Page 42 of The Heartbreaker

I felt all the blood drain from my face. “Oh …”

I studied him—the details that I already knew—and then I glanced at Daisy. A name I’d written multiple times over the last couple of days as I got my classroom ready. The eyes, the chin, the same color hair.

My throat was on fire when I looked back at Ridge. “Daisy Cole, and you’re?—”

“Ridge Cole.” He let that sink in. “When I dropped her off this morning, I was worried she wouldn’t find her classroom or wouldn’t feel settled. First grade is a big fucking deal—much bigger than kindergarten. So, I came here to check on her. What I didn’t expect to find was you.”

I was trying to process this.

For my brain to catch up to the reality of his daughter being in my class for the entire school year.

That I’d slept with Daisy’s father only a few evenings ago.

His arms crossed, his jacket tightening around them, showing the size of his muscles. “We need to talk.”

“Not here?—”

“Certainly not here.” His gaze was intensifying, to the point where I not only felt naked, but I felt like he could see the wetness inside me. “I’d tell you to call me, but you don’t exactly have a track record of following through with that.”

That was a whole other thing I needed to discuss with him.

Why was the list of topics so suddenly long?

“I—”

“Why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll call you?” he said, cutting me off.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

That would give me time to get my thoughts straight, to calm my racing heart. I needed to feel less seen because here, atthis very second, I felt like a spotlight was over me, and I was breaking out into a sweat.

His phone was already in his hand, so I rattled off my number and added, “I’ll text you during my next break. I promise.”

“I’ve heard that promise before.” He smiled and took another peek inside the class. “Be good to my baby,” he said before he walked away.

I took only a few seconds to stare at the back of him. He wore a suit in cobalt, the same color as his eyes. Brown leather shoes. A hand still holding his phone, the other at his side, fingers dangling. Fingers that I remembered so well—long, thin, extremely experienced, and well-versed in the anatomy of a woman’s body. A stature that was tall, broad, and incredibly sexy from this angle.

Oh God.

This would only be my luck, I thought as I walked back and positioned myself in front of the whiteboard, the bell going off as soon as I stilled.

I waited for the chatter to calm and for all the students to take their seats and for my throat to loosen and cool before I spoke. “Hello, everyone. I’m Miss Lark”—I pointed to where I’d already written my name on the board—“and I’m so, so excited to have you in my class and to teach you all the different things we’re going to cover this year. Let’s start by going around the room, and each of you will say your name and one of your favorite things you did over the summer. Who wants to go first? Raise your hand.”

Almost every hand shot up in the air.

But the one that captured my attention was the little girl in the second row with a missing tooth in front and a puffy-topped pink pencil in her hand. She was adorable—her smile, her outfit, her enthusiasm as she wiggled in her seat.

I aimed my finger at her and said, “Why don’t you start?”

“My name is Daisy Cole,” she said in a mousy voice, appropriate for her age, which only made her cuter. “I’m six years old and in first grade”—she giggled as though she realized she’d given more information than was asked—“and my favorite memory from this summer is when my daddy took me to Disneyland. It wassooofun. We rode all the rides together, and I got a bellyache ’cause I ate so much ice cream.”

NINE

Ridge

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Rhett said from the other side of my desk after I finished telling the story about my run-in with Addy this morning.