Page 5 of Reckless Desire

The taller one chirps away with Ash, but her friend’s face falls. If she only knew what choices I had to make in my life, she’d be less disappointed I’m leaving. She might even thank me for leaving her alone.

My lifestyle doesn’t allow a normal relationship. There are important women and commitments in my life already. The most important one is waiting for me right now.

I leave quickly and speed walk the few blocks to the school.

“How is my favorite girl?” I squat and Caroline runs to me and wraps her arms around my neck. I inhale her scent of innocence.

She wiggles out of my arms. “You’re late. Nico’s mom is gone. And you’re sweaty.”

Every time I come after Nico’s gone home, she gives me shit, my little angel. Nico is her best friend.

Caroline’s teacher leans in the playroom's doorway, smiling at us. Another woman—one of the helicopter moms—is grinning as well. Both are looking at me.

Stepping into a kindergarten as a single man is akin to swimming with sharks. Not as deadly since most of the moms are married and their flirting is harmless, but it still requires careful navigation.

Particularly in the case of Caro’s teacher, Ms. Eliza, who is single and drools when she sees me. She is a lovely woman, I think. And a good educator. Caro adores her, but she hasn’t taken the hint, or the hundred that I’ve given her in the last month since Caro started here.

“I’ll try to be here sooner on Monday.” I stand up, giving both women a grin, as fake as possible not to encourage them. “Get your shoes and let’s go. I’m in a hurry.”

“Why?” Caro doesn’t move.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, again with the whys. “I have to work tonight.” She opens her mouth to undoubtedly kill me with another why, so I quickly add. “And we need to hurry if we want to get ice cream first.”

That shuts her up. Her eyes widen with excitement and she runs to get her shoes, her ponytails bouncing. My heart flutters. How this little person can stir all my warmest emotions and melt me into a puddle every time is beyond me, but she does. And I love it.

“She’s a lucky girl. Don’t mention i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m out loud here because the rest of us will be in trouble, forced to spoil our kids as well,” the helicopter mom teases me. Her smile is so wide, her jaw might crack.

“I think Caro is the luckiest girl,” Ms. Eliza chimes in, staring at me with glassy eyes as if I was a saint’s apparition.

As far as I’m concerned, very little in Caro’s life could be described as luck, but I won’t point that out. We do the best we can with the cards the universe has dealt us. I scramble for words to respond to them as both women stare at me in expectation.

I indulge them because good relationships are critical. I’m glad Caro has settled here, because there has been enough uncertainty in her life and the last thing I wanted was to rip her out of the environment she’d known since she was barely a year old. However, I had little choice.

Since the school runs have become more my responsibility, we made the tough decision to move her closer to my work, so I could pick her up without canceling trainings.

“Ladies, I’m the lucky one here. One of these days, I should get more parenting advice from you.” I wink at the helicopter mom, my sarcasm successfully covered, and turn to Caro’s teacher. “Ms. Eliza, Caro adores you.” I smile as color floods her cheeks.

Sometimes I think I should act like an asshole to fend them off, but my mood is always brighter around Caroline, so here I am, killing these women with semi-kindness, encouraging their advances. Instead ofactinglike an asshole,I am one.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Eliza.” She breathes the words and I shudder internally. Even if I was attracted to her, she has no chance. I’m not on the market.

“Are the children alone in there, Eliza?” The helicopter mom raises her eyebrows and jerks her head to dismiss the teacher.

“Two scoops?”

I look down. Caro is glaring at me, her hands on her hips, ready to negotiate and get out of here. Not as ready as I am.

“Ladies.” I nod to the two women and take the hand of the only woman that matters here. Well, she has years to become a woman—and thank God for that—but she is the most important person in my life.

“One scoop, pumpkin.” We cross the yard and turn onto the sidewalk, Caro bouncing and me slow-walking beside her.

She stops. “I’m not a vegetable. My name is Caroline.” She cocks her head, glaring again, frustrated I don’t remember.

“Sorry, cookie,” I tease. She draws the line at all endearments related to food.

“Hey,” she protests.

“Sorry, Caroline, I’ll behave, but if you keep stopping there will be no ice cream.” She flinches and starts marching. With all the power of an almost-six-year-old.

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