Page 40 of The Heartbreaker

“Really?” Her brows rose. “Or are you going to her classroom to make sure she got there and didn’t get lost?”

That was exactly what I planned to do, but I didn’t have a visitor badge—something that was required if parents roamed too far into the hallways. Since I didn’t have time to get a badge, I hoped the policies were a little more lenient on day one.

Because, fuck, I just needed to know our girl was all right.

“I had too much coffee—that’s all.” I nodded toward the door. “Go. I’ll see you in a second.”

Before she could argue, I started walking in the direction of where Daisy had been headed, knowing there was a restroom not far away—a detail I remembered from when we’d toured the school. But when I reached it, I kept going, turning the corner to where all the first-grade classrooms were located.

Some of the teachers were outside the doors, greeting the kids as they entered. Others were already in the classroom, positioned at the front, speaking to the students who had taken a seat.

Daisy’s room was the last door on the right, her teacher absent from the entryway, so I moved in front of it, peeking intoher classroom. Daisy was seated in the second row, the straps of her backpack hanging across the top of her chair, sitting tall while she held a pencil that had a pink puff instead of an eraser.

My baby.

She couldn’t look any cuter or tinier in a room that felt far too large and mature for her.

How is she six already? And in first grade?

Damn.

I was relieved that she’d found her classroom, that she was in her chair and already paying attention.

Jana would be thrilled when I told her—and I would.

As I started to turn around to head back to the entrance, my gaze shifted to the front of the class, where it connected with the eyes of the woman standing in front of the whiteboard.

The woman who was my daughter’s teacher.

Miss Lark.

I took in her eyes.

Her hair.

Those lips.

And as the realization came over me, my fucking jaw dropped.

EIGHT

Addison

What in the hell is Ridge doing here? How did he know where I worked?

Did he follow me home from the club after my shift and put a tracking device on my car?

Did he somehow get my last name and research my employment?

Is he really going to this extent just to talk to me?

Is that flattering, or am I completely freaked out?

I didn’t know.

I just knew I was staring at him in the doorway when he said, “Addy …” And I continued to look at him, completely stunned, when he added, “I need to talk to you.”

I turned toward my class of students, my entire body shaking as I took inventory of what they were all doing. Some were in their seats, waiting for me to introduce myself. Some were still trickling in through the door in the back of the classroom. Some were clustered in groups, talking.