Chapter 3 The house was too quiet. There were no footsteps thudding upstairs as Katy raced through the hallway. No K-pop blaring from her bedroom. No frustrated groans about her hair. I fucking hated shared custody. Katy was at her mother's this week. We'd been doing this week-on, week-off thing for a decade. Wasn't it supposed to get easier? Years ago, when I'd been in school earning my degree, these were the weeks I'd bury my nose in books and block out her absence with my studies. During peak landscaping season, I'd lose myself in mountains of work, avoiding the house from six in the morning until eight at night. And the hours I was home, I'd be swamped with remodeling projects. Except I'd been too productive. Too efficient. The house was done, and I doubted the work I had on my desk would take until four this afternoon. Did I need a new hobby? I'd already worked out this morning in the small home gym I'd built for myself in the basement. Maybe I should get Katy that puppy. At least I'd have another living being in the house. Or maybe tonight, I'd stop slacking and get started on organizing the garage. I cast a longing glance up the staircase as I headed for the front door, then I dug out my phone to send Katy a text. love you dandelion With my coat on, I paused in the entryway, waiting for her reply. She'd become the grammar police this year, so I purposefully ignored commas and capitalization just to get her reaction. Was that Della Adler's influence? Probably. In the past week, Della had popped into my mind more times than I wanted to admit. I kept picturing her chocolate hair. Those caramel eyes. The sweet mouth. A jolt of lust shot straight to my groin, making my cock twitch. Fuck. That had happened more times than I wanted to admit too. When was the last time I'd had this reaction to a woman? Years. Not since three winters ago, when I'd had a no-strings fling with a former client. Both of us were divorced and hadn't wanted any type of commitment beyond sex. At least, that was what we'd agreed upon. But that hadn't stopped her from coming over four months later and asking for more. I didn't have more. My dating history was, well...nonexistent. Not once in my life had I taken a woman to dinner and a movie. Not even in high school. Not even Rosalie. I'd just never met a woman I'd wanted to date. To chase. And these days, limiting complication was the goal. The last thing I needed was another ex-wife. The occasional one-night stand and an orgasm or two was all I had to offer. Even then, the women hadn't been addictive. The moment I'd crawled out of bed, it was over. So what the hell was it about Della? I'd spoken to her for a whole ten minutes. Yet something about her was...different. Lasting. Maybe because Katy talked about her all the time. Because it felt like I'd known her before we'd ever met. For months, Della had infused our conversations. When I asked Katy about school, Miss Adler was usually part of her reply. She was an undercurrent in our text threads and the grammar lashings doled out by a twelve-year-old. Whatever my interest was with Della, it would pass, right? Hell, I doubted I'd ever see the woman again. So I shook her out of my head, made a quick adjustment to my dick, then checked my phone again-still no reply from Katy. "Huh." Not normal. Katy was always quick to reply in the mornings. But maybe she'd gotten distracted, so I tucked my phone away and headed outside. I was the first to arrive at the office, but Korbyn walked in thirty minutes later, knocking on my office door with a yellow sticky note between his fingers. "Morning, Jeff." "Morning." I saluted him with my steaming coffee mug. "What's up?" He waved the note. "Hans called. Wants you to call him back." "All right. Thanks." I picked up my desk phone and punched in Hans's number. "Jeff?" He answered on the first ring. "Hey." "I'm just rolling in. Be there in a sec." " 'Kay." I hung up, then snagged my phone, checking for a text from Katy. Still nothing. We texted all the time. When she was with Rosalie, she had to ride the bus to and from school, and in that forty-minute commute, she'd blow up my phone with fifty texts because while hers were all grammatically correct, she never included two sentences in the same message. You okay? I stared at the screen, waiting for those three dots to appear in reply to my message, but it stayed blank. So I turned on the ringer so it would chime whenever she replied before setting it aside, just as Hans appeared in my office's doorway. He was dressed in a ratty flannel shirt this morning, the sleeves rolled up his forearms and the hem untucked. One knee of his jeans was damp, like he'd dropped it in the snow outside. His white hair was cut short, but his matching mustache was a creature of its own, bushy and thick. "Good morning." I gave him the same coffee-mug salute I'd given Korbyn. "Hi." He shuffled inside and closed the door. Well, shit. Hans never closed the door, even when he was having a private discussion. "Am I going to like this meeting?" I asked. "Yes?" "Why