Page 7 of The Single Dad's Guide to Recreation

ChapterThree

AVERY

In what I’m now referring to as the Before Josh Times, I slept like the dead at the end of every day. But in the After Josh Times, I wake in the middle of each night all… hot and bothered. Which is not only embarrassing, it’s wrong. I lie there, hands pressed to the mattress to keep them away from my private parts, reminding myself that the man I’m lusting over—the man I literallyfell on top of—is married. I’m not sure what it’ll take for my subconscious to get the message but avoiding him seems like the best tactic.

It would be easier if he’d stop calling me.

I love being busy, but the new stressors added to my very full schedule mean that everything takes a bit more out of me. Frankly, I usually get a little high from ticking off the many items on my many to-do lists. But this week, my sleep has been compromised, which means that everything else suffers.

I’m lecturing myself on the importance of good sleep hygiene as I push a cart loaded with supplies to the canasta club meeting. When I pass the open door of the art room, catching sight of the man of my dreams in a passionate discussion with Daisy, CPR’s art teacher, I crash the dang cart right into the wall. “Son of a nutcracker!”

“Are you okay, Avery?” Daisy calls.

“I’m fine,” I yell back. “It’s just the, um, fudged-up wheel on this thing.”

I’m crouched on the floor playing fifty-two pickup times ten with the canasta cards when I get a whiff of the scent that makes a beeline directly from my nostrils to my Virginia.

“Here, let me help.” His fancy leather shoes squeak, and when Josh squats next to me, I’ve got a front-row seat for a pair of masculine, muscled thighs straining to be contained by khakis. I have a long-standing policy to avoid sex with men whose thighs are smaller than mine, and Josh definitely passes that test. Not that I should be keeping score.

“I’ve got it,” I protest, even though I’ve stopped cleaning up to watch his large, capable hands collect the playing cards.

“Avery?”

He’s looking at me like he just asked a question which I obviously missed because I was fantasizing about other things those hands might do. Thankfully, when he holds out a stack of cards, I catch sight of that dang wedding ring. “No. I can’t. But thank you.”

Taking the cards and dropping them onto the cart, I hustle away to drop the supplies off before I do anything else I’ll regret. Fifteen minutes later, when I pass the art room again on my way back to the office and Daisy yells my name, I’m surprised by the sharp tone in her voice.

I mean, what’s she got to be mad about? She was the one making googly eyes at Josh while they talked about… whatever they were talking about.

When I pause in the doorway, she grabs me by the elbow, pulls me inside, and shuts the door behind me. “Avery Mills, what were you thinking?”

“Uh… when?”

“When you said you couldn’t meet with Mr. Harmon!”

“Meet with Mr. Harmon? What are you talking about?”

“What areyoutalking about?”

“Whatever you and he were talking about.”

“What did you think he was talking about?”

“I… uh, thought he was hitting on me.”

“Hitting on you?”

Right.It would be ridiculous that someone like him would flirt with someone like me when whimsical, winsome, willowy art teachers are hanging on his every word. Even if he wasn’t married.

“You have to talk to him.” Daisy gets right in my face like I’ve been staring off into space. Like I probably was.

“Why?” I ask, a little too defensively.

“He’s meeting with all the team leaders.”

I am so confused right now. “Leaders of what?”

“CPR? The place where you work?”

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