’s presence—every small movement she makes draws me in like a magnet.

‘How’s the drink?’ I ask, my voice rougher than intended, betraying my desire. I watch her lips curve around the rim of her glass, and my grip tightens on the stem of my own drink. Everything about her demands my attention—the delicate line of her throat, the way her hair falls softly around her face, how her cheeks flush when our eyes meet.

‘Perfect,’ she breathes, and I notice her watching my hands as I take a sip. The way she looks at me, like she’s imagining those same hands on her body, makes my blood run hot. I want to reach across this table and show her exactly what these hands can do.

I catch her staring and can’t help the dark hunger that rises in my eyes. The space between us feels charged, almost unbearable. I let my leg brush against hers under the table, a deliberate test of control, and feel her shiver in response.

She’s overwhelming every one of my senses—the subtle floral scent of her perfume drawing me closer, the way her dress hugs her curves, how my name sounds different when it falls from her lips. It’s intoxicating, and I’m drowning willingly.

‘So,’ she says, fiddling with her coffee sleeve, ‘those contract clauses…’

‘Mia.’ Her name comes out rougher than I intend, and her eyes snap to mine. ‘I didn’t ask you here to review contracts just to review contracts.’

She lets out a shaky breath. ‘I didn’t say yes just to review contracts either.’

The honesty hangs between us, changing everything and nothing all at once. I reach across the table, running my thumb across her knuckles where her hands are wrapped around her cup.

‘This feels…’ she starts.

‘Complicated?’ I offer.

‘I was going to say inevitable.’ Her fingers intertwine with mine. ‘But complicated works too.’

‘I have to think about Felicity,’ I say quietly, even as my thumb traces patterns on her palm. ‘She’s my whole world.’

‘I know.’ She squeezes my hand. ‘She should be. That’s part of why I…’ She trails off, blushing.

‘Part of why you what?’

‘Part of why I can’t stop thinking about you,’ she admits softly. ‘The way you are with her, how your whole face lights up when you talk about her… it’s beautiful.’

The simple honesty in her words hits me right in the chest. I’ve dated since Celine, but no one’s ever understood that Felicity isn’t just part of the package—she’s the whole point. ‘There’s something here,’ I say quietly, gesturing between us. ‘Something real. And it terrifies me because it’s not just my heart I have to protect anymore.’

‘I know.’ She traces the lines on my palm absently. ‘And I have my own baggage. Twelve years is a long time to be with someone. To plan a whole future and then have to start over.’

‘So, maybe’—I shift closer, drawn to her like gravity—’we take it slow. Figure it out together.’

‘Together,’ she repeats, testing the word. ‘I’d like that.’

The coffee shop lights dim, signaling closing time, but neither of us moves. Her hand is still in mine, and something has fundamentally shifted between us. No more pretending this is just about contracts or coffee or coincidence.

‘Walk you to your ride?’ I ask, reluctant to end the evening but knowing we both have early mornings ahead.

Outside, the night air is cool but I barely notice, too focused on how naturally her hand fits in mine as we walk. At her ride, she turns to face me, and the streetlight catches the gold in her hair.

‘Thank you,’ she says softly, ‘for finding an excuse to see me again.’

‘Thank you for saying yes.’ I reach up, finally allowing myself to brush that loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath catches at the contact.

‘Miguel,’ she whispers, and the way she says my name undoes me. I lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away, but she meets me halfway.

When I finally kiss her, it’s like a dam breaking. All the careful restraint, all the professional distance I’ve tried to maintain dissolves in an instant. The first brush of her lips against mine is soft, questioning. The second is anything but. My fingers tangle in her soft hair as I back her against the wall, swallowing her gasp with my mouth. The feel of her body pressing against mine is better than any fantasy.

‘Miguel,’ she breathes against my lips, her hands fisting in my shirt.

I reach behind her without breaking contact, tugging her body tightly against mine as I slip my tongue farther into her mouth. The way she tugs me closer by my tie pulls a growl from deep in my chest. This woman is going to be the death of me.

‘You drive me crazy,’ I confess, trailing kisses down her throat. The professional facade she wears like armor is cracking, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. ‘Looking so put together in those suits, all I can think about is messing you up.’

Her breath catches, and I feel the way her body responds, arching into mine. ‘Then do it,’ she challenges, nipping at my bottom lip. ‘Make me forget all about being professional.’

Something dark and possessive coils in my gut at her words. ‘Careful what you wish for, Counselor.’ I know I’m playing with fire, that this crosses every line we’ve drawn, but with her pressed against me like this, I can’t bring myself to care.

Her hands slide up my chest, and I can feel her heart racing to match mine. Every rational thought I have is drowned out by the need to taste her, touch her, make her come apart in my arms.

‘What I wish for,’ she says, her voice low and full of promise, ‘is for you to stop thinking so much and kiss me again.’

