Page 12 of The Single Dad's Guide to Recreation

My ears prick up at the topic change, but I keep my eyes on my phone.

“Josh?” Leia asks.

“I didn’t get his name. The tall, short-haired one.”

“Josh. Josh Harmon.” Clearly, Leia’s saying his name loudly to get my attention, but I continue to pretend I’m engrossed in emails.

“Got it.” Travis taps his temple like he’s filing away the intel. The man may not know a single Washington politician or state capital, but he knows the full name of every child in this town and most of the adults as well. “Anyhoo, I saw him chatting with Daisy outside the coffee shop this morning and they looked pret-ty cozy.”

The green-eyed monster stirs low in my belly. CPR’s art teacher is everything I’m not. She’s willowy; I’m pear-shaped. She’s a vibrant redhead; I’m a washed-out blonde. She’s talented; I’m just a paper pusher.

“Pfft,” Leia says. “That’s a work thing.”

“How do you know?” I ask before I can stop myself. I mean, they did the re-org meeting last week. Now they’re having coffee? Why is this information making me so angry?

Leia’s brows go up likeI see you, but she just says, “He’s meeting with all CPR”—she pauses to make air quotes—“team leaders.”

“Daisy doesn’t coach a team,” Travis says, looking genuinely confused.

I pat him on the forearm. “She means department heads.”

“Ohhh.” Travis scratches his chin. “I should probably return his calls then, huh?”

“Yes, you should.” Leia says. “And then report back to me afterward.”

“I’ll do it now, chief.” With a salute, he stuffs the last bite of her barbacoa taco in his mouth and jogs to the door leading to the gym and his office.

Leia sighs. “You know what? Maybe it’s better if you avoid that guy. I can talk to him for you.”

“Josh?”

She just nods, balling up taco wrappers and stuffing them into the bag, but her gaze darts to her tote bag.

“But I’m a team leader. I should meet with him,” I argue, even though I’ve been spending the past week avoiding it. Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck goes up as I remember the look on her face after she stowed those file folders. “Youwerehiding something from me when I walked up.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Wasn’t.”

“Let me see those files, then.”

I reach for her bag, but she moves it off the table. “Can’t. Confidential stuff.”

“I call bullnickles.”

She meets my gaze and holds it for several seconds before dropping her bag on the bench and her head in her hands. “I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”

Wishing I could rewind the past few minutes—heck, the entire past week—I force the question past my suddenly rigid jaw. “Find out what?”

She sighs heavily.

“What is it, Leia?”

She winces, swallows, and then blurts, “Playgroup’s on the chopping block.”

ChapterSix

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