3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Cat

A nap. That's all I want, all I fantasized about on my drive home from work. With the week I've had, my body and mind are fried. The constant chatter of twenty-six third graders still echoes in my ears.

I love my job, I really do, but sometimes it feels like I'm herding cats instead of teaching children.

The one bright spot in my day is that it was an early day at school. No afterwork meetings. No parental phone calls. No professional developments. And no school for the next week.

Because it’s winter-freakin’-recess.

Plus, Nora is with Jake at therapy, which means I have the house to myself for a bit. Total peace and quiet. The idea of solitude is so enticing I can almost taste it, like the first sip of coffee in the morning.

I turn the corner to Nora's small rental house and groan in relief as the familiar sight of the pale blue siding comes into view. I heard life throws you curveballs. But a fucking fire at my apartment complex is a hell of one. I should be happy my unit wasn't completely destroyed and that most of my belongings are probably fine. But five months to renovate.

Carajo.

So now I’m sleeping on Nora’s couch.

I love my best friend. I really do.

But I’m a teacher for fuck’s sake, with a good salary. Crashing on her couch was not in my plans.

At least it’s only temporary, and nothing too life changing. Just a hiccup that’d be over come summer.

Hopefully.

I pull into the driveway and turn off my Audi Q4. God, I love this car. Between my grandmother and helping out with Jake, the SUV comes in handy. Not to mention the crazy ass winter we’ve had. The heated seats—and heated steering wheel—have been a godsend during the recent cold snap.

Once inside, I toe off my boots, relishing the feeling of freedom as my feet sink into the plush carpet. I hang up my coat, then drop my purse onto the coffee table before flopping down on my temporary bed, aka the living room couch.

Peace and quiet.

The familiar scent of Nora's lavender air freshener fills my nostrils as I sink into the cushions. My eyes drift closed and my body finally starts to relax, the tension of the day seeping out of my muscles.

Until my damn phone goes off.

Mierda.

The shrill ringtone cuts through the silence like a knife. I consider ignoring it for a moment, but years of ingrained politeness—and the possibility it might be school-related—win out.

I glance at the screen, then click to answer. “Hola, Abuela.”

“Are you still staying at Nora’s? Nieta, go get a hotel room.” My grandmother's voice, warm and familiar, fills my ear.

“Seriously? This is why you called me?”

“Catharina, Wyatt just moved in. The lovebirds need some space, not a third wheel. What if Nora wants to jump that handsome boy as soon as he walks in the door? She can’t. You know why? Because you’re right there on the couch.”

Oh, my ever loving God. Leave it to my grandmother to worry about everyone’s sex life but her own.

“And if you stayed at a hotel you can take Jake with you a night or two to give Nora some alone time with that future husband of hers.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to ward off the headache building. “Abuela, are you focusing on Nora’s sex life because of your recent STD? Has that put a damper on your escapades?”

“Catharina! Do we need to have a conversation about your love life? Because we can do that. I even asked Wyatt last weekend if any of his teammates might be interested in you. Told him to talk you up.”

“You did what!” My voice rises an octave, and I bolt upright on the couch.

“Mi nieta, you aren’t getting any younger.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the frustration stemming from her blurting out my private business to Wyatt. “Abuela, stop worrying about me. I’m fine. Really, I am.”

And I am. I don’t feel like I’m missing anything being single. I go on dates. Sometimes I even go on multiple dates with the same guys. I don’t have any bad relationship wounds that prevent me from finding a serious relationship.

I just haven’t found anyone who really holds my interest. And, to be fair, sometimes I simply don’t fit what they are looking for either. Too loud, too opinionated, too... me.

The thought sends a familiar pang through my chest, echoes of childhood rejections and judgments.

I close my eyes, phone to my ear, pushing away the unwelcome memories. “Are we still on for dinner Sunday?”

My grandmother chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. “Of course. You know how I look forward to dinner and murder TV with you. Gotta keep up on all the new ways we need to cover our tracks in case we need to hide a body.”

A grin spreads across my face. This is why I love my grandmother. She gets me in a way my parents never did. Where they were passive and insecure, afraid to make waves, my grandmother, on the other hand, is a force of nature.

We also need to be prepared in case that rat bastard Michael ever comes around Nora and Jake again. Wyatt would probably do the killing, but my grandmother and I have been watching these Netflix shows like they are a religion. So, the three of us could easily make someone disappear.

“I’ll see you Sunday. Te amo.” My grandmother disconnects the phone, and I let out a deep breath.

Finally.

