He rubs a hand over his face, hiding a self-deprecating smile.
A professor who’s closer to thirty than twenty, Daniel’s mature in a way no cocky college boy could compete with.
He’s also too tight-laced for his own good.
I’m go-with-the-flow, he’s by-the-book.
I’m free spirited, he’s responsible.
I’m independent, he has a cute kid who’s his whole world since his wife died.
It would never work.
Even if one night, I thought it might.
He bends and retrieves my glasses, and the dance moms watch him without shame. I arch a brow in their direction and they turn back to their conversations.
Daniel holds up the crooked frames. “Sorry about these. I’ll replace them.”
“Don’t sweat it.” I slide them up my nose. “They’re not prescription. I wanted to look smart.” I gesture to the rest of my ensemble and he takes his time soaking it in.
“You’re smart already.”
He straightens the glasses on my face, his fingers brushing my cheek so gently I shouldn’t notice.
I do notice.
Apparently, it’s been too long since I had a physical connection with another person, because the jolt of anticipation has my breath catching.
For a second, I’m no better than the lusty dance moms, except they’re across the room and I’m inches away from the hottest guy in Elmwood.
He retrieves the box, turning it right-side up and holding it out.
I peek under the lid. The cupcakes are smooshed, the ones with Liv and Jules’ names a clownish smear of icing.
Motherfucker.
“Can I at least give you a ride?”
Daniel’s smooth voice brings me back.
“No thanks. I’m flying solo tonight.” And a lot of nights, it looks like.
“Sure. It was good to see you.”
Buried memories come back in an instant.
His lips at my ear.
His dark eyes trained on me.
The pull between us, the feel of the club music…
The moms are still staring. Evidently Daniel’s status as a widower also makes him top of the most eligible bachelor list.
“Get a little closer,” I suggest on my way past. “Maybe you can smell him.”
But I can’t really blame them.
He smells fucking incredible.
2
DANIEL
“I want two,” my kid insists from where he’s riding in the shopping cart.
“Last time you couldn’t finish one.”
“But the first one will make room for the second one.”
“How about pasta instead?”
Andy makes a face. “That’s nothing like a Big Mac.”
We had Big Macs last weekend, and I’m not feeding my kid fast food twice a week if I can help it.
“I can get the frozen kind of pasta that goes in the oven. Final offer.”
We’re shopping on a Monday because I was up late preparing for the first week of class, and missed getting organized at home. We barely made it to the dance studio this afternoon.
“You’re crushing this single dad thing.” Kat’s voice comes back to me.
Fuck, I wish she was right.
Running into her was a surprise. Despite the actual collision, I can’t say it was unpleasant.
My best friend and her roommate have been dating for the past year. What makes it salacious is that he’s ten years older and, until recently, was her professor.
I’ve met Liv’s friends more than once but it’s Kat I remember most.
The night at the club was months ago, but the way she looked, the way she danced, even the faint hint of sweat at her throat, are all fresh in my mind.
Perhaps because she seems to enjoy pushing my buttons.
When I accepted the job at Russell and moved back to Elmwood two years ago, it was supposed to be a fresh start after everything that happened.
In some ways, it has been.
My faculty job is rewarding, and I reconnected with some old friends.
But problems are still problems. I’m alone and raising a kid, and I can’t kick the feeling life wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Life doesn’t always go to plan. But being deliberate about the things I can control keeps my world from careening off the rails when it doesn’t.
I’m heading for the frozen entrée section when I see the woman standing in an open freezer door by the ice cream.
Kat’s white shirt is unbuttoned, the white tank top underneath hugging her breasts and rides up her stomach as she stands on tiptoe to reach the top shelf with one hand. A single cupcake is clutched in the other.
“…Damn Roommateiversary. And moving out. And…”
“You need a hand?” I ask. She genuinely looks as if she’s a heartbeat away from tumbling into the freezer headfirst.
Kat turns to take me in.
In heels, she’s a couple of inches shorter than me. Her heart-shaped face is fresh, her full mouth stained the color of raspberries at the end of summer. She’s always reminded me of a woodland fairy from one of Andy’s books: harmless at first glance, but full of mischievous intent.
“Can you believe the Rocky Road is on the top shelf?”
“They should put the best flavors where you can reach them.”
“That’s what I say.” She smiles and blinks bright eyes fringed in dark lashes.
“You have icing on your hand.”
She inspects her thumb, then sucks the pink frosting off.
It takes a moment for my brain to resume functioning. “This is my son, Andy.”
“Nice to meet you, Andy. I’m Kat.”
Her dark pants hug her legs, riding low enough there’s a gap between their waistband and her tank.
“You like Rocky Road too?” my kid asks.
“Yup. It’s been so warm I feel like I’m having hot flashes.” She fans herself.
My gaze drags down her body.
It is warm.
“Dad, can we have ice cream for dinner?”
I rub a hand over my neck. “No. Andy, we’re having pasta.”
“The trick is to have the pasta first.” Kat turns back to the freezer and grabs a family-sized heat-up entrée. “Pasta makes ice cream taste better.”
“It does?” Andy asks.
“Guaranteed.”
She sets both boxes in my cart without asking, and I try not to notice the way her breasts press against the edge.
“What about you? You’re getting dessert to go with your…dessert?” I ask, thinking of the icing.
“Mhmm. Going to eat it solo. It’s a new tradition.”
“Sounds more like a pity party.” I say it without thinking, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of emotion behind her eyes.
“My roommate is moving out.”
“Liv? I thought she and Sawyer were already moved in.” She waves to me from across the street most mornings.
“My other roommate,” Kat says with a flourish of her hand. “The only one I had left.”
She turns toward the end of the aisle. In profile, she looks sad and a little lost.
It’s been a while since I was in school and had roommates, but I do remember how it feels to lose someone you thought would always be there.