Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Della

There was one empty table at The Maysen Jar.

The table situated right beside Jeff’s.

“I, um…nice to see you again.” My hands smoothed down the skirt of my dress, then tucked twin locks of hair behind each ear. My fingers flexed, hanging in midair for a moment, searching for their next target—the puff on one of my sleeves.

Fidgeting. That was a new trick. Oh God. I hadn’t felt this nervous around a man in years. Not since those early days in college when I’d met Luka. But I’d known him for so long, the jitters that came with my crush had faded.

Was that what this was? A crush?

If only I’d spotted him earlier, I could have snuck out the restaurant’s door before he’d seen me. But there was no way I could leave now, not without seeming rude. Besides, I was starving and I’d already ordered my food.

So here I was, fidgeting.

I cast a look toward the front counter and the row of empty stools. The loner’s section. I’d wanted a table tonight, not just because I’d brought along papers to grade and wanted space to sprawl, but because I hadn’t wanted to be the only person at the counter.

So I slid into a chair at that empty table, sitting beside Jeff with a two-foot gap between our shoulders, and set down my Diet Coke. Poppy wasn’t here tonight, but the waitress was making my dinner and had promised to bring it over once it was out of the oven.

“How was the rest of your day?” Jeff asked.

“Good. Uneventful. I don’t know if my students will ever learn how to use commas correctly, but it’s become my personal challenge to get at least one kid to know the rules. Katy might just be that kid.” Rambling. I didn’t ramble. Get it together, Della.

I risked a glance Jeff’s way, taking in his profile. There was a small bump on the bridge of his nose. He had a strong chin. A soft pout. And that jaw…

Chiseled. Granite.

Yep, definitely a crush. On my student’s father. This was so, so bad.

“I wish I could offer to help Katy with the comma situation,” he said. “But I’m rather helpless when it comes to them myself. I’d do more damage than good. Math on the other hand, math I can handle.”

Why was that attractive? What was up with me and guys who liked math?

Jeff’s gaze caught mine for a brief moment before we each faced forward again.

My cheeks flamed, a mix between infatuation and the awkwardness of sitting side by side. We were like two teenage kids at a theater trying not to look at each other but so painfully aware of the other that concentrating on anything else was impossible.

“Here you go, Della.” The waitress came to my rescue, placing a tray on my table. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thanks.” I gave her a kind smile, then busied myself with unrolling my silverware and draping the napkin across my lap.

“First-name basis here, huh?” Jeff asked.

I shrugged. “I come here a lot.”

“This is my first time. It’s good. Very good. After Katy’s outburst today, I figured why not try it out. Then I’ll bring her here next week.”

“I saw her this afternoon on the playground. She was laughing with a group of her little friends. Like this morning’s tears never happened.”

His eyes softened, something that happened a lot where his daughter was concerned. “Appreciate you helping her. And calling me.”

“Of course.” I dug my spoon into my chicken pot pie, letting the steam escape the top crust.

The restaurant’s front door opened, a couple stepping inside. They glanced around, both searching for an empty table.

“Mind if we share a table?” Jeff asked. “Free one up?”

“Not at all.” This would be better, right? At least we could face each other.

Jeff shifted his dinner, moving it to my table before he took the chair opposite mine.

Our gazes locked. That heat in my cheeks spread.

Nope, this was worse. Much, much worse. Now it felt like we were on a date.

Whatever. We’d survive a quick meal and then I’d go home. The papers I’d grade at the dining room table. If I was lucky, Luka would be gone when I got there. He’d mentioned possibly going to the gym.

I took a bite, still too hot but I let it scald my tongue anyway.

Jeff opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then must have decided against it because he took a bite of his mac ’n’ cheese.

“I eat alone a lot,” I blurted as he chewed. “I think I’m out of practice sharing a table with someone.”

He swallowed, nodding. “Same. My only dinner companion these days is Katy. And she usually carries the conversation.”

“Then we’re doomed.”

He chuckled. It was a rumbled laugh, one that came from deep in his chest, and sounded almost as nice as the way he spoke my name.

“My roommate is the chatty one at my house. Luka.” Apparently, even with a burned tongue, the rambling wasn’t going to stop. “He came into the classroom earlier as you were leaving. He teaches math. Katy will probably have him next year. He has an affinity for pop quizzes.”

“Noted.” Jeff took another bite.

“Luka and I actually went to college together. We’ve been friends for years and were both lucky to get a job in the Bozeman school district.”

Wait. Why the hell was I talking about Luka?

He was part of the reason I’d come here tonight. The last place I wanted to be right now was at home with a Luka who was acting not like Luka.

