Page 6

K ENDALL

“ You’re Miss Wentworth?” Nash Humphries sneers at me like I’m a piece of gum on the bottom of his fancy Italian loafers.

And he does wear them. He doesn’t go all out in pre-game fancy suits like some of his other teammates, like Miles Buckingham, but he dresses sharp. A nice button down—often open at the collar—fancy-ass shoes, and dress pants that have to be tailor made to fit his thighs and ass.

Shit. That was his perfect ass I drooled over this morning. I’m embarrassed to say how easily the morning view made my panties wet.

“Yes, I’m Miss Wentworth. You’re Paisley’s dad?”

“Of course I am.”

“I wouldn’t know since her deadbeat father has yet to show his face around here. Not on opening day, Open House, or parent night. I’ll be sure to add that to your Father of the Year application.”

“Daddy! Pick me up like you always do.” Paisley tugs at his pants, and he snaps out of it, swooping her up into his arms.

She squeezes his cheeks and peppers his face with kisses.

If I didn’t detest the man so much, my panties would be soaked right now.

Fortunately, they’re only slightly damp.

It’s not my fault the man is gorgeous as sin.

Thankfully, he has the personality of a crocodile, which is the only thing that has kept me from wanting to jump his bones.

Nash’s smile is wide and genuine as he rubs his nose against his daughter’s. “Did you have a good day, Sweet Pea?”

“The best because you surprised me.”

I cock my brow and am surprised to see the dip in his grin. Wait. Is that...is that guilt I see wash over his face? Maybe the angry crock has a teensy weensy heart buried deep inside the wall of muscle.

“Get your things and we’ll stop for ice cream on the way home.”

“Yay!” She wiggles out of his arms and crashes back into his legs a second later, her backpack dragging on the floor.

Nash lifts his chin toward the pile of puzzle pieces on the floor. “Pick up your mess first, Pais.”

“Aww, man.” She drops her bag by his feet and slowly makes her way to the puzzle she and Oliver were working on.

He’s obviously pretending to be a decent father because of his neglect these past five weeks, but the way Paisley responded tells me maybe he does make her clean up after herself.

When she and Oliver are out of earshot, his attention and his evil scowl return to me. “I wouldn’t have recognized you out of your revealing clothes and the way you hang off every available and unavailable man at the bar.”

“Excuse me?”

“Does your administration know about your extracurricular activities? Your reputation isn’t one most would find complementary to a kindergarten teacher, especially at a school like Revere. I can’t believe my parents let you in my house with my daughter.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I growl at him, my voice low enough that Paisley and Oliver can’t hear me.

“Does your administration know what a farce you’re putting on? Pretending to be prim and proper Monday through Friday and then slutting around town on the weekends?”

“Do you need a minute to think about the fucking words coming out of your mouth?”

He lifts a brow and tips his head. “Exactly my point. Is this what you’re teaching our kids?”

I’m not one to be speechless. Ever. If we were anywhere but standing in my kindergarten class, I’d go ape shit crazy on him. Instead, I clench my teeth together and poke at his chest.

“Fuck. You.”

“I’ll be bringing up your behavior and your use of expletives in your classroom with your supervisor.”

“You’re lucky we’re in my classroom or I’d fucking throat punch you,” I seeth through my teeth.

“I’m ready to go home, Daddy.” Paisley wiggles between us and looks up at me. “Are you coming to our house today too, Miss Wentworth?”

I plaster on my best smile and crouch down to her level. “Not today, honey. That was a one off.”

“What’s a one off?”

“It means it was a one time situation. I was helping your grandma and grandpa out.”

“But I like playing with you.” She tilts her head to her father. “Can Miss Wentworth come for ice cream with us?”

“Miss Wentworth has a lot of cleaning up to do around here. Come on, Sweet Pea.” He takes her hand and I rise to standing.

She tugs him to the door and I hear him mutter under his breath, “Cleaning up her mouth and classroom while she looks for another job.”

I feel my face burn with anger. The fucking arrogance of this asshole. Somehow I keep my cool until after Oliver is picked up, then I finalize my lesson plans for tomorrow and text the group chat while I storm out to my car.

ME: 911 Emergency. Nachos and margaritas. Preferably in because I’m about to lose my shit.

I toss my cell in the cup holder in my car and crank the music as I drive home. My sister and mom are at speech therapy, and I hope to be calmed down or gone before they return. I hate them seeing me in a mood.

The weeks after Jason and I broke up—or rather, once I learned the truth about him—were brutal. I’ve never seen my sister so distraught, and if it wasn’t for my worry about her, I’d still be crying in my room.

I strip out of my work clothes and change into leggings and a sports bra. It’s either get rip-roaring drunk at four o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon or burn off my rage at the gym. The cheapest one in the city is only two blocks away, so I put on my headphones and run there.

Once I check in, I see two missed texts.

ROWAN: I’m on call so I can’t partake in the margs, but I’m down for some nachos and off the ledge support.

RILEY: I can be at Row’s by six. I’ll bring the tequila.

ME: Perfect. I’ll bring the nacho fixings. See you then.

I’m too frazzled to lift weights, so I hop on a spin bike and ride until my quads are on fire and my eyes burn from sweat. By the time I’m walking back home, I’m somewhat cooled down, from the ride and from Nash fucking Humphries.

After a quick shower, I text my mom to let her know I’ll be out late then stop at the store for therapy food.

Rowan greets me at her door, taking the bags from me, and Riley already has a margarita made for me. Bless my best friends. I haven’t radioed in a 911 call since Jason the two-timing-cheater-asshole drama.

