Ellis nods. “I think you’re on the same page now.”
“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. We’re barely in the same book,” I say without thinking.
Fletcher snorts.
Ellis smiles. “I can’t claim to be an expert, but I’ve been teaching kids for a while now. Usually, when there’s a little clash between two students, it’s good to get the parents on board so we can understand the whole picture.”
“What are you suggesting?” Fletcher takes the question from my mouth.
“Let them play together outside of school. George would benefit from knowing Megan can’t do everything he can. At least not just yet. That way, he’ll understand her limits. And Megan will benefit from being around a child who can encourage her to play more.”
I know what he’s saying makes sense, but…this means having to see Fletcher.
“Do you mind if I speak to Megan’s mom about this?” I ask.
Ellis opens his mouth to answer but is rudely interrupted by Fletcher, who stands. “Can you give us a moment, Ellis?” He grabs my wrist and pulls me outside the room.
“What the fuck is your problem?” he asks in an attempted whisper.
“What do you mean?” It’s impossible to not look at him because he’s so close I can smell his cologne. Why does he smell so good when he looks like he’s gone a round in the paint section at the DIY store?
He lets out a breath and runs his hands through his long hair. The gesture shouldn’t do anything for me, but fuck, it does. Fucking good-looking bastard.
“Look, it’s clear the kids have some lessons to learn. Can you not put aside our differences and focus on them?”
Great, and now I feel like a dick.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see you again.” It’s the honest truth. Somehow he brings out the worst in me, but I can’t stop staring at his eyes and wondering what would have happened if I’d said yes to a date.
That’s in the past. I’m angry with myself for even having these thoughts, but he’s right. We need to focus on the kids.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you again either, Harrison. Or find out you’re married. But here we are.”
“What?”
“What, what?”
“I’m not married,” I say.
His smile changes in a heartbeat. “You’re not?”
I shake my head. “I was at a bachelor auction. You do know the definition of a bachelor.”
“You said your friend put you up to it.”
“Why are we talking about this?” I ask.
He takes a slow step back.
“It doesn’t matter. Can I have your number?” he asks.
He must see my confusion because he adds. “So we can arrange a playdate for the kids.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, of course.” I pull out my phone and unlock it, giving it to him. He puts his number in and then calls his own cell.
His finger brushes mine when he hands me the phone back, making the little hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention…and not in a bad way.
Why do I feel like trouble is around the corner?
