Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 133855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
What hurt the most was how much I still loved her. How much I missed the relationship we’d once had before she had lost herself.
But my daddy and I? We still had each other, and I was going to be sure I could make it right if I could. Hold some of his brokenness the way he’d always held mine.
I swallowed my own anxiety. “I promised him I was going to figure it out.” I made sure to keep the conversation between Tessa and myself since none of the other teachers knew the situation we were in. “I told him I would try to scrounge some money together to keep the foreclosure at bay at least until we can figure out a longer-term solution.”
How we were going to manage that, I didn’t know.
Tessa sighed. “You can’t fix everything, Eden. I’m worried about you.”
“Says the one who sent me into the lion’s den.” Voice wry, I sent her as much of a tease as I could.
“Well, since you would have tried to figure it out yourself, no matter what I said, I thought I might as well point you in the right direction. What was it like, anyway? Seriously, I still can’t believe they started you immediately. That’s a big break.”
I huffed out part of the disgruntledness I’d felt last night. “It was pretty clear the reason I’d had to start immediately was the owner was testing me.”
Speculation arched her brow. “How so?”
“Let’s just say he took it upon himself to prove I didn’t fit in.”
A flash of annoyance darted across her face. “And how exactly was he trying to do that?”
I squeezed the little boy’s hand who was still belting out his song, the child grinning as he stood there watching the other children play, as content as could be. I angled toward Tessa. “Some hunters love to play with their food before they go in for the kill.”
I let my brows raise for my hairline, letting her connect the dots.
“Ah…” she grumbled, picking up what I was laying down. “That kind.”
“Yup.”
“Let me guess, he’s ridiculously hot and thinks the world revolves around him?”
I vented out a raw sound. “That doesn’t even come close to describing whatever he is.”
Hot.
Gorgeous.
Terrifying.
A total jerk and somehow…protective, in this weird, overbearing way.
“Speaking of hot guys…” She angled her head in the direction of a white Porsche Panamera that pulled into the parent pick-up line on the other side of the wrought-iron fence. “There he is.”
And I wondered if I was seeing things.
Hallucinating.
If this was some kind of cruel, sick joke or if I’d just done something really terrible in another life and this was my punishment.
Because there was no mistaking the smoldering eyes staring me down through the windshield where he came to a stop at the curb.
The way shock blanched his unbearably gorgeous face before his jaw clenched in what appeared hatred.
Or maybe glee.
With the man, I was sure they were one and the same.
My hand tightened on the child’s.
Instinctual.
A gut reaction to protect him.
Shivers raced. This unsettled feeling that something was coming. Something I didn’t understand, but something I should fear.
The man climbed from the driver’s seat of the flashy car that I wouldn’t have thought would fit him at all but somehow right then looked like the perfect accent piece.
He straightened to his full, menacing height.
“There he is! There he is!” The child started jumping up and down and waving his hand in the air. “Hi, Dad, hi! Over here!”
That seething intensity flashed through the air. My head spun and my knees knocked, my mouth going dry.
Trent Lawson strode toward the gate, all dark swagger and don’t-give-a-shit attitude, even though there were at least fifteen signs asking parents to stay in their cars and their children would be escorted out.
I got the sense the man wasn’t exactly one to follow the rules.
Because there he was, dressed a lot like he’d been last night, black jeans and a black v-neck tee and black boots that were unlaced. All that exposed, inked flesh somehow appeared obscene.
I had the urge to wrap the child up and take him into hiding. Run to the rest of the children and usher them to safety.
Emergency evacuation.
But I just stood there.
Dumbfounded.
Finally, I mumbled, “That’s your dad?”
Gage Lawson.
Of course.
This really was some cruel, sick joke, and I was the very brunt of it.
“Yep! That’s him.” Gage was jumping and pointing. “Tell him I got an A, Miss Murphy! He’s gonna be so proud!”
Trent Lawson strode toward the gate with the clear intention of barging in.
Finally, I found my voice, calling out before he made it through the barrier. “Sir, you need to wait in your car. School isn’t over for a couple minutes, and we will bring your child to you. Parents aren’t allowed in this area without signing in at the office first.”