did that sound like a question?" Hans chuckled and took a seat, kicking up an ankle over his knee. "I'll cut to it. I'm retiring." The tension ebbed from my shoulders. His retirement was nothing to worry about because the man wouldn't retire. This was the third time in five years he'd come in here to announce his retirement. "Sure." "I'm serious this time." He pointed at my face. "After this season, I'm retired." "Okay." I didn't buy it for a damn minute. My hunch? The season would come and go, and instead of setting a retirement date, he'd spend the winter talking about employees and budgets and special projects. "You don't believe me," he said. "Nope." I took a sip of coffee. "Then maybe this will convince you. I'd like to sell you Alcott." My hand froze midair, mug included. That was new. During the previous discussions, he hadn't mentioned a long-term plan for the company. Part of why I'd never believed he'd actually retire. "Believe me now?" He smirked, the ends of his mustache lifting. "Back up." I set my mug aside before I dropped it, then leaned my elbows on the desk. "You want to sell me Alcott?" "Yep." In my wildest dreams, I wouldn't have expected this. Sure, I enjoyed working for Hans. I loved this job. But owning the business? That wasn't something I'd even let myself hope for. "I can't afford it." The words burned as they came off my tongue, but it was the truth. "Thank you. I'm honored that you'd think of me. I just...I don't have that kind of money." Alcott Landscaping was worth millions. I had a mortgage and a lackluster savings account. "You don't need that kind of money," Hans said. "I'm not searching for a lump payment. I'm looking for retirement income." Huh? My brain was still stuck on the fact that he'd even thought of me as his successor. "I'm not following." "We'll draw up a contract. Basically, treat this like you're taking out a loan but instead of from a bank, from me. You run Alcott. It's your business. And every year, you pay me a certain amount." "That sounds..." Too good to be true. Hans must have read my mind because he gave me a gentle smile. "I don't have kids. No one to pass this down to. The idea of selling it to a stranger, having to watch someone else run this place, makes my skin crawl. This morning, I said as much to Mary. She smacked me across the head with the newspaper and told me, 'Then don't sell it to a stranger, dummy.'" I'd always loved Hans's wife. Still, it seemed too out of the blue. Was something wrong? Was there a health concern I didn't know about? "Where is all this coming from?" He shrugged. "I'm ready. Finally. Mary and I want to travel. It will be an adjustment, but usually I'm excited this time of year. Anxious for the season to get started. This year? I'm dreading it." "We can handle everything. If you want to travel, travel. You don't have to sell Alcott to do that." "No, I know myself well enough that if I don't cut myself off, I won't walk away. It's time." There was a weary note in his voice. He sounded tired. Serious. "Why me?" "That's a dumb question. And the wrong question." He scoffed. "Why not you?" Why not me? "Good?" Hans asked, not really wanting an answer. He smacked his palms on his knees and stood, moving for the door. "I'll have my lawyer draw something up. Are there any donuts in the break room today?" Another question I didn't get the chance to answer before he opened the door and disappeared down the hallway, like he hadn't just changed my whole goddamn life. Own Alcott? Fuck yeah, I wanted to own Alcott. But could I do it? There was a big difference between working for a business and running it. Was I up for it? Why not me? "Holy shit." I swept up my phone, wishing I could talk to Katy. She was only twelve, but that girl was my best friend. When something good happened, she was the first to get the news. Except when I called her number, expecting to hear her voice combatting the noisy chaos from the bus, it went unanswered. "What the hell?" Where was my daughter? Katy never forgot her phone. Never. And not just because she was a responsible kid. From the time she was eight, I'd made sure she not only had a phone but also a watch. She might live with her mother part-time, but I wanted full-time access to my child. Day or night. That phone, her watch, were essential to my peace of mind. Fear raced through my veins as I typed out another text. call or text Katy I'm starting to worry I waited, willing the phone to ring, but it stayed quiet. She was fine. Even as my heart raced, my palms getting clammy, in my head I knew she'd probably just left her phone at home. She hadn't forgotten it before, but for a kid, it was bound to happen. Maybe the watch hadn't charged last night. And if something bad had happened, Rosalie would have called me. Confidence in my ex was severely lacking, but when it came to emergencies, she didn't have the stomach to gut them out. She'd call. So I did my best to work for a few hours, but worrying was as constant a distraction as my silent phone. It was nearly lunchtime when it rang. I flew