Who's the Daddy (Crescent Cove 3)

That wasn’t how it worked. I didn’t think so anyway.

“Is this how I get treated after bringing you a bed and putting it together for you?”

“Well, we christened it too. Don’t forget that.”

“Oh, I won’t,” he said over his shoulder.

I blushed. “It really was too generous of you. I’ll pay you back.”

He shook his head. “You needed it.”

I wasn’t used to anyone doing anything for me. Of course my folks had done what they could to help out when I’d impulsively moved to Crescent Cove, but they were on a fixed income.

And I was my own woman, dammit.

“I could have gotten one.” On credit.

“Now you don’t need to. Just talk up Beck to whoever sees it and likes it.” He frowned as he opened the front door to my apartment. “Not that I mean you should immediately show someone the bed.”

I was single and could show my bed to whomever I liked. But the idea of anyone else doing with me what we’d just done was really hard to picture. And I wasn’t sure I’d get the image of Dare kneeling over me with that impressive bit of hardware out of my head anytime soon.

“You’re blushing again.”

“Curse of my Scottish blood.”

“Not Irish?”

I shook my head. “Well, maybe. Who knows? The Scottish and the Irish often have very mixed bloodlines.”

“Is that right?”

I nibbled on my lower lip. “Sorry. Lots of useless trivia in my brain.”

“It’s cute.”

“Cute?” I didn’t want to be cute. Five minutes ago, I was a ball of exploding orgasms.

He leaned down and nipped my lower lip. “See ya around, Thank You Girl.” Then he was gone.

I closed the door and thunked my forehead against the wood. From hot to girl next door in less than ten minutes. That had to be a land speed record.

Not that I had time to think about that. I had a first grade game plan to come up with.

Even if part of me wanted to chase after Dare and prove him wrong.

Seven

September seemed to go by in a blink. It took me a few weeks to get the hang of building a new curriculum. Kindergarten was my favorite grade, but I’d done a lot of my undergrad work in middle school. Finding the right balance for children who were going to school all day for the first time was…exhausting.

Actually, everything seemed exhausting.

“Miss Kelsey?”

I looked up from my lesson planner screen that I’d been zoning out on. “Yes, Weston.”

The little boy wrinkled his nose, twisting his fingers into the hem of his polo shirt. “I hafta go to the bathroom.”

I resisted the urge to wince. The nervous twitch could’ve been caused by a number of things. Until the screech that came from the back of the room. I examined his fingers closer and saw the purple color staining the material.