Page 45 of The Overtime Kiss

He shrugs. “No. Yes. Maybe. You never know.”

“You’re stuck with me,” I say, since I will dig my heels into this job like a dog refusing to let go of a one hundred and eighty-seven-day-old bagel it’s found on the corner.

“Good,” he says, and his shoulders seem to loosen a notch, a sense of ease relaxing his smile as he gathers supplies around the kitchen.

That’s my cue to go. I gesture toward the stairs leading to my apartment. “I should leave you to it.”

Give him space to be the dad and all.

“Right,” he says, but he sounds a little wistful. Almost like he wants me to stay? But no, that can’t be it. This is family time, not get-to-know-the-new-nanny time.

Besides, that soft look in his eyes right now? He’s probably just tired after the team meeting. Which makes me wonder…

“Are you sure you don’t want me to cook?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I’ll handle it.”

And yeah, I should go. “Just let me know about tomorrow’s schedule. Text me, maybe. If you can’t find me, that is,” I tease, since I can’t seem to stop running my mouth.

“I will.”

“You’re leaving soon for an away game, right?” The Sea Dogs season opener is in Las Vegas against one of their main rivals.

“Yes, in three days,” he says, and that’s when I’ll be really busy with the kids—it’ll be all me on Thursday and Friday. “Tomorrow you’ve got some skating lessons in the morning, right?”

“I do. I’ll have to rise and shine since it’s really early,” I say, grateful I can work my skating schedule around the job.

“I’ll take them to school so you can get to it.”

“You sure?”

“Of course. You’ll be busy when I’m out of town. And Elle won’t have them till the weekend after this one.”

“Right,” I say, since Tyler’s shared a schedule with me already. The kids are with him most of the time since Elle’s swamped with med school, but she’s got them a couple weekends a month, and a few nights here and there. I’m glad she’s still involved in their life—for them, of course, but also forhim. Being a single parent with a full-time job that takes you out of town a lot ishard.

I don’t want to infringe on the time he has with his children, so I make my way to the staircase that leads to the garden apartment as Luna trots down from the second floor to the main one. But before I round the corner, Tyler calls out, “Do you want to build a taco?”

It’s sung, and it sounds exactly like the famous song “Do You Want to Build a Snowman,” and it tells me that Tyler watchesFrozenwith his kids.

I can’t resist singing back, “It doesn’t have to be a taco.”

A few seconds later, Luna’s joining in, inviting me to build a taco too. It’s tempting. Truly it is, especially with the a cappella invite, but I should let them be a family. “Thank you, but I’m all good.”

They both serenade me more as I head down the stairs. I nearly turn around and join them.

A couple hours later, I’m researching wildlife sanctuaries in the area for Luna, how far they are from here and the programs they offer, when there’s a knock on my door.

When I open it and see Tyler standing there, he’s quick to say, “The kids are getting ready for bed. Do you want to build a taco now? It’s pretty fun. Parker made the Big Dipper, which is an asterism, as he likes to remind me, because god forbid I not know every detail about the stars. Luna made a taco cat, with lettuce as the tail, and everyone got gummy bears. And there’s more than enough.”

My first instinct is to say no. I’m not sure I need any more awkward moments with this sexy man.

But then he goes for the kill with: “And I figured you andLuna eat the same things, so there are plenty of veggies for you.”

That does it for me—the way he noticed this little detail. “How did you…?”

“I paid attention,” he says, and I replay when he would have figured that out. I haven’t mentioned my personal food preferences to him, and we haven’t eaten together…except. Holy smokes. He remembered from the nachos on my wedding night? When I saidno meat. This man’s memory is…sexy.

My stomach growls in appreciation for his offer for so many reasons. Maybe especially because Chad was always goading me to eat medium-rare burgers or braised fish or Chicken Pad Thai. Like my not eating meat was some kind of challenge he needed to win. But mynothing with a facechoice wasn’t about control or perfectionism. It is just who I am. It is my choice and mine alone.

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