Page 38 of Pucking Daddy

And when it’s over, when the tension finally loosens just enough for me to breathe again—

I stare up at the ceiling and let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

“Great,” I murmur.

Because that did absolutely nothing to fix the actual problem.

***

The next morning, I brace myself before walking into the kitchen.

According to his schedule, he’ll be home.

Jaxon stands at the counter, one hand wrapped around a coffee mug, the other braced against the edge like he’s been there a while.

His hair is slightly mussed, like he didn’t bother fixing it. His T-shirt clings to his shoulders in a way that should be illegal this early in the morning.

He looks… dangerously good.

“Morning,” he says.

It shouldn’t do anything to me.

It’s just a word. Two syllables. And yet—

My stomach tightens like it’s bracing for impact.

“Morning,” I return.

I move to the other side of the kitchen, putting space between us, reaching for the coffee maker like I haven’t spent half the night thinking about him.

“Lily’s already at school?” I ask, because small talk is safe. Neutral. Necessary.

“Yeah. She told me to tell you hi.”

I smile at that. His daughter really is something special. “Thanks.”

He sets his mug down. “We should probably talk.”

I inhale slowly, bracing myself. “Okay,” I say, turning to face him.

I expect criticism. A continuation of our argument the other day. Instead—

He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling like this is harder than he wants it to be.

“I was out of line about the tutor thing.”

The words land somewhere between surprising and… disarming.

I blink. “You were?”

His mouth tightens slightly, but he nods. “I expected you to handle something you didn’t have the information for. And I regret how I handled it.”

“Okay,” I say evenly. “That’s good to hear. I appreciate that.”

“My communication was subpar, and I shouldn’t have come at you like that,” he adds.

There’s effort in it. I can see it. This isn’t easy for him.