Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Ivy

I sigh, my head pounding as I come out of my bedroom, knowing that I owe Knox doubly so now.

Or maybe it’s more than that by now.

That scene at school.

The email with contacts and scary legal language.

That conversation with Evie in the hallway at the rink.

Being charming at dinner and keeping her busy by coloring with her while I took the call from the superintendent.

Okay, I owe him far more than I want to.

Far more than is smart.

But I’ll deal with it. I’ll pay up. I always do.

Just…after dishes and making our lunches for tomorrow and checking Evie’s homework and drafting another email to Tera from the legal department for the Sierra, hoping they can help a mother out.

Or scare the school district enough so that this shit won’t ever happen again.

The lights are on in Evie’s room, so I stop by there first, intending to tell her to brush her teeth and get her jammies on.

But she’s already asleep.

And…her clothes are out for the morning?

And her room is clean.

I frown.

I mean, that’s our routine, but the fact that my daughter actually has done it without me prompting her is…

Unfathomable.

I shake my head, then flick off the light and mostly close the door.

Okay, so dishes and lunches and the never ending pile of laundry and hoping the fridge isn’t leaking again. That seems tackleable.

Is that a word?

No, I suppose not.

But at least those are tasks I know I can get done before I pass out on the couch tonight.

I head down the hall and slip into the kitchen, halting when I find a tall, sexy hockey player up to his elbows in soap suds.

“Your dishwasher doesn’t work?” he asks as I’m frozen, absorbing the blow of him there.

The yearning it creates in me.

What’s that meme?

There’s no surer way to get laid than doing dishes or laundry without being asked?

Because my pussy is seriously on board with that sentiment.

“Ivy?” he asks, his eyes coming to mine when I don’t reply.

I snap out of it. “No,” I say with a shrug. “My landlord keeps telling me he’ll fix it, but it doesn’t appear to be a priority for him.” I pick up a towel. “Thankfully, Evie and I don’t make too many dishes.”

His eyes hold mine for a long moment, a muscle in his jaw flexing, but he doesn’t do anything except continue washing the dishes, setting them carefully in the drying rack.

I snag a pan, start wiping it off. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know.” He finishes the last dish then turns the water on and begins wiping down the sink.

Seriously?

How is a woman supposed to resist that?

“How did the call go?”

I sigh, tug open the cabinet next to the stove and shove the pan onto the shelf. I should probably have an organizational system for these, something more than the Pot Jenga I’m constantly executing each time that I put stuff away.

But I also know that’s not going to happen.

Far too many other things to keep track in my life aside from proper pot placement.

“That good, huh?”

“They’re saying all the right things.” I rub the throb in my temple. “But I have the feeling that they’re just trying to placate me. They told me they’re investigating Ms. Hearst’s actions, but they haven’t put that in writing in any of my emails. And I just…” I shake my head, pick up a plate and start drying.

“You just what?”

“I have that feeling.” I sigh again. “You know that one when someone’s going to try and fuck you over?”

He’s still again. And then he slips the towel and plate from my fingers. “Does that happen to you a lot?”

My lungs hitch, but I manage to shake my head. “No more than it happens to anyone else, I suppose.”

He sets the plate on the counter, picks up the next and begins drying. “Why don’t I believe you?”

I inhale. Then shove the feeling of being caught in a lie to the side. I’ve been through the same shit as countless other women. I’m no different. Not special. “I didn’t thank you for your help with Evie.”

“You did.”

I flick my brows up in question.

“In your email,” he explains. “And with dinner tonight.”

“I—”

His lips twitch. “I know you didn’t make the invite, but you didn’t murder me when Evie did.” One broad shoulder lifts and drops. “That’s good enough for me.”

“Knox,” I begin.

“And don’t worry. I’m not going to be an idiot. Evie’s great. You know that she’s practically family when it comes to the guys, Ella, and I. Coming to dinner and hanging out with her isn’t cramping my style. She’s an awesome kid.”

The way he says that—the sincerity in his words that I can feel —it hits me hard.

Nearly as hard as the sight of him standing at my sink, washing my dishes.

All of that being said. “Still,” I begin. “You didn’t have to?—”

His fingers wrap around my wrist. “I know I didn’t.”

We’re close. Far too close. And my body is far too aware of how close his is, of how much that nearness affects me—making heat bloom in my belly, desire between my thighs, need…

Deeper.

Somewhere much more vulnerable.

“But why?”

“A truce,” he whispers, not backing up, not putting any bit of space between us.

“Wh-what?”

“I want a truce between us.”

My eyebrows fly up. “Knox, I?—”

“Don’t overthink it, lioness,” he murmurs, running his thumb lightly up and down my wrist. “Just…”

“Give in?” I ask archly.

His mouth is very close to mine, but his body is even closer. Which is why I feel his chest inflate on his next breath, why I can practically taste his next words on my lips. “Yes, lioness. Give in.”

I lift my chin. “I don’t give in.”

He grins. “Oh, I know. So…truce?”

“Isn’t that giving in?” I ask, exasperated.

“No,” he teases. “Consider it…a strategic partnership.”

“But you just said?—”

“I know. Don’t forget, if there’s one thing us Adlers are good at, it’s talking.”

“Spinning bullshit, you mean,” I mutter.

A grin. “That too.” He rests his forehead against mine, just for a moment, sending my pulse skittering. Then he straightens, snagging the towel and tossing it at me. “Now, you finish drying and I’ll put away.”

“You don’t have?—”

“Uh-uh,” he interjects. “Truce, remember?”

“Ugh,” I grumble. “You’re annoying.”

“Another useful Adler skill.”

I sniff.

But I dry.

And then I show him where the dishes go.