Page 77 of John Wilder Gets Schooled
I nudged him out of the way and picked the brush up. “Thanks, man.”
He glared at me, but he was lying to himself if he thought I believed it for a second. Chase’s scowl was nothing more than protective armor.
It didn’t take long to make Gracie’s hair respectable—it helped that I’d had plenty of practice with my own long hair—and some colorful clips pinned down the parts that weren’t cooperating. Still, we were racing the clock after she insisted on tying her own laces.
Gracie chattered all the way on the short drive to school, always excited for a new school day. I’d miss that when she started dragging her feet when she was a little older. Although maybe she never would—Danny always said I liked to borrow trouble, but that was second nature with a kid. There was a lot to worry about. Lot to celebrate too.
I parked out on the street in front of the school, not wanting to get caught in what passed for Goose Run’s idea of a traffic snarl inside the parking lot. I held Gracie’s hand all the way to the classroom, another thing I’d miss when she grew out of it.
Avery was waiting at the door, and he lookedgood.
Okay, he looked normal, in his khakis, polo shirt, and rainbow lanyard. But it wasn’t Avery the teacher I was seeing right now. It was Avery my boyfriend, who’d cooked me breakfast this morning and let me use his stomach as a pillow last night. And who’d also half choked me with his cum last night.
I was sure my face was bright red as Gracie and I approached him.
“Good morning, Gracie,” he said. “Good morning, Wilder.”
“Hi, Mr. Smith!” Gracie held her hand up for a high five.
“Ready for another fun day?” he asked her, dimples appearing when he smiled.
“Yes!”
“Do your snacks need to go in the refrigerator?”
Oh, shit.
Gracie dumped her backpack on the floor and unzipped it. A moment later she looked up at me, eyes wide. “Daddy!”
“Uh,” I said. “I, um?—”
I forgot the fucking snacks.
Avery raised his eyebrows and gave me a look I hadn’t seen since the first few weeks of the school year. Then his mouth wavered, and his smile reappeared. From behind his back, he produced a small yellow lunchbox and slipped it into Gracie’s backpack. His mouth barely moved as he murmured, “I figured you might have forgotten.”
He stepped aside so Gracie could dart into the classroom.
“Don’t make a habit of it, Mr. Wilder,” he said, and then winked.
The asshole.
But he wasmyasshole.
“See you tonight,” he said in an undertone.
“See you,” I said, an echo and a promise, and then I grinned like an idiot all the way back to my truck.
CHAPTER 20
WILDER
NOVEMBER
“Hey,” Chase said suspiciously, staring at Avery’s refrigerator. “Is this where you got the idea for that chore chart?”
I reached around him to grab a beer since he was being so slow about it. “Yup.”
Since I’d started working with Larry Harper, Avery had been watching Gracie on the afternoons that the guys couldn’t, and the chore chart had appeared on his refrigerator soon after. The chores weren’t really chores at all. It was stuff like washing her hands before eating, remembering to put her toys away, and watering the herbs on Avery’s kitchen windowsill. But I’d done up a chart for home as well, with chores like making her bed and brushing her teeth and putting her shoes away. I’d caught Chase giving it a narrow-eyed stare more than once.