Right as Jeff had been leaving my classroom earlier, Luka had come in and given me a hug. Luka hadn’t hugged me in a year. The most affection he showed me was the occasional high five or fist bump.

I’d shrugged him off, not something I’d ever thought I’d do, but he’d been acting so…strange. Guilty. That hug attempt had felt a lot like a farce. A plea for forgiveness.

Luka’s blond had come over again last night. Like the time before, he hadn’t even bothered with an introduction before whisking her off to his bedroom.

I’d made the mistake of staying home, sequestered in my room, knowing exactly what was happening in his bedroom. Well, not tonight. I’d left before there was even a chance at an encounter.

I dug my spoon into my jar, about to take a bite, but noticed Jeff’s jars were empty. While I’d been blathering about Luka, he’d inhaled his food to get the hell away from this table.

Well, it wasn’t awkward anymore. We’d skipped to sheer mortification.

“Sorry,” I whispered at the same time he said, “I eat fast.”

“Pardon?”

Jeff gestured to his empty jars. “I eat fast. My boss told me once there wasn’t a limit on the number of times I could chew.”

Relief coursed through my veins, the air rushing from my lungs. So he wasn’t trying to make a fast escape. He just ate fast. “Oh.”

“How long have you been a teacher?” He relaxed deeper in his chair, showing no signs of leaving.

“About five years,” I told him, letting my shoulders fall away from where they’d crept toward my ears. “I graduated from MSU when I was twenty-two, but there weren’t any positions open at the time so I subbed for a year before I got hired on at the middle school full-time.”

Bozeman was one of the fastest growing communities in the country. People flocked to this area of Montana, wanting to escape big-city life but also wanting the comforts that came with a town large enough for a Costco, Target and UberEATS.

With the influx of residents, the city had built three new schools in the past five years. The teacher who’d had my classroom before me had opted to move into the bright, shiny new middle school.

Fine by me. I didn’t need bright and shiny.

“Are you from here?” Jeff asked.

“No, I grew up in Prescott. It’s a small town about an hour from here. Ever been?”

“I haven’t.”

“It’s worth a trip if you and Katy ever feel like getting out of town. My parents still live there, so I visit fairly often.”

“Didn’t want to get a job teaching there?” he asked.

“I thought about it, but it’s hard to get a job in Prescott. There just aren’t enough positions, and the English teacher there is in her thirties with no current plans to retire or move.”

Prescott would always be home, though every year I spent in Bozeman, it felt more and more like mine. “What do you do?”

“I’m a landscape designer at Alcott Landscaping.”

“Any projects around town that I’d recognize?”

“Maybe. Most of what we do is residential. But you know that park next to the new brewery off Oak?”

My jaw dropped. “You did that?”

“Turned out nice.”

Nice? That park was stunning.

Jeff had incorporated these antique elements into the flower beds, from wagon wheels to an old bicycle to a rusted pickup with blooms teeming from its windows and truck bed. The walkways were cobblestone, charming and delightfully imperfect so people couldn’t race along the path but were forced to slow down. To take deliberate steps. To appreciate the riot of colorful blooms and their sweet scents.

It was a park where lovers went to stroll. Where old friends met to reconnect.

“You’re very talented,” I said.

He lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. Mostly, I love my job. Don’t think everyone can say that, so I’m grateful.”

Hot. And humble.

Yeah, this crush was a bad idea, but who the hell could blame me?

“I have to tell you something,” I said. “You’re not at all who I expected to meet when you walked into my classroom last week.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

“Katy’s mom, um…I just had a different impression about you.”

“I see.” Understanding dawned and the confusion on his face was replaced with a frown.

Ugh. What was wrong with me? Jeff hadn’t raced for the door after he’d eaten but apparently I was trying to sabotage this meal and send him far, far away. Why had I even brought this up?

Earlier today, when Katy had called her mother a brat, Jeff hadn’t let it stand. Yet she’d dragged him through the mud to me, a stranger, without hesitation during our first meeting.

I sucked at dinner conversation. “I don’t know why I told you that. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Appreciate the heads-up. Just wish I could say I was surprised.”

“You don’t get along?”

He shook his head. “Wish I could say we did.”

Jeff seemed so…steady. Solid. No hidden agendas. No drama. Granted, we didn’t know each other, but I just got this sense from him. Like if a tornado hit this very spot, he’d be the man whose feet never left the ground.

So what had happened with Jeff’s ex? Had he cut her loose? Or had he broken her heart? Was revenge the reason she’d called him a deadbeat?

A thousand burning questions popped into my mind but I swallowed them down, concentrating on my meal.

“We got married young,” he said.

