shake, and it was all I could do not to hug him. Then he volunteered, “I have to go to school now. My auntie can’t watch me anymore.”
That must be the gray-haired lady who said it was her last day.
“I’m sorry to hear that” seemed like the safest response.
“But I get to play with other kids more.” That sounded like he was quoting his dad’s assessment of the bright side in this change to their routine.
“Very true. Once you’ve seen everything, I’ll ask Mrs. Trent if you can play in her class for a little while.”
Sam tipped his head back this time, asking permission with big brown eyes.
Ty nodded. “Sounds great.”
While I gave the company pitch, I was conscious of unspoken things between us, unfinished business, and it didn’t help having Ty right at my shoulder as we peered in the classroom windows while I talked about each teacher. Sam went to the door and stared through the glass. He didn’t seem alarmed over the idea of switching from babysitter to day care, and it was probably time. Pre-K would help him get ready for kindergarten next year.
Eventually, we came to the end of the tour and I offered my hand to Sam. He took it without hesitation, and I glanced at his dad, who seemed more nervous about the whole thing. Taking his silence for assent, I tapped on Mrs. Trent’s door. We had two pre-K teachers, but Mrs. T had spaces available.
“Sam is a prospective student. Would it be all right if he participated for a bit?”
“Absolutely. We’re just about to have circle time. Sam, you can have this carpet square.” She gave him blue shag to sit on, and I beckoned to Ty.
“It’s best to leave while he’s busy. We won’t be gone long.” I took him to the break room, which was near the kitchen. It had been only fifteen minutes, so Mrs. Keller wouldn’t be done with her supply meeting yet. “Would you like coffee or tea?”
“Coffee would be great.” As ever, he looked tired, though not rumpled. The weariness seemed to be a perpetual state with him.
“What questions do you have?” As part of the tour, I’d gone over hours, safety record and curriculum, but I hadn’t covered the fees. I hated talking money with the parents. Some of them made me mad, acting like their kids weren’t worth the cost of decent care.
While he thought about it, I poured the coffee into a white mug and offered him cream and sugar. “No thanks, black is fine.” His golden-brown eyes held mine for a few seconds. “I guess the only question I have at this point is...where’ve you been all week?”
I could’ve made up an excuse. I could’ve lied.
“Avoiding you,” I said honestly.
“Why?”
“I may not be the best neighbor, but I haven’t done anything to deserve that snub, and I’m not interested in friends who only acknowledge me part of the time.”
“Friends.” He repeated the word in an odd tone, like it was a word from a foreign language that he’d heard once but couldn’t place.
“What did you think we were?”
A confused laugh huffed out of him. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
I studied his face and he truly seemed apologetic. His hot-and-cold game was puzzling, but I didn’t think he meant to be difficult. “Just...explain and we’re cool.”
“It was a knee-jerk reaction. Sam hadn’t met you, and in the car, he was saying he had to go to the bathroom for ten minutes. I didn’t want him to pee at your feet as a first impression.”
From the tension in his shoulders, it was more complicated than that, but I didn’t demand more. I’d worked at the day care long enough to know that public urination was the least of the problems that could crop up, dealing with a kid Sam’s age. So he was most likely telling the truth about that, if not about why he’d acted like we didn’t know each other at all.
“He’s cute,” I said, giving him a get out of jail free card.
“I think so.” His smile became 50 percent more natural. He downed half his coffee in a single gulp, giving the sense it was his life support, necessary for survival.
“You must’ve been young when you had him.” Okay, so now I was totally digging. It was possible that Sam was his little brother, but I didn’t think so.
“Twenty when he was born.”
Yikes. Younger than me. I couldn’t imagine being a parent at my age. It was such a vast relief to leave Rainbow Academy once people reclaimed their offspring. When I went home, there was nobody relying on me for safety, comfort, wisdom, food or shelter. But for the past four years, Ty had been all of those things to Sam. Which meant he was twenty-four or so.
So out of your league. With a mental sigh, I added him to the list of delicious guys who were out of my reach, mostly celebrities. Damn. No prospective parent had ever tempted me during a tour. Usually, the fact that the guy had a kid was enough to put me off, but something about Ty... My gaze dropped to his artistic hands curled around his coffee mug. For a few seconds, I watched his fingertips play around the rim. My lips tingled.
Stop that.
“You’ve done a great job with Sam,” I managed to say.
“Thanks.”
“Will your partner want a tour before you decide if Rainbow Academy’s the right fit?” Somehow the question came out casual and professional when I was dying to know about Sam’s mom, mostly as pertained to Ty’s relationship status.
“No, I’m making the decision on my own.”
Single dad, check. I bet that’s a story. I wondered if Sam’s mom was out of the picture entirely, and if so, why? Did she leave or...die? Sad, either way. I quelled my curiosity.
“Will our hours work for you? We’re only open until six.”
“Not a problem. My parents look after him during my night classes.”
He works during the day, takes classes in the evenings. When exactly does he sleep? Well, that explained the constant exhaustion.
Ty must’ve seen something in my face that he took for disapproval because he snapped, “I always spend Sundays with Sam. Always.”
I raised a brow. “I heard you reading Goodnight Moon. And I saw the way that kid looks at you. I have no doubt you’re an amazing dad.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw and he closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if I’d stroked him in an unspeakably intimate place. My fingers curled against the urge to touch him, brush the bright hair away from his brow or test the gold bristles on his jaw. A rush of longing hammered at my composure, a visceral attraction unlike any I’d ever known. He rubbed his palm over his mouth, and I could’ve sworn he whispered something like, Make it stop, I don’t have time for this right now, but it was more of a breath or a sigh, and it could’ve been my imagination.
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