Who am I to deny such a compelling legal argument?

She tastes like the most delicious fucking temptation, and when her hands slide up my chest to grip my tie, I forget every reason why we’re supposed to be taking this slow.

We break apart only when a car alarm startles us, both laughing breathlessly.

‘Seems fitting,’ she says, smoothing my tie where she’d gripped it. ‘Our moments keep getting interrupted by emergency responses.’

‘I’m starting to think it’s our thing.’ I press one more quick kiss to her lips, unable to help myself. ‘Good night, Mia.’

‘Good night.’ She smiles that smile that’s been haunting me since the pickleball courts. ‘Call me tomorrow?’

‘Count on it.’

I help her into her cab and watch the car drive away, already missing her warmth, but feeling more certain than I have in a long time. This thing between us, it’s worth the risk. Worth the complications. Worth figuring out how to balance everything.

My phone buzzes with a text as I reach my car.

I grin as I type back.

Her response is immediate.

And just like that, I’m already planning how soon I can see her again, how to introduce her properly to Felicity, how to do this right. Because something tells me this is just the beginning of something amazing.

Felicity’s voice carries across the preschool parking lot, loud enough to draw a few smiles from other parents at morning drop-off.

“Daddy! Look!” she shouts, waving her sparkly tiara in the air as I crouch to help her out of the car.

“You’ve got to keep this safe, princess,” I tell her, tucking it carefully into her cubby bag. “Remember, no tiara during finger painting.”

“I know, Daddy,” she says with exaggerated seriousness, giving me a thumbs-up.

As we head toward the school entrance, I spot Celine’s sleek black car pulling into the lot. My jaw tightens reflexively. She doesn’t usually do morning drop-offs, but it’s not unheard of. Maybe Felicity left behind one of her favorite stuffies at her mother’s house.

“Mommy!” Felicity squeals, dropping my hand and running toward her mother.

Celine steps out of the car, looking immaculate as always in a tailored gray coat and heels that click sharply against the pavement. She bends to scoop Felicity up, kissing her cheek before glancing at me.

“Good morning, Miguel,” she says smoothly, her tone clipped but polite.

“Celine,” I reply with a nod, adjusting Felicity’s bag on my shoulder.

“You’re running late,” she remarks, straightening. Her eyes sweep over me, lingering on the slightly wrinkled shirt Felicity’s sticky hands had tugged on earlier. “Busy morning?”

I ignore the jab. “Just making sure Felicity gets to class on time.”

“Of course,” she says, setting Felicity down. “Go on inside, sweetheart. I’ll see you later okay? Mommy loves you soooo much.” She glows her a dramatic kiss which Felicity reciprocates.

“Bye daddy, love you!”

Felicity hugs her bag to her chest and runs toward the school entrance, waving back at both of us. Once she’s out of earshot, Celine turns to me, crossing her arms.

“So, I heard you’re seeing someone.”

The words catch me off guard, and I’m careful to keep my expression neutral. “Where did you hear that?”

“So you don’t deny it?”

“I didn’t say that. Who said something to you?”

“Felicity mentioned a… Mia, was it?” Her lips curve slightly, like she’s already judging the answer.

”She’s a friend.” My tone is firm, but even I can hear the hesitation.

Celine raises an eyebrow. “A friend you’re spending enough time with for Felicity to notice. That’s… interesting.”

“I don’t think this is any of your business,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “Just like it wasn’t your business to show up at the coffee shop I was at with her the other day.”

“Oh please, you know that was about Felicity needing her⁠—”

“When we agreed to keep our locations on after the divorce, it was for Felicity’s safety, not so you can just show up unbalanced wherever I am—without our daughter even present.”

She takes a step closer, her expression softening in a way I know is calculated. “Miguel, I’m just trying to look out for Felicity. She’s already adjusting to so many changes. The last thing she needs is confusion.”

“Confusion?” I echo, the word leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “She’s fine, Celine. If anything, she’s handling all of this better than either of us.”

“I’m just saying, maybe it’s too soon to be introducing someone new into her life.”

I clench my jaw, swallowing the sharp reply bubbling up. Instead, I let out a slow breath and meet her gaze. “Mia isn’t part of Felicity’s life. She’s part of mine. That’s a distinction you don’t get to control anymore.”

For a moment, Celine’s mask slips, her mouth tightening at the edges. But she recovers quickly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Fine. Just don’t forget where your priorities are, Miguel.”

Without waiting for a response, she turns and walks back to her car, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement.

I stand there for a moment, watching as she drives away, my hands curling into fists at my sides.

By the time I get back to my car, my phone buzzes with a message from Mia.

I stare at the text, the knot in my chest loosening slightly. Whatever Celine says, she doesn’t get to dictate how I move forward.

I type back quickly, a smile sliding naturally into place when I think about her.