One Look: A grumpy, single dad small town romance(32)

“If it makes you feel any better,” Huck called out, “I’ll throw in one complimentary latte a day for all the work you did organizing the pantry. That spreadsheet is a lifesaver. Consider it a severance package.”

I scowled at him. “One latte”—I raised a finger to point in his direction—“plus a lemon blueberry scone when you make them.”

Huck nodded, satisfied that his karma was still intact as Wyatt wound me through the crowd and out into the midday sunshine.

As soon as we got outside, I turned on him. “What the hell, Wyatt?”

“Hey, Lark!” Penny called out as she walked on the top of the cement planter.

“Pickle, get down.” Wyatt held out a hand, and Penny hopped off the planter and sat cross-legged on the sidewalk.

I glared up at him. “You kiss me and then ignore me and then I’m—”

“Keep your voice down.” Wyatt encroached on my space, and the fight died from my lungs as he guided me away from the sidewalk to press up against the brick of the Sugar Bowl.

“Look. Kissing you was . . . it was . . .”

Don’t say a mistake. Please don’t say it was a mistake.

“It happened, all right?” He dropped his hands, defeated. “I know. I’m sorry, but I’m desperate. I’ve got the board of directors breathing down my neck, these kids are going to kill me, Penny is going feral . . . I think I need help.”

“Why me?”

His jaw clenched. “Fuck if I know. Why not you?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. I was pretty sure he was dodging my question, but a sick part of me wanted to peel back his layers and get a glimpse of the man hiding underneath.

I may be punctual, a damn good actress, and amazing at poker, but I really was a terrible server. Like so, so bad.

Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in defeat. “I don’t know why, but I think I trust you. And I do need you.”

His unfiltered desperation did me in. “Fine. I want two hundred and fifty dollars a week.”

“You don’t even know what the job is.”

“Five hundred.” I raised my chin, hoping he wouldn’t call my bluff.

“A thousand. All I need is for you to handle my calendar, hang out with Penny if I can’t find someone to be with her, and check in with the guys to make sure they’re not going off the rails. Can you do that?”

One thousand dollars a week? For that kind of cash I’d throw in laundry, cooking, and a blow job.

I swallowed hard at the thought of Wyatt and his big dick. I’d felt it plain as day when I was rubbing up against him while he devoured me in the kitchen. I felt hot all over, and it definitely wasn’t the June sun.

Damn it.

I thrust a hand in his direction. “Deal.”





14





WYATT





“The board feels you pulling away. They’re getting nervous, so they want to sweeten the deal. They’re willing to hire an assistant for you. Someone to manage your calendar, the responsibilities with the players, your child.” I could feel my neck on the chopping block as the athletic director spoke to me like I was an inconvenience. I ground my teeth to keep quiet.

The fact that Penny was last on that list of priorities showed me how much less the board cared about me as a human than as a successful coach. They were looking to solve the problem. Namely, me.

Whitman continued. “There are several administrative assistants that have open hours during the summer,” he rambled on. “We will assign one to you—”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“You need a personal assistant so you can handle your obligations.”

“I’m aware. I spoke with a few members of the board yesterday and got approval to hire my own assistant. It’s taken care of.”

Slightly miffed at my dismissal but pacified, Whitman ended the call, and I pressed my fingertips into my eye sockets. In a moment of utter panic, I’d hired Lark to be my assistant.

I’d nearly laughed in her face when she’d suggested such a low salary for herself. The board would cover a few hundred a week, and I was more than happy to throw in the rest if it meant this problem would go away.

She was the last person I needed complicating my life, but when I saw her sweet face next to Bootsy, staring out of the bakery window with a look of pure amusement, I just did it.

Plus, hiring Lark as my employee meant I definitely couldn’t fuck her. That was a good thing.

Isn’t it?

A gentle knock at the door had me straightening. It had to be Lark.

Game time.

“Morning!” Lark was fresh faced and sunny for so early in the day. Pickle was just getting up, and the boys would probably sleep a few more hours.

I took in the way her chestnut hair was bouncy and smooth. My fingers itched to run through it and feel its softness. I clenched my hands into fists and stepped aside, welcoming her into the house.

Lark followed me back to the kitchen. I reached up and grabbed a mug, filling it with coffee from the fresh pot I’d brewed. I lifted it. “Cream and sugar?”

Lark looked surprised that I’d made her coffee and blinked. “Oh, um . . . both, please. Thanks.”

I nodded and set the cup on the table between us. I plopped down the sugar bowl and box of creamer and pushed it toward her.