1
KELSEY
“Think he’s big everywhere?”
“I bet it’s as big as his bank balance. God, could you imagine taking a rich dick for a ride? I bet he likes it a little rough. Yeah, I’d cheat with him.”
I held the preschool door open for Tanner to run back outside to the playground. He’d gotten mud all over his hands, and I’d taken him to get washed up. As he dashed off to the slide, I overheard the two moms chatting.
“Mmm, I wouldn’t mind being pressed up against a wall by him. I’m going to find a way to make that happen.”
It was afternoon pickup time, and the women had arrived a few minutes earlier. They were sitting together on one of the benches within the fenced playground area. While their voices were tipped low because the subject wasn’t for little ears, I couldn’t miss their words. Or the direction they were staring. Or who they were staring at.
A man. A big, hot, cowboy in the parking lot.
He closed the driver’s door on an old pickup truck—that definitely hid the size of his bank balance—set his Stetson on his head and made his way over to the low fence, his gait long. I didn’t miss the play of muscles beneath his well-worn jeans or the way the sleeves of his white button-up were rolled up and showed off corded forearms. He leaned down and set his hands on the tops of the rails and smiled as he watched the kids.
Whoa. That smile was lethal. For my panties.
I’d never seen him before, but that didn’t mean anything. I’d only worked at the preschool for a few months, and since it was summer, kids came on random days based on vacation plans.
Claire, a five-year old with her blonde hair in a single braid down her back, ran over to him and flung her arms up.
Her father easily tossed her up in the air and gave her a noisy kiss on her cheek. She giggled then wiggled in his hold to get down. He set her back on her sneakered feet, and she ran off to the swings, not yet ready to leave because she’d just learned how to pump her legs and swing by herself.
My ovaries just exploded watching the two of them. There was nothing sweeter—and oddly arousing—than seeing a guy being so good with his child. It wasn’t only me who felt that way since the two other women were fanning themselves with their hands as they continued to stare his way.
Those ladies? They already had kids. Men of their own. They could fantasize about Mr. Hot Cowboy all they wanted because they were going to go home and get some from their husbands.
Me? No husband. No boyfriend. The only getting some I’d get was from my vibrator.
I frowned, the hot cowboy thoughts knocked to the curb by the bitterness that thinking about my ex brought on. The asshole had been smooth and a two-timer. Sure, I’d gotten myself in my current mess all by myself by being gullible and too free with my feelings, but Tom had also lied out his ass telling me he was single. Only when I’d loaded up my car and followed him did I find out he was far, far from it. A wife and two kids didn’t make a guy single, that was for fucking sure. Leaving my life in Colorado behind had been plain stupid, and now I was stuck here.
Of course, that wasn’t all Tom’s fault. After finding out about his secret family, I’d chosen a horrible roommate off the Internet who’d decided to steal all my belongings except my clothes… plus my rent money and left me high and dry. Broke and evicted. That was how I was stuck in Montana.
I shouldn’t have trusted Tom. I shouldn’t have trusted Laila, the klepto. I thought I’d learned from my mother and the way she clung to man after man, always being kicked to the curb after they were tired of her. Since she only contacted me after her latest breakup, I assumed she was still in Phoenix with guy number seven. Or was it eight? Guys weren’t to be trusted. And yet, I had. Just once.
I sighed, kicking myself the most for being more like my mom than I thought.
The women giggled which broke me from my thoughts. While Montana wasn’t known for dressing up, they were stylish in jeans, cute tops and wedge sandals. Their hair was artfully tousled, and their makeup subtle but effective. If the hot cowboy was going to go for a woman on the preschool playground, it was going to be one of them. Definitely not me in my old jeans and sneakers. My t-shirt had blue paint on the front, and my hair was pulled back out of my face in a simple ponytail although the slight breeze had tugged some wild curls free.
I had no idea why I was even thinking this guy would choose any one of us. No doubt he was married. Of course, he was married, especially since one of the women said it would be cheating. His wife probably had blonde hair like their daughter’s and knew just how big he was. Everywhere.
“Mommy, Claire pulled my hair.” The whiny voice came from Tamara, who was complaining to one of the moms. She’d just turned four and was cute as could be but was definitely going to be a handful as she got older.
Tamara’s mother, who had the same dark hair but not in pigtails, lifted her head and scanned the playground. I did, too. Claire was still on the swings, laughing at something Tanner was saying as he sat on the swing beside hers.
The woman stood, took Tamara’s hand and came over to me. “You need to punish Claire. She’s mean.”
I arched a brow but didn’t say anything, only squatted down in front of Tamara. Guys I couldn’t deal with, but kids? I had them down. Giving her a small smile, I said. “Hair pulling, huh?”
She nodded, her pigtails bobbing. “It hurt.”
“I haven’t seen you anywhere near Claire on the playground.”
“She did it,” Tamara countered right away, her lower lip sticking out.
I cocked my head. “I’m not saying she didn’t, but when did she do it, honey?”
Tamara looked up at her mom.
“Does it matter?” the woman asked. “I believe my daughter. What are you going to do about it?”
“I am doing something about it,” I replied, tipping my chin up, so I could meet the mom’s eyes. “We talk out our problems here. When did Claire pull your hair?” My gaze flicked to Tamara.
She bit her lip and glanced at me then away. “Yesterday when we were taking off our jackets.”
Even though it was summer, some mornings were cool. Like yesterday when I’d had to wear a sweatshirt until after lunch.
“Did you tell someone then about what happened?” I asked.
Tamara shook her head.
“There isn’t a statute of limitations on bad behavior,” Tamara’s mom said. I couldn’t miss the way she tapped her foot since I was close to the ground.
I ignored her and focused on Tamara. It was obvious where she was modeling her bad behavior, so I had to be a good example here. “What happened exactly?”
She put her finger to her neck as she spoke. “I was taking off my jacket, and my hair got caught in my zipper. Claire helped, but it pulled.”
I stood up and patted Tamara on the head. “Sounds like you need to tell your jacket to stop being so mean. I hope you thanked Claire for helping.”
Tamara looked at the ground then gave a sly glance at her mother. “No.”
I didn’t say anything, just let Tamara take a minute to figure out what she needed to do. “Thanks, Claire!” she called across the playground then tugged on her mom’s hand. “I’m ready to go now.”