Page 25 of Teasing

It’s on the tip of my tongue toyes, sirhim again, but I bite it back down. No need to purposely annoy him before I’ve been properly caffeinated. It’ll probably happen accidentally soon enough anyway.

“I know we talked about Rosie’s allergies the other night, but they’re all detailed in the binder.” He nods toward the purple plastic folder in my hands, like I’m not sure what in the world he could be talking about, and I bite my tongue. This is his daughter, and if he needs to give me written instructions to feel better about leaving her with me, I can understand that. But as he reaches over and opens it—as if I’m incapable of following along—my understanding wanes. “The first tab is Rosie’s allergies.”

This poor little girl. Her list is so long.

He flips to the next tab, and my attention catches on the intricate tattoos on his hand and the way they move with his muscles. They’re beautiful.

“Emmie—” My eyes snap up to his. “The next tab is all the important numbers. Mine. Jamie’s. Ryker’s. Obviously, if you need Ryker, text him. My parents’ numbers are listed, as well as my aunt, Scarlet Kingston-St. James’s. She runs the Kings. If you need me and can’t reach me while I’m at practice or a game or anything football-related, she should be your last option. But she’s an option. Her phone is permanently attached to her hand, and that’s her personal number.” His pointer finger slides further down the page, as if he didn’t just give me the private cell phone number of one of the most powerful women in the country. My head throbs the slightest bit as my brain threatens to explode.

The differences between his family and mine are staggering.

Maverick keeps going, “The pediatrician. The stadium is at the bottom with specific instructions on how to get through to me if I don’t have my cell phone on me because I’m on the field. Again, my aunt is your last resort, but don’t hesitate to call her if you have to.”

Maverick doesn’t bother pointing out that 911 and the number for poison control are both listed on the bottom of thepage as he flips again. This time the tab is orange. “Color coded. Color me impressed,” I giggle, but the big grump just shakes his head.

“This is her schedule. Rosie’s generally up by seven and typically ready to take a nap between twelve and one, but she’s been hit or miss on whether she wants naps this summer. I don’t force it if she isn’t feeling it. Use your judgment.”

“Got it, boss. Don’t force a nap.” He raises his eyes to the ceiling, and I watch as his throat forces down a swallow.

Umm... should that be hot? Because it is.

Wait—how many tabsarethere?

A list of Rosie’s likes and dislikes sit at the top of the next page, followed by approved foods, meals, and recipes. “Wow. You are seriously thorough.”

His dark-blue irises deepen before he clears his throat and looks away. “When it comes to Rosie, I have to be. It could be the difference between life and death.” He drags his hand down his face, then reaches for the binder. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

I rest my hand on his. Mistake number one. An electric current shoots straight through me like I’ve touched the raw end of a live wire before I pull back, shocked. “It wasn’t a bad idea,” I say softly. “I’ve got this. Rosie and I are going to have a great summer, and I will follow every single instruction down to the very last letter. I was just teasing. I guess I’m a little rusty.” I hug the binder to my chest and look up at the seriously sexy giant.

Wait—not sexy.

My boss.

My bossy giant.

I mean . . . that could be fun too.

Oops.

“I promise you, we’ll be fine, and I’ll take incredibly good care of Rosie.”

Maverick swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple work. “She’s my world.”

Cue melting. Like, into a legit puddle.

Is there anything hotter than the way this man loves his little girl?

Not hot. Fatherly. He’s a good dad.

Maybe a little hot.

A teeny, tiny, little ember kinda hot.

The ones you don’t even realize are still smoldering until they light the whole darn forest on fire.

I put out my imaginary fire and focus on Maverick. “And while I’m here, she’ll be my world. I promise.”

It takes a minute, but that seems to satisfy him. At least a little.

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