for it, twisting so fast in my chair that I knocked over my coffee cup-thankfully empty. The school's name lit up the screen. "Hello?" I answered, already out of my chair. Fuck. I knew it. Something was wrong. I should have acted sooner. Should have checked in with Rosalie. Should have called the school. "Hi, Mr. Dawson." "Miss Adler." Later, I'd analyze why I recognized her melodic voice. "Is Katy okay?" "She's, um...she's having a bad day. Any chance you could get away from work for a quick visit?" "On my way." I strode from the office, not slowing to tell Korbyn where I was going. He could assume I was on my way to lunch. Then I raced across town, breaking every speed limit posted until I was at the school and jogging down its hallways. Similar to my visit last week, Della's classroom was empty save for Katy in her desk, arms folded on the surface. Instead of being in her own chair, Della was crouched beside my daughter, her hand trailing up and down Katy's spine. "Hey, Dandelion." Katy's head flew up, her face streaked with tears. My heart cracked. Did all dads hurt when they saw their kids cry? "What happened?" I picked her up from the desk, hoisting her up from beneath her arms, and hauled her into my chest. There'd come a day when I couldn't pick her up. Thank fuck, it wasn't today. Katy's arms wrapped around my neck, holding tight, as she pressed her face into the crook of my neck. Outside, kids were playing on the playground. Their shouts and laughs carried through the tall windows. I just held my daughter closer. "Are you hurt?" Katy shook her head. A sliver of panic faded. "Are you in trouble?" Please, don't be more cussing. This time it was Della who shook her head, giving me a kind smile as she stood. "She started crying in class today. I pulled her aside and gave her some space, but she's had a hard time stopping." Damn. I bent, setting Katy on her feet. Then I pulled her arms away because she wouldn't let go before dropping to a knee so we could talk face-to-face. "Lay it on me, shortie." That earned me a slight smile. Katy hated any endearment or nickname besides Dandelion. She sucked in a shaky breath, then blew it out as her shoulders slumped. "Mom took my phone and my watch so I couldn't even call you today and she did it because she knows I was going to text you on the bus and she's mad at me because she promised she'd take me to this restaurant and then she changed her mind and I got upset and she said I was acting like a brat even though she was the one who broke her promise." "Wow." I pulled in my lips to hide a smile. That was a load to unpack. Mostly, I was just really glad she was okay. Over Katy's shoulder, Della ducked her chin, fighting a laugh. "That's a lot," I said. Katy nodded, wiping beneath her eyes. "Mom's the brat." "Hey, now. Don't say that." I'd used plenty worse when it came to Rosalie, but I didn't want Katy to walk that road. "It's true." The scowl on her face was adorable. I'd take that over the tears anytime. "We'll get this all sorted out, okay?" "Okay." Katy sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. Rosalie had no right to take that phone from Katy, not without checking with me first. I'd given Katy that phone and watch. I floated the bill. She should have asked me first. A conversation I'd have with my ex soon. The restaurant thing we'd tackle next week. I had a hunch the place she wanted to go was called Jar something. She'd mentioned it last weekend on the drive to Rosalie's place-too quickly for me to recall the name and too late for me to actually take Katy there for dinner. She'd also mentioned something about a girl in seventh grade and her mom who owned it or something. Whatever. I'd get the scoop tonight. After Rosalie returned Katy's phone. "Better?" I asked. "Think you can make it through the rest of the day?" She nodded. "Yeah." "That's my girl." I tucked a lock of her hair behind an ear. "I've missed you this week." "Missed you too." Della cleared her throat. "Katy, if you hurry, I bet you can still eat a quick lunch and have five minutes on the playground." "Okay." She flashed her teacher a smile, then flew into my arms, hugging my neck so tight I couldn't breathe. Then she was gone, hair streaming behind her as she ran out of the classroom. I sighed, letting my heart finally sink back into my chest. Della wasn't in overalls today. Instead, she was in a black dress with puffy sleeves. The boots she wore only came to the ankle, giving me the perfect view of toned legs encased in green and black checkered tights. Of course she had great legs. Tonight I'd probably imagine them wrapped around my waist. Not exactly thoughts I needed to be having about my daughter's teacher. I shoved to my feet, giving her a nod. "Appreciate the call, Miss Adler." "Della," she corrected, just like she had last week. Somehow, calling her Della felt too intimate. It erased that imaginary boundary between us. But that didn't stop it from rolling off my tongue. "Della." Pretty name for a pretty woman. She cocked her head, studying me. Her