My friends know not to pester me while we make the nachos. I’m not one to hold back, so there’s no need to dig for information. The fact that I’m quiet has them worried. I can tell by the way they keep glancing at each other and shrugging as if talking in code.

What’s wrong with Kendall?

I don’t know. Maybe she’s gone off the deep end.

So deep she’s quiet. That bitch never shuts up.

Yeah, they’re totally talking telepathically. I would too if I knew how to close my trap. The fact that I’ve been mute, sans the stomping around Rowan’s miniscule kitchen and chopping vegetables more aggressively than needs be, is telling on its own.

When the nachos are in the oven, I pour myself a second margarita and plop down on the couch.

“I fucking hate Nash Humphries.”

Rowan and Riley look at each other with confusion clear on their faces, then at me.

“Nash? He’s always so quiet. When did you see him?” Riley takes a seat on the floor across from me.

“Did you know he has a daughter?”

“Really?” Rowan is as shocked as I was this afternoon.

Well, maybe not as shocked. She hadn’t ogled his perfect ass in a pair of form-fitting boxers this morning. Hell, I hadn’t even realized I hadn’t had a cup of coffee until my break at ten o’clock. I can’t even begin to function without my caffeine fix.

Who knew that a fine piece of ass was the equivalent to a shot of java?

“Walker told me a few months ago. Hump is pretty quiet about it. I’ve pestered Walker for details but he says Hump doesn’t like to talk about his personal life. Walker respects that since he’s the same.”

“Was the same.” I point out. “Now the guy doesn’t stop talking about his personal life.”

Riley grins like a woman madly in love. Because, hell, she is. “Correction: he’s quiet about his past, but he has no problem showing off his love for me.”

“Gag.” I pretend to stick a finger in my throat.

“How did you learn of his daughter, and why does that make you hate him so much?” Rowan, our voice of reason asks, bringing the attention back to me. Which I don’t mind. I love being the center of attention. But not when it’s something like this.

He humiliated me. Sure, maybe no one else heard his insults, but I did.

“His daughter is in my class.”

“Aww. That sweet—” Riley sees my glare and cuts herself off. Smart friend.

“He’s never once stepped foot in Revere. His parents take care of his daughter, but today he picked her up. He was surprised to see me and called me a fucking slut.” At my friends’ gasps, I clarify. “In so many words.”

I back up and tell them about Beth asking me to watch Paisley last night, and fill them in on everything that happened since. Minus the man-candy ogling in his kitchen. It’s completely irrelevant.

“I don’t understand what his problem is with you. You two never interact much when we go out after the games.” Riley draws her knees to her chest.

“And that’s on him. I’ve always had the sense he doesn’t care for me much, and that my flirting makes him uncomfortable, so I may or may not go extra hard on the flirt.

But still, that’s like three or four times I’ve ever seen him out.

And once was at your wedding. It’s always been playful fun and I’ve never said or done anything mean to him.

So why this bullshit evilness? Especially after I bailed him and his parents out by watching Paisley last night?

” I finish off my drink as the oven timer goes off.

Rowan gets up to see to the nachos and I reach for the water bottle Riley hands me. While I’d love to soak my mood up with tequila, there’s no way I can manage a room of sixteen kindergarteners with a hangover.

“That doesn’t sound like him. Nash has always been nice. Quiet, even. I can ask Walker to talk to him.”

“No. Absolutely not. There’s no need to get anyone else mixed up with Nash Potato’s split personality. If he wants to think I’m a ho-bag, fine.”

“Do you think he’ll follow through on his threat about your job?” Rowan asks as she sets the pile of cheesy chips on the coffee table.

I reach for the most loaded chip I can find and crush it into my mouth before responding. It’s ridiculous how upset he was at finding out I’m Paisley’s teacher, and that I watched her for one night. Shouldn’t he be worshiping me with gratitude? Whatever beef he has is on him, not me.

I’m not a weak, insecure female who is going to scurry away with her tail between her legs. My reputation at school is perfect. The kids and parents love me. How I spend my personal time has nothing to do with him or my job unless I allow it to interfere, which it hasn’t.

I’ve never dated a father of one of my students, even though plenty of single—and married—fathers have asked over the years.

“What are you going to do?” Rowan asks as she piles chips onto her paper plate.

“Nothing. Play it by ear. Whatever his problem is, it’s all on him. Hopefully he’ll ask to have Paisley moved to the other kindergarten class. I’ll miss her, but it beats putting up with her asshole father for another seven months.”

Rowan’s phone rings and she takes it, stepping into her room for privacy.

“Walker can be discreet. Are you sure you don’t want me to ask him to put some feelers out? Maybe name drop you here and there to see if Nash cracks?”

“I’m sure. Thank you though.”

“Sorry, girls. I have to go into work. You’re more than welcome to stay if you want.”

“If I stay, I’ll finish the bottle of tequila.” We do our usual group hug. “I love you guys. Thanks for listening to me tonight.”

“You have a beautiful heart and are the sweetest person I know, Kendall. Don’t let Nash’s words make you think otherwise.” Rowan pushes back my hair and kisses my forehead.

“Bullshit. I’m snarky, sarcastic, swear like a sailor, and love to get fucked against a wall. You’re the sweet one, Row. And Riley, you’re the whole fucking perfect package so just shut up and look pretty while I give you one more hug.”

We walk out together and give another round of hugs before going our respective ways. When I get home, I don’t unload on my mother or sister. Instead, I cuddle up with them on the couch and watch the game show channel that they love so much.

No matter how shitty my day is, I’m thankful to have them in my life. Rowan, Riley, and my small-but-perfect family.

Nash Humphries can go to Hell.