Page 22 of Learn Your Lesson

“Tuck,” Ava said, and her shoulders squared, showing how proud she was of herself. “Oh, and Daddy’s favorite word — fuck!”

Chef Patel said something in Hindi that sounded disapproving, and I just tongued my cheek and cocked a brow at Will.

“You are far too smart and observant for your own good,” he said, nuzzling her neck while Ava fought off a grin. It was the closest I’d seen her to losing that fight. “Which means you also know better than to say that word, don’t you?”

Ava flushed and nodded.

“You know what to do.”

Will sat his daughter down, and as if it was the most natural punishment in the world, she dropped down to the floor and did five pushups — with rather impressive form.

He gave her a high five when she was standing again, and after warning her not to use grown up language until she was older, he ruffled her hair.

“Alright, Pumpkin. Why don’t you go wash your hands and we’ll have some of that shrimp I can smell that Chef Patel is making for us.”

“Harissa shrimp,” Chef called from the kitchen. “With butter couscous and quinoa salad.”

“You’re too good to me,” Will called back.

“Oh, trust me, I know. You go washyourhands, too,” she added, sliding out of the kitchen long enough to point her wooden spoon at him. “I know how smelly that locker room is, and I don’t trust any kind of showers taken in there.”

He chuffed something close to a laugh, and then when Ava had run off, he let out a long, heavy sigh, his large hand running back through his damp hair.

That movement was tied to something low and electric in my belly. Every time he did it, I had to squeeze my thighs together against whatever kind of magic he cast.

It was then that I noticed the tight lines of his face, the worry etched between his brows. This wasn’t his usual scowl.

Something was weighing on his shoulders.

“Long day?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I think I deal with more children than you do, the way my team has been acting lately.”

I smirked, but then Will’s phone was buzzing, and he frowned at the screen before excusing himself.

Five minutes later, Ava was washed up and was putting her crayons and coloring book away like I’d asked her to when Will rounded into the kitchen on a curse.

“Change of plans,” he said, looking at his watch. “Uncle Mitch got called out of town and can’t stay with Ava. I need to get her ready and see if Maven or someone can step in.”

Chef didn’t miss a beat, nor did she ask any questions or check to see if Will was okay. She just said, “I’ll box this up so you can eat it on the plane,” and then immediately got to that while I was still trying to process.

“Called out of town?”

“He’s a lineman,” Will explained. “Apparently there was a pretty bad storm in north Alabama last night, and they’re calling for help to get power back up and running.” He was already pulling up Maven’s contact on his phone. “Excuse me, need to make this call.”

“I can stay with her.”

Chef paused where she was boxing Will’s meal into a glass container, something in her face telling me she hoped Will would accept this proposal so he could eat her food fresh. It had to kill her, to go through all that work only to know her dish would be eaten cold on a plane.

“I won’t be back until late tomorrow night after the game,” he said. “Maybe even Friday morning, depending on what Coach decides.”

I shrugged. “I don’t mind. My mom should be able to check in on the cats until I get home, and Ava and Idogo to the same place in the morning,” I reminded him.

“I don’t want to be a hassle. I’m sure you’d like to be home in your own bed.”

“It’s really not a hassle at all,” I assured him. “It’s one night, maybe two. And something tells me your guest bed is probably a decade newer than the mattress I currently sleep on.”

I said it with a smile, all light with the joke, but I didn’t miss how Will frowned even deeper at the comment like it was something he needed to fix.