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“This is Daddy’s special friend.” Gracie beamed.
Cage cleared his throat. “This is Presley Duncan. She used to spend her summers here, and she just came back to town for a little bit. She’s not staying long.”
Well, that was kind of a dick thing to say. He didn’t need to act like I was some random person he’d met on the street.
The man suddenly seemed anxious to get me out of town.
I held out my hand. “Yep. I barely know the guy. But his daughter sure is sweet. Nice to meet you.”
Gracie giggled, and I had no idea if she even had a clue that we weren’t being friendly. Mrs. Clifton chuckled before being pulled away when two kids started arguing over a cookie.
A little boy sauntered over, and he was glaring at Cage with his arms folded over his chest.
“Hi, Mr. Gracie’s dad.”
“Hello, Preston.” Cage’s tone was dry, lacking any emotion. “It’s Mr. Reynolds.”
“Like the tinfoil?” The little kid smirked, and it was hard not to laugh.
“Nope. Like the man that’s about ten times your size.”
“I might be as big as you when I grow up.”
Gracie was gaping from her father to the little boy, and she looked at me with wide eyes.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I heard you weren’t in school yesterday. Are you feeling all right?” Cage raised a brow. Who knew that kindergarten tension could be so riveting? I had no idea what was going on, but these two were definitely not friends.
“I got ‘spended ‘cause Gracie tattled on me.” I imagined that was kindergarten speak for suspended. Was that a thing in kindergarten now?
“You cut my hair,” Gracie said, just as a woman walked over to stand next to Preston.
She had long blonde hair, the tightest white tee that dipped inappropriately low for a school party, and cleavage for days. She stared directly at Cage and batted her lashes, and I tried not to roll my eyes at how obvious she was.
Leave a little something to the imagination, lady.
“I heard our kids had a little love squabble,” she purred.
It took all I had not to wave my hands in her face. She hadn’t acknowledged me. How did she know that we weren’t together? What if I was his girlfriend? I scooted my chair closer to Cage, and he glanced over and smirked. It was the first friendly gesture I’d gotten from him in two days.
“My daughter is five years old. She doesn’t have love squabbles, Rhonda. But I suggest you talk to your son about being careless with scissors. He cut a piece of her hair off two days ago. If he’d slipped, he could have really hurt her. And just know, if it happens again, I’ll take this a lot higher than going to the principal.”
“Oh, Cage, kids will be kids. How about you and I talk about it over dinner and drinks this week?”
His shoulders stiffened, and the look on his face was even more irritated than usual. I decided to throw my hand out in her direction. “Hey, I’m Presley. I think the big guy here is going to be busy with me for a while.”
“Is that right? I’m not sure I understand,” she said, glaring at me and completely ignoring my hand, so I pulled it away.
“I think she was pretty direct,” Cage said. “And I’ll say it nicely for the last time. Teach your son how to handle scissors.”
Rhonda whipped around and reached for Preston’s hand, and the kid stuck his tongue out at Cage. To my surprise, Cage stuck his tongue out at the little boy, which had my head falling back in laughter. Gracie had gone to get us more cookies, and I studied the man beside me.
“Did you really just stick your tongue out at a five-year-old?”
“Did you almost just throw down with his mother?” he said, unable to hide the smile on his face now. He leaned close to my ear so only I could hear. “That kid gets under my fucking skin.”
Yeah? Well, you get under my skin, too. But in a very different kind of way.
Chills ran down my back, and I tried to remain composed.