eyebrows came together with the slightest crease. "What?" "Nothing." She waved it off and smiled. "I adore Katy. She's so sweet and a wonderful student." "She adores you too. And whatever you're teaching her is working. She loves to pick apart my texts and correct me when I don't write them properly." Della stood a little taller. "Really? I sort of love that." "So do I." "You call her Dandelion? That's a unique nickname. Where did it come from?" "When she was little, she used to follow me around the yard whenever I mowed. She'd pick every dandelion flower she could find and bring me these bouquets. She said it was her favorite flower, so I started calling her Dandelion." "It fits." "I think so." I grinned, taking in the sparkle in her eyes. That color was mesmerizing. Not just caramel like I'd thought last week, but there were a few flecks of shining copper too. I opened my mouth, about to tell her she had beautiful eyes, but caught myself. "I, uh...I'll let you get back to work." "Yeah, I um..." The color rose in her cheeks as she glanced to her desk. "Me too. Bye, Mr. Dawson." "Jeff." It was my turn for corrections. She dipped her chin. "Jeff." Even the way she said my name sounded pretty. But pretty wasn't the right word. She was captivating. Breathtaking. Stunning. Surprising. Tempting. And Katy's teacher. It was time for me to put some distance between us before I said something stupid and made it awkward. With a wave, I turned and strode for the door, about to escape into the hallway when I nearly collided with another man. I shifted out of the way in time to avoid a crash in the threshold. "Sorry." "No problem." The guy was about my height and size. He looked me up and down, then strode into Della's classroom. I glanced over my shoulder, just in time to see her eyes dart up from my ass. Damn. Was she interested? Because that would be fucking awesome. For Della Adler, I'd learn how to date. Unless there were other rules at play? Could teachers and parents get together? "Hey." The man, another teacher probably, walked straight to Della, stopping close. Too close. He put his hands on her shoulders, a move not normal for coworkers. Ah. Of course she'd have a man in her life. The twinge of envy was hard enough to send me out the door and down the hall. After passing a row of lockers, I glanced back, hoping to see him leave her room, but the hallway stayed empty. Why was I even jealous? She was a beauty, sure. But I didn't date for a reason. That reason was on the playground at the moment. It was better this way. Maybe knowing Della was taken would stop me from thinking about her legs tonight. Probably not, but maybe. I picked up my pace, wasting no time on my way back to work. Then I spent the rest of my day answering questions and reviewing design plans, anything to keep my head from wandering. Hans had offered me the chance of a lifetime this morning. Was I twisted up about Alcott? No. I was stuck on Della. On the way I'd caught her checking out my ass even though she was tangled up with someone else. Maybe that should have made me mad, but damn it, I couldn't shake the jealousy. By the time I left the office, the last place I wanted to go was home. It was too quiet. So I did a quick internet search and found that restaurant Katy had told me about. The Maysen Jar. That seemed like a great place to kill an hour. The café was an old building that someone had fixed up, small enough to be cozy but big enough you weren't sitting on top of other patrons. The minute I stepped inside, the smell of fresh bread and apple pie hit my nose. My stomach rumbled. It was comfortable. Welcoming. Like I was stepping into a friend's house, not a restaurant. All but two of the tables were full. My boots thudded on the wood floor as I made my way toward the counter at the back lined with stools. Normally, a single stool would suit me just fine. But tonight, sitting alone felt too miserable. Katy's puppy was starting to sound more and more appealing, and I did not need a damn dog. Instead, I'd sit at a table. Pretend I was waiting on someone else. So I ordered-mac 'n' cheese and a salad, both served in jars-and took my food to one of the free spaces, settling in with my phone. I'd been putting off the call to Rosalie all afternoon, mostly because talking to her gave me a headache. But I pulled up her number anyway, bracing for whatever attitude would greet me on the other end of the line. Before I could hit send, a throat cleared at the base of my table. And there she was, the woman who'd invaded my thoughts. Every time I saw her she just kept getting more beautiful. How was that possible? "Hi, Jeff." Still liked how she said my name. Still liked those legs in her tights. Still liked the pretty colors in her eyes. Not a chance I'd be able to stop thinking about my daughter's teacher tonight. Damn. "Hey, Della." Freelance photographer Violet Beck is forced into an engagement with CEO Roy Payne. He is everything her wild heart rebels against: proper, predictable, and painfully kind. But love has a way of devel...