Boss On A Leash: A Single Dad Billionaire Romance, Kara Hart [free ebook reader for iphone .TXT] 📗

brutal timed math test, I give the kids a little break. They’re pretty burnt out from a month of so many changes, so, despite my deep hatred for these Hallmark holidays, I’m offering a truce to St. Valentine.

That’s right. I’m opening my mailbox for candy hearts, sweet suckers, and vows of adoration. But this comes with a warning. If he does me wrong, there won’t be anything he can do.

I’ll be gone.

“Okay, my little sweeties,” I announce. “Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. Do you know what that means?”

Sammy darts up her hand. “Cooties!”

Damn straight, girl.

I bend forward, hands fastened to the patchwork skirt Amanda lent me. “No, silly. Cooties are not allowed. You hear that, boys?”

She giggles, fingers pressed to her face.

Someone else raises their hand, a young boy in the front row. “Candy,” he says.

“Yes, candy,” I say. “And?”

A girl near the back raises her hand. “A cute little mailbox with a bird on the top, with hearts that go all around the sky!”

I’ve got them riffing now. “Yes, Susie. Someone else take a shot.”

“Cupid with his bow,” someone shouts. “Naked!”

The entire class bursts out in uncontrollable laughter. A few of the boys exaggerate and fall out of their chairs.

“Okay, guys,” I say. “Simmer down. Back in your seats. Those are all good answers.”

Xander timidly raises his hand.

“Yes, Xander,” I say. “Do you want to share what Valentine’s Day is to you?”

Gentle, he lowers his arm. “A nice letter for a nice girl.”

Somehow, I think I know who that nice girl is.

Sammy twists in her seat, and eventually she raises her hand. “Ms. Greenwald. What if you don’t want any letters?”

Crap.

“We want everyone to be able to give and receive a letter,” I say. “So that other children don’t feel left out.”

Sammy stares at her desk. “Well, I don’t want any letters. I don’t want to go to Valentine’s Day.”

It’s like I’m staring into a mirror, except my reflection is a seven year old girl. I take a deep breath. “If you don’t want to participate, then you don’t have to. But feel free to write your own message to your classmates if you want to. You can just make a letterbox for yourself.”

Sammy looks in her peripheral before nodding. “Okay.”

After class, Sammy waits for me at the door. I pack my things and do a double-check to see if I left anything behind. The first thing I see is Sammy’s letterbox. It’s underneath her desk, and the corner is bent as if someone stepped on it.

I head toward her. “Ready to go?”

She nods, eyes facing the hallway.

“You want to grab your letterbox before you go?” I ask.

She stares at the ground, shaking her head.

I sigh, wondering what I should do. On one hand, this is what kids go through. On the other, maybe it’s something deeper. Is this because I kissed her dad?

“Sammy, I thought we were friends. What’s wrong?” I ask.

Without wanting to open up, she just shuts down. It’s like a light goes off. The door is shut, and I’ve been denied access.

She whips her hair over her shoulder. “We are friends. Can you take me home now?”

I come to her side. “Okay. Let’s go.”

The second car ride to Marc’s house is one met with a very uncomfortable silence. I keep grasping for topics to bring us closer, but she doesn’t seem at all interested in engaging. Rounding the corner into their neighborhood, I head toward the source of my newly felt butterflies. Still, I worry about losing a connection with his daughter.

Everything just feels a little off.

Pulling in their driveway, the garage door rolls open. Marc is holding Ragamuffin, stroking the pet’s long ears. A tight shirt hugs his chiseled torso, and his black slacks are tight in all the right areas. I try to focus my eyes on something else, but my pupils dart to him like a magnet.

This is the perfect picture. The single dad so many women find themselves daydreaming about. I have him right in front of me, but I’ve spent so much time pushing him away.

He gives a friendly wave and a wink, and I suddenly hear my voice again. Only if you’re waiting for me. Ugh.

I wish I had never said that. It’s so obvious that I want him now. I wish we could have a do-over. There’s no bet anymore. Nothing to get in the way. Everything is out in the open, so what’s stopping either of us from pouncing on top of each other?

I park the car and open Sammy’s door, biting my tongue as she runs into the house without saying a word to Marc. He watches her and laughs like he expects this kind of behavior.

“She’s not too thrilled about Valentine’s Day,” I say.

There’s like six feet between us. I think of running again. Running away from what I’m feeling. But I can’t run now.

He nods. “She’s like this every year,” he tells me. “You want to come inside, or...”

The sound of my heart resounds in my ears. “I don’t want to run again, if that’s what you mean.”

Marc’s award winning smile invites me to take the necessary steps toward him, but the hug I give him is awkward, and he seems a little tense.

“Do you need to talk to Sammy?” I ask. “I can wait outside.”

“Trust me. It’s not worth pressing right now,” he says.

Nodding along, I look at him with affection, but am still somewhat hesitant.

When I enter his house for a second time, an air of comfortability starts to sink in. I’ve been here before. It’s less foreign. But in the back of my mind is the fact that I still haven’t gotten to know him. All that quickly gets erased when my nose detects a delicious scent.

“Mm, what is that?” I ask.

“My peace offering.”

I follow him through the kitchen, and once again, my eyes are drawn to the bookshelf in the family room. Those books are some of my all time favorites. Sammy would probably love them. It doesn’t seem like I’m