Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Della

Now I knew where Katy had picked up the language.

“Daddy.” Her eyes widened.

“Shit—shoot. Sorry.” Jeff ran a hand over his mouth, like he was trying to erase the slips. “Katy, wait in the hallway.”

The second he pointed to the doorway, she slid out of her chair and picked up the backpack resting at her feet. There was an odd look on her face that I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t a smile, not exactly. But it was a smile, sort of.

It was as baffling as her cussing. Katy was not the girl to cause a scene. Up until this week, she’d always been a perfect student.

She was about to scamper away, but before she could leave, Jeff stopped her. “Wait.”

Katy looked up at him and they shared an unspoken conversation. Her shoulders drooped. That non-smile smile vanished. Then she turned to me, apology and sincerity written all over her cute face. “I’m very sorry, Miss Adler. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Thank you, Katy.”

She walked out of the room, rounding the corner. Then came the thud of her backpack hitting the floor.

Jeff stood, taking a step toward my desk. Wow, he was tall. Long legs. Narrow waist. That Carhartt coat only accentuated the width of his broad shoulders. “I’m sorry. For her language. And especially mine.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I quite enjoyed a well-placed fuck . Just not from sixth graders.

“Thanks for calling me, Miss Adler.”

“Della,” I corrected. Most parents called me by my first name. “And you’re welcome. This is totally out of character for her. Is there something going on at home?”

“She hates her hair.” He sighed. “It feels too early for her to hate her hair, but what do I know? At her age, all I cared about was sports.”

“Middle school is hard.” So was high school, for boys and girls both. “But there’s no big change or something that might be causing this behavior?”

“Not that I know of. Unless something is happening at her mother’s house. But she hasn’t been there for a few weeks. My ex wasn’t feeling well last week so Katy stayed with me.”

“Maybe she misses her mom then?”

Jeff huffed. Not a yes or a no. Just a huff before he dipped his chin. “I’ll talk to her. Make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

With a nod, he walked across my classroom to join his daughter in the hallway.

My eyes tracked his every step, taking in his wide frame and the strength of his thighs as they flexed beneath those tan carpenter pants. There was a surety to his steps, not a swagger but a confident stride. And hot damn , he had arguably the most perfect ass I’d ever seen.

Curved and muscled and begging to be sq—

Whoa whoa whoa. No, Della. My gaze slammed onto the linoleum floor. What was I doing?

Never in my career had I fantasized about a parent. Never, ever. And here I was drooling over Jeff’s ass? What was wrong with me?

Maybe because he’d taken me by surprise. I just hadn’t expected him to be so handsome.

From his dark hair to the straight nose and full lips. He had a rugged, stubbled jaw and a gravelly voice.

No excuses. He was Katy’s father and there were boundaries. So I stood from my chair, shaking my head, hoping to pop my thoughts back into appropriate territory. Okay, so Jeff was hot. So what? That didn’t change the fact that he was entirely off-limits.

Maybe I should have called her mother. Only Katy had told me her mom was sick and this week, she was with her dad. I’d expected to meet, well…a regular dad. Not a man who could be a ranch-wear model.

I crept toward the door, drawn closer by that masculine timbre as he spoke to Katy.

Lingering by the door frame, I peered into the hall. Katy leaned against a row of navy lockers.

Jeff had dropped to a knee in front of her so they could talk at eye level. “Okay, Dandelion. What’s going on?”

Dandelion . He called her Dandelion. My hand pressed to my heart. That nickname was as adorable now as it had been when I’d learned it minutes ago.

“It just slipped out.” Katy shrugged. “You cuss all the time.”

“Yeah. But I’m an adult,” he said. “You know there are words you’re not allowed to say until you’re old enough. Besides, aren’t you busting me every five minutes, making me fill the cuss jar whenever I slip up?”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

He put his hand on her cheek. “This is not okay.”

“I know.”

Katy’s behavior this week had been a complete shock. She was normally so sweet. Innocent. Smart and diligent with her studies. Not that I’d ever admit it, but she was my favorite student, which was why I hadn’t sent this straight to the vice principal. I didn’t want this on her official record. If it happened again, we’d have to have a different conversation, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

Jeff’s thumb stroked her cheek before he ran his palm over her hair. “Never again, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

The gentleness and attention he gave her was as adorable as her nickname. And surprising. Maybe that was why I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Jeff. After what Katy’s mother had told me, the mental picture I’d created for Jeff seemed very different than reality.

