Page 8 of Learn Your Lesson

Even after what I could assume was a long day of herding little brats at the private school she taught at, she still had a glow about her. I’d been annoyed that I’d even noticed her shapely body when she’d come to the rink earlier. Now, with practice over and nothing else calling my attention, it was all I could do not to stare too hardat those curves as she bent down to help Ava out of her booster seat, the swell of her ass framed perfectly by that damned polka dot skirt.

Fucking Christ.

She handed Ava her backpack as I straightened my shoulders and brought my eyesawayfrom her backside. My daughter slipped the straps over her shoulders with a blank stare, dragging her feet a little on her way over to me.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” I said in greeting, ruffling her hair when she made it to me. “Have fun?”

“Yeah,” she said — in the way someone might sound if they were telling you about a root canal. “I painted a butterfly.”

“A butterfly? That sounds pretty. Can I see it?”

“Nacho threw up on it,” she said, and then she was heading inside without further explanation or waiting for me to follow. “Guess you were right. Cats are assholes.”

She disappeared inside the house with me internally cursing myself for how blatantly unaware I was of my mouth around my kid. I heard Chef Patel greeting Ava inside at the same time I heard a soft giggle behind me.

I turned slowly, cocking a brow when I found Chloe with one arm crossed over her abdomen and the other covering her mouth as she fought back another laugh.

“Find that amusing, do you?” I asked.

“Oh, immensely so.”

I shook my head, nodding toward the front door. “Please, come in.”

I really did try not to grit the words, but I was fairly certain I failed in that attempt as Chloe smirked to herself and led the way inside. She paused once she was in the foyer, and I shut the door behind us.

“I didn’t even think to ask if you had a booster seat,” I said.

“Always have one in the car.”

“You have kids?”

Her cheeks flushed red enough you’d have thought I asked her if she was wearing panties.

“No. Just like to be prepared as a teacher, and a babysitter. I take care of my neighbor’s kids sometimes.”

I nodded. “Well, thank you. For bringing her to me, and even more so for taking her to your house while I finished up at the rink.”

I pulled my wallet from my back pocket, thumbing out a few hundred-dollar bills and handing them to her.

Chloe blanched, blinking before her wide eyes slid to mine. “That’s entirely unnecessary.”

I blinked back at her, but didn’t smile or drop my hand.

With an exasperated sigh, she took the money, slipping it inside the purse she had on that looked like a gold coin. She snapped it shut again before folding her hands together.

“Um, would you like something to drink?” I asked, so out of practice having a guest in my house I was practically breaking out in hives.

“Wine would be great.”

Shit.

Chloe smirked at my expression. “You don’t have wine, do you?”

“He doesn’t drink,” Chef Patel said, rounding out of the kitchen and wiping her wet hands on a dish towel. She threw it over her shoulder before stepping down to greet Chloe with an outstretched hand and her million-dollar smile. “Fortunately for you, I do — and I have a stash in the kitchen.”

“You do?” I asked.

Chef rolled her eyes at me, then looked at Chloe and pointed her thumb my way. “No one better on the ice. But at home? This one’s about as observant as a turkey.”