Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Ivy

“Look, Mom!”

I grit my teeth together, bite back my sigh.

She loves me. She wants to spend time with me. And…I love her. Love being a mom. Love our home that we’ve made in the Tahoe basin.

There’s peace here, and well-paying work.

It’s just that I really don’t want to look at the twentieth drawing that my daughter, Evie, has made since I picked her up from school.

I admire her dedication and her neatness, just…not her artistic abilities.

Especially not when I’m flat on my back, crammed between the fridge and the tiny space behind it, trying to fix the leak in the ice maker.

“ Mom!”

“Just a second, honey,” I say, stretching a little further, trying to get the wrench positioned correctly so I can tighten the nut that’s the cause of all my problems—or at least the ones that mean I keep coming home to find a puddle spreading out from beneath the fridge.

“But Mom,” she whines. “This one is really good. It’s has me and Rylie”—her best friend at school—“and you.”

The wrench slips and the water starts coming faster. I grit my teeth together. “Neat, honey.”

“And we’re all making a snowman.”

“Cool, baby.” I reposition the wrench, manage to tighten the screw enough that the water slows down.

Finally.

I go again, tighten it further, relief coursing through me as the flow turns into a drip then turns into not a leak.

“Thank you, sweet baby Jesus,” I whisper, my eyes flying to the ceiling and a sigh of relief sliding through me.

I still have a mess to clean up, but…progress.

“And there’s a carrot nose and sticks for arms and coal buttons, all like the song!”

I start wriggling backward, making a mental note to clean back here before I return the fridge to its proper position…and before I start creating my own ecosystem behind it. “No top hat?” I ask as I shift to my knees and resist the urge to scrub my damp, dust-covered hands over my face.

“Oh!” she says, clutching the paper, drawing side in, to her chest. “ That’s what I forgot!”

She spins on her heel, her long red braids swinging behind her—my girl loves her braids, no matter how messy my attempts turn out—and she runs back into the living room, presumably to add that top hat to her drawing. Free for the moment, I take the chance to wash my hands, attempt to fix my own braid she insisted I corral my hair in to (the bane of my existence, my daughter learning what braids are), and then turn back to what I was doing before I noticed water seeping out beneath the fridge?—

Laundry.

Oh, the life of a single mom.

It’s so much fun.

“Look, Mom!”

I glance up from the socks I’m matching and plaster the right kind of expression on my face—interested, focused, proper attentive mama. I ooh and aah over the neatness and the colors, compliment her slightly better than stick figures…and then I repeat the process with a half-dozen others she brings my way for inspection as I fold.

I finish the laundry, clear out the sink—why does it always seem to be filled with dirty dishes? And then it’s time for both of us to have a snack and for my little Evie to get into her karate uniform.

More Mom Duties.

I snag my computer and Evie’s bag then hustle us both out to the car, intending on doing some multitasking during Evie’s class.

Player programs to review, modifications to make, and doing some planning for the private clients that I see on the side—something that’s grown much smaller in number now that I work full-time with the team, but something I’m also not willing to give up.

And not just because of the extra money my long-time clients bring in.

I enjoy working with them, supporting the progress they’ve made over the years—getting stronger, managing pain, claiming back mobility.

And also…

Fall-back plan.

It’s always important to have a fallback plan.

The drive to the karate studio isn’t long, but I can’t help sighing in pleasure as we wind through the roads. There’s something about the pine trees and the snow, even the gray sky overhead. Safe and hidden, our own private space—at least until we get into the busy downtown area and I spend a solid five minutes circling the karate studio’s parking lot for a spot.

Eventually, I squeeze my car into one that’s not terribly far from the studio, grab our stuff, and get settled inside.

In between watching my six-year-old practice her kicks and punches (and once, very impressively, her take-down skills when her instructor taught her a sweep), I’m working on my files.

Even with all of that going on, though, I’m still hyper aware of a man coming into the studio partway through class.

