Page 18

“Oh, Victoria?” Edna says a little absently.

She’s a sweet old lady who has been the receptionist here at Stratford Elementary for the last thirty-one years, and she’s always asking me little favors since my schedule has a little more flexibility than the teachers who need to be in their classrooms ready to teach in eight minutes.

Thursday is the only day I don’t have a morning duty, and if I’m being honest, I was on my way to the breakroom to fill up my coffee jug.

Yes…jug. I need more than a cup, especially after another fight with Owen that kept me up late last night.

I don’t even remember what we were arguing about this time, but this morning I’m feeling like it’s not worth the effort anymore.

It leaves me feeling like I have a cloud over my head, but I push it away and force on a smile as I stop at Edna’s desk to see what I can do for her. “Yes?”

“We have a new student here, Harper, and she is registered for Ms. Miller’s class. Can you show her and her father where to go?” Edna says.

“Happy to.” I glance over at the student, a pretty little girl with long, dark hair and bright blue eyes, and then my eyes flick up to her father.

And then said eyes widen as my jaw drops.

Like, really. What are the flippin’ chances I’d run into an NFL star not once but twice in one lifetime…let alone in a one-week period?

“Oh my goodness,” I murmur, and then I clear my throat as my senses seem to kick back in. “Welcome to Stratford Elementary, Harper,” I say brightly, ignoring her father and his clenched teeth and that sexy jaw working back and forth with a bit of anger. “I’m Ms. Hartley, and I’ll show you around on our way to Ms. Miller’s class. Sound good?”

I vaguely recall a nasty comment about his sex life and perhaps the team he plays for.

And…he’s a father?

Why does that make him even hotter?

Is he a single father?

It doesn’t matter. I’m not single.

Are those rumors I mentioned about his sex life actually false?

“Are you excited for your first day?” I ask Harper as we walk down the hallway. I wonder what brings a little girl to a new school in the middle of March, but I’ve learned it’s better not to ask just in case it’s something they don’t want to discuss.

“Not really,” she mumbles, and I offer a laugh.

“Stratford is amazing,” I say. We walk outside and I point to some of the buildings. “That’s the cafeteria, and over there is the library.” We walk toward the fourth and fifth-grade building, and I point out some other stuff along the way. Eventually we walk down the fifth-grade hallway, and I pause inside Mandy’s door.

“Ms. Miller, your new student and her dad are here,” I say, and she glances up from her desk where she’s sitting as she marks up some papers.

“Oh great!” She stands, and she walks over to one of the student desks. “This is your desk!”

She decorated it with a welcome book created out of papers from every kid in the class. They each drew a picture and wrote a note welcoming her to Ms. Miller’s class, and it’s such a sweet sentiment to try to help a fifth grader adapt to her new school.

“And Mr. Randall?” she says, looking at Travis. “Oh, wait a second. You’re not Mr. Randall. You’re Travis Woods!”

He chuckles. “I am. Is Bella Wilkinson in this class?”

She nods. “Yes! Oh, right, you play with her dad. Well, not play with , but the game, football. Oh God, you know what I mean.” She holds a hand to her forehead, clearly flustered at the extremely gorgeous man standing in her classroom.

We’ve all seen the hot dads before, but Travis Woods takes it to an entirely different level.

He’s a DILF to the extreme.

My tummy flips again.

Oh, hell no.

Stop it.

Mandy takes Travis out into the hallway for a quick chat, and I stay with Harper, who’s flipping through the book the other kids made her.

She glances at each page, but she doesn’t take the time to read them, as if she’s just looking at the pictures before she moves on to the next page. Maybe she’ll read them later. I’m sure this is all a bit overwhelming for her.

She looks inside the open front book box of her desk and spots a folder and a pencil box. She pulls them out, and she finds a set of markers and some blank paper.

And then she sets to doodling.

My eyes move to the way she’s gripping her pencil. It’s not the usual way kids are taught to grip, and by fifth grade that usually straightens itself out.

I study her for a beat, and I watch as she creates a beautiful unicorn creature with just her pencil. The grip doesn’t seem to be holding her back from her sketch.

Mandy walks back in, and she wiggles her eyebrows at me. I hold in a giggle, and then I spot Travis still standing by the door.

