Page 9 of Teasing

“Oh...” She cracks the lid on the water bottle as Rosie comes back outside with Butters trailing lazily behind.“Well, I teach ballet at a studio in Kroydon Hills.”

Of course she teaches at Hart & Soul.

It’s the only damn studio in Kroydon Hills.

And my own damn godmother owns it.

“Ballet?” Rosie immediately spins around like a baby ballerina wannabe. “I’m going to take ballet classes this year.”

Rosie’s been asking to take classes for the past two months, but right now, I don’t even have a damn nanny lined up for when preseason starts. I can’t even think about anything further down the line than that.

“Maybe I’ll see you there.” Emmie has no problem giving Rosie her full attention, and Rosie eats it up like she’s starving for it. Which she’s not. This kid lives like a rock star. She’s the center of so many lives.

“That’s a big house for a ballet teacher.”Fuck... I know it’s a shitty thing to say, but something about her rubs me wrong. Or maybe it’s right. Hell if I know.

“Dude,”Ryker groans, and I know if he’s calling me out, it was a really shitty thing to say.

“That’s okay,”she tells him before turning her attention on me.“It was my family’s house.” She doesn’t add anything else,and I decide not to push it. Not yet. Even if I want to know what that means.

I want to know everything about her.

It’s my job as Rosie’s father to know about the people who are going to be in her orbit.

At least that’s what I’m going with.

“This is my family’s house,” Rosie tells her so damn innocently that I feel like a shit, until Rosie takes Emmie’s hand again like she’s her new favorite toy. “Want to see my room?”

Emmie looks at me for approval, which I appreciate and wonder if she realizes she’s creating a monster by agreeing to do everything my daughter asks. She’s good at getting what she wants. “I’d love to see your room.”

“After dinner, Rosie.” I press my palm to her back. “Grab the napkins and plates to help me set the table, okay?”

“Sure, Daddy.” She scampers off to grab the napkins and paper plates. We’re not big on dishes.Sue me.

“Be careful with her. You keep agreeing to do what she wants, and you’ll have a little terror on your hands,” I warn, and the beautiful brunette laughs.

Pretty golden-green eyes look around at me and the guys. “Sure. I’m the one she’s got wrapped around her little finger.”

Her soft laugh is musical and grates on every fucking nerve I have.

Because I don’t want this woman to be beautiful.

Or kind. Or sweet.

Because I don’t want this woman.

EMMIE

I’d rather be one person’s shot of Tito’s than everyone’s cup of tea.

—Emmie’s Secret Thoughts

“Wanna catch lightning bugs, Emmie?” Rosie looks up at me with wide hopeful eyes from where she sits on the outdoor sofa. We roasted marshmallows around the firepit earlier, and this kid is still trying to get the sticky fluff from her fingers.

I always thought marshmallows were dairy, which I learned tonight is one of Rosie’s many allergies, but it turns out, marshmallows are on the okay list. No sooner did I start learning about this tiny tot’s special food needs than my mind went in a million directions, trying to come up with some kind of delicious dessert I could bring next time that would be safe for her to eat.

Not that there’s going to be a next time. But just in case.

Before I can answer her, Maverick shakes his head from his chair across from us. “It’s past your bedtime,piccola rosa.”

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