Peace and—

The roar of Wyatt’s truck engine drifts into the room, and I groan. While I can’t think of a better person for Nora, the man never stops talking. A chatterbox. And that’s saying something coming from me.

The truck door slams and my nap time is officially over. But then another door closes. Must be one of his teammates.

“Hey, Cat,” Wyatt says as he strolls in, his voice booming in the quiet house.

“How was practice?”

“Fuckin’ killed it. As always.” Wyatt gives me one of his signature megawatt smiles.

A second later, Leo Hartman walks in. Odd. His kids aren’t here. Though, Wyatt’s told us they’re trying to be friends. Seems the team captain is awkward as fuck when it comes to people skills.

“Hey, Leo.”

The man just nods his greeting, but the way he stares at me, those icy blue eyes unblinking, causes me to swallow hard. He’s never looked at me like that before. It's intense, almost predatory, and a shiver runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the winter chill.

He looks around the area, a muscle near his jawline ticking. He shakes his head, turns on his heels, then walks right back out the door.

I turn to Wyatt with both brows raised. “What the fuck was that about?”

Wyatt doesn’t respond. Instead, he chases his friend outside.

Now I’m intrigued. I peer through the blinds, watching the two men. Wyatt’s throwing his hands up in the air as Leo stands there, stoic as always. My gaze travels over the man. When people say Leo Hartman looks like a Viking, they aren’t kidding.

Blond, tall, lumberjack muscular, and those piercing icy blue eyes. But also that stoic attitude. Even without saying much he gives off an energy that screams he isn’t a person to be messed with. It's intimidating, sure, but also . . . oddly appealing.

What makes him even more appealing—he’s a great dad. I adore his kids when they come over to hang out with Jake, especially his daughter, Stella.

His kids are so empathetic and supportive of Jake, always making sure he is okay. Sometimes I wonder if they are both truly under ten years old because they act too mature. But their actions just go to show Leo’s doing a great job in raising them.

The only flaw the man has is that attitude. Or lack of one. Or lack of speaking. Like sure, it might be intriguing—maybe a little sexy—at first. But all that silence gets old.

I chuckle when Wyatt drags his fingers down his face, frustrated and turning red. I can only imagine what they’re talking about, but when I go to crack the window to eavesdrop, they suddenly start walking back toward the front door.

“Shit.” I spin and jump on the couch. Except, I land on the edge and bounce off onto the floor. “Ouch. Fuck.”

Pain shoots through my hip as I land, and I bite back a curse. Great. Just great.

“Why are you on the floor?” Wyatt raises a brow as he stands in the foyer staring at me.

I shuffle to my feet, trying to maintain what little dignity I have left. “You know me. Clumsy.”

A low groan comes from behind him. From Leo.

Fantastic. Now I look like a fool.

“You two need some privacy? I can go up to Jake’s room for a bit.” I’m already backing up toward the stairs. Anything to escape this awkward situation.

Wyatt shakes his head. “Actually, we need to talk to you about something.”

Oh.

Me?

This should be interesting.

Wyatt shoves Leo forward. Sometimes I forget how tall the man is. At least to my five-foot-two self. He towers over me, and I have to crane my neck to look at his face.

Leo exhales slowly, staring at my forehead. “Need someone to help watch my kids. Interested?”

I know Wyatt probably meant to facepalm, but the slap is so loud the poor guy actually has a red handprint on his face. Yup, Leo Hartman is awkward as fuck.

“Uh, sure. You know I help out with them anyway. Just drop them off whenever.”

Leo rubs the back of his neck. “Meant like full-time. Live in sort of deal. Wyatt said—”

I glare at my best friend’s fiancé. “If you wanted me out, you should have said something. Not try to pawn me off on your friend.”

Wyatt raises both hands in the air. “No. That’s not what I did. Look, the buffoon’s nanny quit on him. His mom has been helping watch the kids. But she’s . . . difficult. He needs help with them and has an extra room so you won’t have to sleep on a couch. It’s a win-win.”

Leo grunts and nods.

My own room. Doesn't sound so bad. It's certainly better than sleeping on the couch for the next five months. The idea is tempting, I have to admit. A real bed, privacy, not feeling like I'm intruding on Nora and Wyatt's life.

But then again, moving in with a virtual stranger? Even if he is Wyatt's friend and teammate?

It’s a risk, sure, but if it doesn’t work out, I can always move back in with Nora. And it’s not about Leo anyway, it’s about his kids.

Leaning back into the plush cushions, I cross my arms and meet Leo’s gaze. “Okay, I’m listening. What exactly is it you need?”