Rosalie and I had met at the beginning of the year when she’d brought Katy to orientation. We’d visited for a few minutes, and Rosalie had seemed kind. Appreciative. But when Katy had gone out to test the combination of her locker, Rosalie had warned me that Jeff wouldn’t be involved. What was the word she’d used? Deadbeat .

He didn’t seem like a deadbeat. Not in the slightest.

“What’s your punishment?” he asked her.

Katy tapped a finger to her chin. “Dishes for, um…five days.”

He narrowed his eyes. “It’s pretty bad when a teacher calls a dad.”

“A week of dishes?”

Jeff shook his head. “A week of dishes and all the laundry. Mine included.”

“Eww.” She scrunched up her nose. “Your stuff is so smelly.”

“Maybe after a week of dealing with my stinky socks, you’ll remember to watch that mouth in school, huh?”

Katy heaved a sigh. “Okay.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. Also sexy.

Apparently everything he did was hot.

He crooked his finger, and she flew into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Yep, that was attractive too.

He held her like she was his entire world, loved more than she’d ever know.

As Jeff let her go and stood, holding out his hand for hers, I stepped into the hallway. “See you tomorrow, Katy.”

She gave me a finger wave. “Bye, Miss Adler.”

“Thanks,” Jeff said.

“Bye.” I lingered beside the lockers as they started down the hallway, watching as he slowed to let his daughter set the pace.

Don’t check him out. Don’t check him out.

That ass was like a magnet, drawing my focus. It really was perfect.

A throat cleared.

I jumped, whirling. Luka hovered beside my shoulder. “H-hi.”

He smirked. “Admiring the view?”

“Stop.” I elbowed him in the ribs, hoping he wouldn’t notice my flaming cheeks. “They’re cute together.”

“How’s your day going?”

“Good, actually.” After I’d called Jeff, I’d prepared for the worst. Most parent meetings were a foolproof way to ruin an otherwise nice day. But that meeting had been a breeze. “How is your day?”

Luka clapped his hands together, rubbing them as he gave me an evil grin. “Pop quiz for my class after lunch.”

“You get far too much enjoyment from torturing your students.”

“Probably.” He winked, the same devilish wink he’d been giving me since college.

Was it flirting? I’d been trying to figure that out for a decade.

Luka dragged a hand through his dark blond hair. No matter how often he combed it with his fingers, it always seemed to lie down in the perfect place.

He’d been born and raised in Montana but would pass as a professional surfer without question. He had a tall, strong frame ripped with muscle. The tousled hairstyle. The cocky smirk. The sparkling blue eyes. All he was missing at the moment was a tan.

But he practically lived outside in the summers. Sooner or later, he’d have that tan. Maybe this year, I wouldn’t drool over him shirtless.

“See you at home?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m swinging by the store after work. Need anything?”

“Condoms.”

“Luka.” I poked his rib, giving him a scowl as he laughed.

Was he joking about the condoms? I couldn’t tell.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said. “Highly recommend working in a pop quiz.”

“I pity your students.”

His chuckle filled the hallway as he walked away, his long strides lazy and confident.

Luka had a swagger. And for years, it had made me swoon.

But as Jeff slowly meandered with his daughter, I couldn’t decide which stride I liked best. My arrogant roommate and friend. Or the dad who shortened his steps so his daughter didn’t have to rush hers.

I let myself take one last glance at Jeff’s muscled behind before I sighed and retreated to my classroom for the remainder of my day. Unlike Luka, I preferred smiles on my students’ faces over looks of terror. I lived for the engaging discussions and peeks inside their blossoming minds.

Middle schoolers always had a way of surprising me. They rarely said what I expected and they didn’t miss much. This was the age when sarcasm bloomed.

Katy Dawson had a dry humor. Why did I have a feeling she’d learned it from her dad?

The remainder of my classes went smoothly. When the last bell chorused through the hallways, it was followed by the explosion of kids racing for their lockers. I waited until the noise subsided, the kids streaming outside for buses and activities, then did a few final tasks before grabbing my coat and heading outside myself.

My trip to the grocery store was efficient. I breezed through the aisles, snagging every item on my list—refusing to go anywhere near the condoms.

Luka and I were…complicated. For years, more than I was willing to admit, I’d held out hope that one day he’d see me. Want me.

Those hopes had faded lately. Once upon a time, my feelings for Luka had been as vibrant as a rainbow, iridescent strokes in a blue sky. Now they were hazy, like a fog had rolled in and cast everything in gray.

So now he was just my friend. A coworker. A roommate.