I put my fork down, giving Jeff my undivided attention.

He stared across the table, his expression so open. Unguarded. I liked that a lot too.

Jeff had the most dazzling hazel eyes. They were a riot of earthy colors from brown to hunter green to flecks of gold and silver.

Katy’s eyes. She shared most of her mother’s features, from her nose to her mouth to her hair color, but those eyes she’d inherited from Jeff.

Lucky girl.

“Rosalie and I met at a party,” he said. “We were young. Drunk. Hooked up and she got pregnant. The way I was raised, you get a girl pregnant, you do your best to make it work. So we got married.”

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Ooof. That is young.” At nineteen, I’d been in college, worrying over team projects and if I should get bangs, not a husband and baby.

“Too young,” he said. “Most days were…hard. But we stayed together for a couple years. I think I was just too stubborn to admit it was a failure.”

“You strike me as the type of man who doesn’t like that word.”

“Not at all.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “The divorce was messy. I suspect most are.”

I waited for him to explain “messy” but he folded his hands in his lap, no further explanation given. This was his chance to balance the scales, to give me the dirt, but he stayed quiet, letting my imagination run rampant.

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “I, uh…I shouldn’t be saying this. You’re Katy’s teacher.”

So Rosalie could run Jeff down, but he couldn’t share his side of the story? Was that because he still loved her? Had he ever loved her?

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” I said.

“Then why do I want to?” He studied my face, like that question was more for him than me. “Why do I feel like I’ve known you more than a week?”

“I don’t know.” But God, I liked it. I liked him . More and more with every passing second.

“I don’t talk about Rosalie much. To anyone,” he said. “It’s just easier I guess. To keep it to myself.”

“Because of Katy?” Or because he didn’t have a lot of confidants. I had a hunch maybe it was both.

Jeff inched forward and dropped his voice. “During the divorce, I mostly referred to her as a vicious bitch. She wanted full custody of Katy, who was only two, and I refused. So she hired a lawyer and started making up stories about how I was a bad father. Said I wasn’t ever at home. Said I refused to buy diapers. That sort of bullshit.”

“Seriously?” Anyone who spent more than two seconds with Jeff and Katy would see he was a loving and devoted father.

“It was all lies. I wasn’t home, because I was working two jobs. And I wouldn’t buy Pampers, because they were twice as expensive as Walmart’s generic brand.”

Hence the “vicious bitch” nickname.

“Took me a bit, but I found a good lawyer. He was a good guy. Knew I was struggling and threw me a bone. Made sure I didn’t lose custody of Katy. But through it all, I didn’t have a lot of nice things to say about Rosalie. Couple years after the divorce, Rosalie did something that pissed me off. I was ranting to my parents about it and called her a bitch. Katy was four and she repeated it.”

I winced. “Oh.”

“Decided from that point on, I might not have to like Rosalie, but she’s Katy’s mom.”

So he’d stopping talking badly about her. Meanwhile, Rosalie had jumped at the chance to smear Jeff to her daughter’s teacher.

Shame on me for believing her.

“Sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth, just like he’d done in my classroom the day we’d met. Like he wanted to erase the words he’d spoken. “You’re very easy to talk to. Has anyone said that to you before?”

“A few times.” I liked to listen more than talk. I guess that was why people confided in me.

“I can’t believe I just told you all of that. Why did I tell you all of that?”

“I’m glad you did,” I said. “You’re a good dad.”

“I am a good dad.” A statement. Delivered by a man who’d been called the opposite and who’d worked hard to prove he was worthy.

This crush was going nowhere, was it? Damn . I glanced down to my unfinished meal, giving it my attention instead. If I kept staring into Jeff’s hazel eyes, I’d be tempted to beg him for an actual date.

And he was totally off-limits.

While Katy was my student, all Jeff could ever be was an acquaintance. A friend. The district had policies about parent-teacher relationships.

My crush would have to wait. Would he?

Maybe after years of being rejected by Luka, years of pining for that man, I didn’t have the guts to ask.

So I ate my dinner, then wiped the corner of my mouth with a napkin. “It was nice bumping into you tonight.”

Jeff dipped his chin. “Same. Thanks for keeping me company. And, uh, sorry for the overshare.”

“Don’t be. And you’re welcome.” I shifted out of my seat, collecting my belongings and shrugging on my coat while he did the same. Then, instead of heading with him to the front door, I pointed to the counter. “I’m going to grab something to go for my lunch tomorrow.”

Jeff lifted a hand. “Good night, Della.”

“Bye, Jeff.” I turned, refusing to let myself watch him walk out the door. But as I headed for the counter, the waitress checked him out.