“Thanks for your help, Ms. Hartley,” Mandy says. “Have a great day!”

It’s a clear dismissal as Mandy heads over to chat privately with Harper and students start to fill the hallway, but I don’t really want to go out there because Travis is standing there and I don’t particularly want to face him. On the one hand, I don’t want to be hit on again. On the other, I don’t want to face him after I was rude to him after he hit on me, and not on top of the fact that I’m just not in the mood to be friendly this morning, particularly given the fact that my coffee jug is still empty.

I’m definitely not caffeinated enough to deal with Travis Woods this morning.

But I also don’t really have a choice since he’s still standing there obviously waiting for me.

I give in and head toward the hallway.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks.

“I’m so sorry, but I have work to get to.” I keep my eyes focused down the hallway rather than looking at him.

“It’ll just take a second.”

“Unless it’s about Harper, we don’t really have anything to disc—”

“It is,” he assures me, cutting me off.

I blow out a breath. “Fine.”

We head out to the courtyard together, and I can feel his hot gaze on my profile.

My traitorous tummy flips again.

Dammit. Knock that shit off, tummy.

I wait for him to start the conversation, but he doesn’t…so I do.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” I begin.

He’s quiet, and then he says, “I was with her mother once a decade ago. She was married. Her husband couldn’t have children, so she basically used me for what she needed. They raised her, and Thursday night I found out they were in a tragic accident and named me in their will as her guardian.”

I gasp.

Thursday night? Wasn’t that the night I brought home dinner from the Gridiron for Owen?

“Whoa. So life just changed for both of you,” I murmur.

“In every single way possible. I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” he admits. “I guess since you’re a familiar face even though you crushed me the other night.”

I stop walking and stare at him with my jaw hanging open. Kids rush past us to get to their classes, and one bumps into me at my sudden stop.

“I crushed you?” I repeat. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

He shrugs with so much nonchalance I get the sudden urge to slap him despite the way my stomach is flipping back and forth.

Don’t hit a student’s parent. Don’t hit a student’s parent. Don’t hit a student’s parent.

I repeat the mantra that I’ve unfortunately had to say before in my head, even though the truth is I wouldn’t so much as hit a fly let alone an actual person.

“I don’t take rejection well,” he admits, and he looks off into the distance and I can’t help but study his jawline for a second.

It’s a huge mistake, looking at that jawline. Huge.

It sends a flutter right down between my legs, and I don’t like it one bit.

The only one my vagina should be fluttering for is my boyfriend …never mind the fight we had last night.

Never mind that all I’ve thought about all morning is that maybe he shouldn’t be my boyfriend any longer.

I blow out a breath. “Then don’t hit on women who are in relationships,” I whisper-yell at him. I glance back at the building we just walked out of, and the words leave my mouth before I can stop them. “Oh, that’s your thing, isn’t it?”

His brows knit together. “My thing is football.”

I twist my lips as I pin my eyes on him. “Maybe, sure. But your thing is also going for women who aren’t available for you.” I wrinkle my nose in distaste. “Makes it easier to toss them aside, I bet.”

He looks shocked by my accusation, and even though it’s totally inappropriate to talk to a parent of a student that way, I can’t seem to stop myself.

He incites something in me…and the way he clenches his jaw again makes it clear that I incite something in him, too.

The bell rings, and kids scurry to get to class on time. The courtyard where we stand starts to clear except for a few kids who are running late.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say at his silence. “Does the truth hurt?”

He doesn’t bother to look around to see if any children are within hearing distance when he hisses his reply. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me.”

“I’d kindly ask you to watch your language as there are children present, sir.” I say it sweetly even though I’m certain nobody heard his curse word. I just can’t help the jab anyway.

I’m not sure why I’m acting like this.

This poor man just had his world flipped upside down. He was used to this bachelor lifestyle and suddenly he has a fifth grade girl that he’s responsible for. It’s admirable that he took her in, and yet I can’t bring myself to voice that admiration, instead choosing to focus on being a total bitch.

It’s like the only thing I can think about is the fact that he hit on me and I rejected him and what would those lips taste like and what would that jawline feel like between my legs?

Okay, no.

I will kindly exit that completely wrong train of thought and hop aboard another train stat.

Except now that the thought snuck into my mind, I can’t seem to make the image go away.