At twenty-eight, living with a roommate wasn’t ideal. But Bozeman real estate was ridiculously expensive, and I was on a teacher’s salary. Some of the other single teachers lived in neighboring towns where rent was cheaper, but I didn’t want a thirty- or forty-minute commute on icy winter roads. Plus, I loved Bozeman. It was trendy and charming.

So two years ago, when I’d gotten sick of living in a college neighborhood, dealing with keg parties and midnight antics, Luka and I had moved in together.

Our two-bedroom house was in downtown Bozeman, in a neighborhood full of young families and single retirees. Most people assumed Luka and I were a couple.

I liked that. Or I had, once.

The neighbors who did think we were together had clearly missed the unending stream of women that flowed in and out of Luka’s bedroom. Either he was just that good about sneaking his hookups in and out of the door, or they thought he was a pig cheating on me.

Maybe both.

Sooner rather than later, I needed to move. With every passing day, I itched to change my address. This living arrangement was only supposed to be temporary until I saved up some cash for a down payment on my own place. Splitting bills with Luka, the cheap rent, meant that with every paycheck, my savings account was growing.

But my balance just wasn’t enough. Not yet.

I parked my mint-green Jeep Wrangler on the street outside the house, then I looped my grocery bags over my forearms and made my way inside, stomping the snow off my shoes in the entryway.

“Della?” Luka called. “That you?”

“Who else would it be?” I asked, shuffling to the kitchen, plopping bags on the counter.

He rounded the corner from his bedroom dressed in a pair of gray sweats and a Montana State University hoodie. “How was the store?”

“Fine.” I unbagged a bunch of bananas, setting them on the counter while he put a carton of eggs and a bag of shredded cheese in the refrigerator.

We worked in tandem, emptying the bags. Two people who’d lived with each other for years. Two people who’d known each other long enough to feel entirely comfortable in our bubble.

Maybe too comfortable. Too stagnant.

“No condoms?” he asked, peering in the last plastic sack.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re exhausting.”

He chuckled. “But you love me anyway.”

“Love?” Yes. In the past. But now? “Maybe. Maybe not.”

He smiled wider. It had become this little game of mine, letting my inner thoughts come loose, just to see if he realized they weren’t as sarcastic as I made them out to be.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

I plucked the receipt from my purse and handed it over.

He did the quick math, then went to the whiteboard we’d hung on the wall, adding forty-seven dollars and sixteen cents to his column. As part of our living arrangement, we’d decided to split utilities and food equally.

Like we were a couple. That whiteboard had become a constant reminder of what we shared. And what we didn’t.

But we weren’t a couple. He’d made that clear.

“Okay, I’m going to change and then—” Before I could offer to make dinner, the front door opened.

“Luka?” A female voice drifted from the entryway.

My eyes shot to his.

He just shrugged and went to meet his guest.

No wonder he’d called out for me. He’d been expecting someone else.

A leggy blond with striking blue eyes stood at his side when he returned to the kitchen.

“Oh, uh, hi.” She gave me a finger wave with the hand not linked with Luka’s. God, she was young. Probably a senior in college.

“Hi.” Why hadn’t I grabbed a bottle of wine at the store?

Luka didn’t bother introducing her, if he even remembered her name. He just jerked his chin to the hallway, his silent cue that they were disappearing to his bedroom.

My stomach knotted as they vanished. The dull click of his door echoed down the hall, followed by her muted giggle.

They always giggled.

When would this stop bothering me? When was I going to get over him?

Another giggle.

“Not today,” I muttered, sweeping my purse from the counter. Then I walked to the door, slamming it too hard before I stomped to the Jeep.

So much for dinner at home. At least I had a good alternative.

On nights when Luka and his sexcapades drove me from the house, I retreated to my favorite café in Bozeman.

The Maysen Jar.

My junior year at Montana State, when I’d been buried beneath a mountain of credits, I’d struggled to find a place to study. The library had lost its appeal when I’d found Luka and another girl from the education program making out on the third floor. So I’d decided to break free from campus and find a place of my own.

Three coffee shops later, I’d been about to suffer at the library, but then I’d stumbled upon The Maysen Jar. I’d been coming back ever since.

After parking the Jeep, I made my way inside the restaurant, breathing in the scent of cinnamon, sugar and vanilla.

The building itself had once been a mechanic’s garage, until Poppy Goodman—Maysen, until she’d married her husband—took the place and transformed it into a charming café.