Hyper aware because he sits directly next to me.

And there aren’t any other parents watching.

So…to be in the seat next to me?

Yeah, not loving that.

I may work with a full roster of gorgeous hockey players, but I’m sure as fuck not in the market for a man. I’ve made my own way for far too long to let some asshole with an itch to scratch into my life.

I don’t do one-night stands.

And I don’t expose my daughter to men who’ll walk away.

And, let’s face it, they always do.

Plus, I don’t eat where I shit—and fucking one of the parents from my daughter’s karate class…

Well, I think that’s got to be pretty close to the precise definition of exactly that.

So, I do my best to stay focused on what’s important—my work and my daughter.

Alas, the man doesn’t take the nonverbal hint (and really, do they ever?) because he follows Evie and I out of the studio, his son by his side.

“Excuse me?”

I clench my jaw, but I turn and force a smile. “Yes? Can I help you?”

He’s handsome, this man. In good shape and with all his hair and he has kind eyes, but I don’t let that sway me— can’t let it sway me. “Hey, you’re Evie’s mom, right?”

I nod, glance down at my daughter. “Yup. I’m Ivy.” A nod to his son. “And you belong to Max?”

A grin. “I sure do.” He extends his hand, and I shake it. “Tom.”

“Hi, Tom.”

We spend a few minutes chatting about the instructors and how much fun the kids are having in class before the moment I’ve been dreading happens. “You know,” he begins. “I was wondering if you might be interested in going out?—”

Dammit.

I flick my stare to Evie again, see the rapt focus she’s displaying for this conversation, and…know that I have to nip this in the bud.

This usually doesn’t end well and I don’t want her exposed to a shitshow.

I dig into my pocket, pull out my keys, and pass them over to her. “Why don’t you get into the car, honey?”

Her nose wrinkles, and I think she’ll argue—not wanting to miss out on the action—but then her gaze connects with Max and something passes between them.

Something that gives me a sinking sensation.

Because…that something is plotting.

Damn. It’s worse than I thought.

“Okay, Mom!” she chirps, running over to the car. I watch her get in, make sure she closes the door, and when I turn back to my special brand of hell, it’s to see Max having done the same (albeit getting into his own car) and Tom still standing there looking hopeful.

Double damn.

“Look,” I say and immediately his expression falls. I feel like shit, but I have to keep pushing on, have to end this before it gets worse. “You seem really nice, and Max is a gem, but I’m not interested in dating anyone right now.”

“Max said that Evie said?—”

“No,” I interrupt.

Just… no.

It’s simpler that way.

Of course, the true assholes don’t always take no for an answer.

Thankfully, Tom proves different—at least on this front.

He studies me for a second. Then he sighs and his mouth ticks up. “Been burned, huh?”

Relief slides through me because…he’s not going to make this hard.

“Too many times to count,” I admit.

“I’m sorry about that.” He reaches out as though to touch my arm, but before I can step back, he drops his hand to his side. “Right.” A tilt of his head to the studio. “We’ll see you around.”

I nod. “I—” I clear my throat. “Thank you for the thought.”

“You’re welcome.”

We stand there awkwardly for a second before I put us both out of our misery by joining Evie in the car.

“Did you say yes?” she asks before the door even slams shut.

I stifle a sigh. “Honey, I?—”

“You said no,” she mutters and when I flick my gaze to the rear-view mirror, checking that she’s buckled in, I see she’s scowling.

Sigh.

“I said no, sweetheart,” I agree. “Tom seems nice, and I know Max is your friend, but I’m perfectly happy with my life right now.”

Evie scowls. “But what about when I get married and move out?”

God help me.

“Well, maybe then I’ll be lonely and want to look for someone.” I turn around now, holding her eyes so she knows this is one of those times that I mean business. “But, right now, I’m not interested in dating anyone, okay?”

She sighs and flops back in her booster seat, mutiny in every line of her being.

“I’m never going to have a dad, am I?”