Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“It really should,” I’d have said, voice rough, sheets low on my waist, the lights dim in my room, the heat shimmering between us in the dark. “Right the fuck now.”
My throat tightens with lust. My mind pictures her closing the distance between us—climbing into my bed, unstoppable, impossibly sexy. I’d toss the covers off, invite her to join me. Watch me. Climb onto my lap. Sink onto my cock.
A rumble rises in my chest, threatening to break free, but I swallow it down along with all this red-hot, fucking stupid desire.
Because then what?
We’ve been down this road before. Traveled far down it last week. I’m hardly able to resist her as it is, but she’s working for me all season.
I have to exercise some restraint.
My kids adore her.
Hockey is going well.
I need to keep my focus—on the game, my family, the season.
That’s all.
This is not the time to play this kind of dangerous sex roulette.
“Did you like the NutRageous bar?” I ask, changing the subject with zero warning.
As she finishes a bite of her avocado bagel, she rolls with it. “It was amazing. Have you ever tried one? I saved a little bit for you. Even though it’s not your guilty pleasure,” she adds, looking down now again.
She says it like she’s not my guilty pleasure. Like I’ve rejected her.
Because you did, you dumbass.
She busies herself with tracking down the candy bar she saved in a Tupperware container, then hands it to me, and I say, “I bet I’ll like it.”
Like that can erase the rejection from the other day.
“I bet you can’t resist it,” she says, but it’s not said flirtatiously, like she might have said it before. It’s said matter-of-factly.
I really need to get back to the way we were. Maybe this candy will help. Hell if I know. I take a bite.
And I can see why she loves it, even if candy’s not my thing. The flavors collide in a sweet explosion. “Damn, this is good,” I say, focusing on facts.
“Where did you find it?”
“I went online and ordered it for rush delivery yesterday morning. I wanted you to have your favorite candy bar—the one you never had as a kid.”
Her smile is soft, a little wistful. “You kind of surprised me.”
And I don’t think she’s had a lot of that. Surprises. Kindness. Gifts.
She had a shitty boyfriend for six years who cheated on her and betrayed her on their wedding day.
And before that, she was raised by a mean fucking man.
“Only kind of?” I ask, playing it light, finding my footing again.
“It was only kind of because…I’ve kind of gotten used to nice things from you.”
The breath flees my lungs as the weight of that hits me. The precious, precarious weight of responsibility.
There it is—the reason.
The reason I can’t close the distance, grab her face, and kiss her like she’s all I think about.
I don’t want to mess up anything in Sabrina’s life.
I want to be a good man.
The one she hasn’t had before.
And good men?
They don’t fuck their nannies.
21
DADDY’S HOME
Sabrina
“Fractions are totally cool!” I tell Parker as I explain the math problem that’s vexing him.
He shoots me a side-eye. “I don’t think I’d call them cool.”
“They’re the coolest part of math,” I argue, taking breaks to help him with homework while I prep an Asian noodle dish. Josie sent me the recipe, since she loves trying new things in the kitchen—and well, so do I.
After I chop the tofu, I move pieces around into a stack, with eight total pieces. “See? Now it’s a tofu fraction tower.”
Parker squints at it. “How is that a fraction tower?”
I nudge a piece to the side. “Now I’ve subtracted one-eighth. What’s left?”
He leans in, more intrigued than he wants to let on. “Seven-eighths?”
“Exactly! Tofu fractions in action.”
“I guess that makes sense. But I still don’t know if I like tofu.”
“It’s all in the seasoning. And seasoning is math too.”
From the living room, Luna calls out, “Math would be even cooler if you could do it with chocolate chips.” She’s working on a history assignment, groaning every few minutes about how boring it is.
“But remember, if we don’t learn the lessons of history, we’ll repeat them,” I say as I toss the kale and tofu into a saucepan and add some spices.
She doesn’t even look up. “What’s so bad about that?”
I pause. “Uh…there were some pretty bad moments in history.”
Tyler’s returning from his road trip tonight, but I’m not sure exactly when. Even without him in the home, I’m smiling, having fun, getting excited to spend time with these clever kids with their big hearts and curious minds. It’s not skating, but looking after them gives me a different kind of rush and warmth. It’s been a fun few days with the kids—school runs, Lego club versus karate debates with Parker, ice skating lessons with Luna, hanging the disco ball she picked out at a thrift shop I took her to in Hayes Valley, and figuring out my own schedule between coaching clients. Tyler’s mom helps a lot, sometimes picking them up so I can make my lessons, and I adore her and her pack of Chihuahuas. Elle took the kids one evening, too, so that was helpful as I had back-to-back-to-back lessons with three new skating students. They all found me through my videos—some the tutorials, some the free skates I do. My coaching business is steadily growing. I didn’t make it to see Elena these last few days, but it’s hard when I have the kids to myself. It’s a lot to balance.