The red brick walls stretched to the ceiling, the ductwork exposed to give it an industrial flair. The original garage doors had been replaced with a row of tall black-paned windows. My shoes, wet from the snow outside, squeaked on the hickory herringbone wood floor as I made my way down the center aisle, passing black tables and chairs filled with happy customers.

“Hey, Della.” Poppy waved from behind the counter at the back of the café. Her smile was contagious. An instant mood lift.

“Hi.” I pulled out a wooden stool, taking a seat beside her daughter, leaning over my former student’s shoulder to see what she was studying. Math. I nudged her elbow with mine, earning a smile as bright as her mother’s.

MacKenna plucked out her earbuds and stretched out her arm for a sideways hug. “Hi, Miss Adler.”

“Hey. Heard you had a pop quiz in math today.”

“Yeah.” She groaned, tucking a lock of loose, brown curls behind her ear. “Mr. Hollister.”

Luka wasn’t exactly beloved by his students. Not that he seemed to care. If he did, well…he hadn’t shared those feelings with me. Maybe he preferred to confide in the blond during their postcoital pillow talk.

I fought a lip curl, focusing on MacKenna. “Hanging with your mom tonight?”

“Yeah. Dad took Brady to basketball.”

Poppy’s husband, Cole, was a cop in Bozeman. Their son Brady was still in fifth grade, but I was keeping my fingers crossed that I’d have him in my class next year.

MacKenna had been my favorite student last year. Like Katy Dawson was this year. And I had a hunch Brady would be next.

“Can I get you anything, Della?” Poppy asked.

“Surprise me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I tried something tonight and MacKenna agreed to be my test subject. But I always love more opinions.”

“You know I’ll always be a test subject.” It wasn’t the first time she’d let me eat one of her experiments. They were always delicious and always ended up on the menu.

“They’re in the back oven. I’ll check if it’s ready.” Poppy held up a finger, then turned and disappeared through the swinging door that led to the kitchen, her sleek red ponytail swishing across her back.

“Okay, so what are we working on?” I leaned my forearms on the counter, inching closer to MacKenna to see what homework she was tackling.

The two of us powered through not only her math assignments from Luka but also her social studies homework and her latest grammar worksheet from her seventh-grade English teacher—her most boring teacher, MacKenna’s words, not mine.

While we worked, we ate Poppy’s latest creation, a vegetable lasagna with a creamy white sauce that was, as expected, perfection. Time passed in a blur and when I finally left them to close the restaurant for the evening, I felt lighter. Only that lightness was short-lived. With every block closer to home, unease twisted my stomach.

Luka’s date would be gone, right? He rarely let them spend the night.

Regardless, it shouldn’t be like this. A woman shouldn’t dread going home because her roommate was screwing his latest conquest.

I parked in my usual spot in front of the house. Since it was Luka’s house, he parked in the garage. My Jeep was alone on the street, and fingers crossed, that meant his guest was gone. Bracing for giggles or the sound of his headboard smacking the wall, I inched through the front door.

Luka lounged on the living room couch, phone in hand, dressed in the same sweats from earlier. His hair was damp.

He liked to shower immediately after sex.

“Didn’t mean to chase you from the house.” He gave me an apologetic smile. “She left.”

“It’s fine.” I waved it off. Was it fine?

Maybe. Maybe not.

A year ago, I would have retreated to my room to wallow. Five years ago, there would have been tears. But tonight, I just didn’t have the energy. So I made my way to the couch, sinking into the buttery leather and pulling a throw across my lap before snagging the remote.

“I was going to use that blanket,” he said.

“Snooze, you lose, Hollister.”

He chuckled as I turned on the television. “Nothing girly.”

“We’re watching The Parent Trap . The original with Hayley Mills.”

Luka hated this movie. But like his pop quizzes, it was my form of torture. He felt guilty for the blond, so he’d stay on this couch and watch until the credits rolled. And tomorrow morning, he’d go out early and scrape the Jeep’s windshield of ice for me. He’d be up early to work out at the gym, then he’d come back and make us both lunches.

Was that why I hadn’t moved yet? His considerate touches always seemed to reel me in. That, and maybe I was scared to spend my nights on a couch alone.

None of it mattered. Not a little bit. Because I was not a woman in Luka’s fantasies. He’d starred in my fantasies for a decade, yet I’d barely been a side character in his.

Dreams of Luka came less and less these days. Instead, I dreamed of a faceless man who cherished me wholly. A man who was considerate. Sweet. Maybe a man who was just as tall. Just as handsome.

And while I was pulling items from the dream-guy menu, I wanted him to have an ass like Jeff Dawson’s.