Her eyes were glued to Jeff’s ass.

So much for her tip on my next order. A surge of possession rushed through my veins strong enough to make me turn.

Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Long legs. And that glorious behind of honed muscle.

Jeff Dawson was temptation personified.

He pushed through the door, disappearing around the corner to the parking lot while I faced forward, getting a salad for myself. Then I headed home, not sure how to feel. Crestfallen. Giddy. Pathetic.

Had I gotten too complacent? Too stuck in a rut? When was the last time I’d gone out to dinner with a man? I’d all but abandoned dating. Not that Jeff and I had been on a date, but it had been date-ish.

Should I dust off my dating apps? The idea made me grimace as I walked into the house.

“What’s that look?” Luka asked from the living room.

“Nothing.” I waved it off, taking my food to the fridge.

Just as I closed the door, Luka rounded the corner, leaning a shoulder against the wall. He’d changed out of his work clothes into a pair of black sweats and a zippered hoodie that he’d left undone to reveal the hollow at the base of his throat.

Luka was undeniably handsome. Years ago, I would have fantasized about undoing that zipper the rest of the way.

“You look pretty,” he said, his gaze dragging down my dress from work.

I was pretty.

Like Jeff could declare he was a good dad, I was pretty. Sure, some days I had the same insecurities I suspected most women battled, but I felt comfortable in my skin. When I looked in the mirror, I saw more features that I liked than disliked.

So it wasn’t the declaration of me being pretty that made me pause. It was the fact that the compliment had come from Luka.

Had he ever called me pretty before? Most of his commentary about me was playful teasing. He’d joke about the rainbow stack of bracelets I wore at least once a week because rainbows made me happy. He’d tease me for the countless shoes stuffed in the hall closet. But a genuine compliment?

I racked my brain but couldn’t remember a time when he’d called me pretty.

“Thank you?” It came out as a question.

He grinned. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Sur—” Actually . No. “I think I’m going to read.”

His smile fell. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Really. I didn’t feel like a movie with Luka today. “Night.”

Without another word, I slipped past him and went upstairs to my bedroom. After putting on some pajamas, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. Then I slipped into bed, pulling my Kindle from its charger. But not even one paragraph into the book I’d started last night and my mind wandered.

So I swapped the Kindle for my phone, pulling up Instagram and searching for Alcott Landscaping.

The latest post was of a guy waving from his pickup. On the front of the truck was a plow blade and the caption summarized Alcott’s snow removal services. I scrolled through the other winter photos, scanning faces. Searching. No Jeff. Not until the backdrops were snow-free and posted from this past fall.

He was wearing a buffalo-check flannel and a faded black baseball hat, washing his hands in some sort of old-fashioned fountain, seemingly unaware that someone close by had a camera. Jeff’s strong jaw was dusted with stubble. Beneath his flannel was an oatmeal Henley, similar to the one he’d been wearing the day we’d met.

I kept scrolling, searching for more. He wasn’t shown often. Whoever was in charge of their social media did a great job balancing numerous employees as well as projects, both in progress and completed. But there he was again from last May.

He was smiling in the photo, wearing that same faded hat. His hands were covered in leather gloves as he carried a young sapling toward a hole in the dirt. The muscles in his forearms were flexed. His biceps strained the fabric of his sweaty, white T-shirt. Beneath his dirt-streaked jeans, his thighs were thick, the denim molding around honed muscle.

A pulse bloomed between my legs. My mouth watered.

He was sexy and sweet and—

“Della?” Luka knocked on my door.

I jerked, dropping my phone as I sat up straighter. “Y-yeah?”

“You decent?”

“Come on in.” I quickly turned the phone upside down as he turned the doorknob and poked his head inside. “What’s up?”

“Just seeing if you’re loving your book or if I could change your mind about that movie. But looks like you’re not even reading.”

“Just catching up on social media.” Drooling over my student’s father. Same thing.

“Still a no on the movie?”

“I’m going to chill up here.”

“All right.” He glanced around the room, lingering. What was he doing?

This was my space, and with his suite downstairs, he didn’t have a reason to come up here. Until tonight. What was up with him? Had the blond dumped him? That would serve him right, considering he was usually the one to break hearts. Maybe he’d be more careful if he learned how it felt.

Finally, he shifted, pulling the door closed. “Night.”

“Good night.” I waited until Luka was gone, then sagged against my pillows.

Why did I feel like I’d just been caught doing something bad?

“Because you were,” I muttered.

What the hell was I doing? Cyber stalking Katy’s father?

God, I was pathetic. This had to stop. So I put my phone away once more.

And spent the rest of the evening trying not to think about Jeff Dawson.