by Bru Baker
Grant hoped the guy would fill one out today. If he didn’t find out his name soon, the nickname Hot Divorced Dad would be indelibly imprinted in his mind, and he’d never be able to call the poor man anything else.
Four weeks before Christmas
“SINCE WHEN do you take private lessons, Grant? And on a Sunday?” Krista barked, her arms crossed over her chest.
Grant knew he was in for a fight with Krista about the private lessons, so he put off telling her until she came over for brunch the next afternoon. He realized waiting had been a serious miscalculation the moment the words left his mouth, but he hated having people disappointed in him. He’d wanted to put off the confrontation as long as possible.
He’d met her at the door in his coat and blurted out the news the moment she walked in. She hadn’t even had a chance to take off her own coat. Probably could have handled that better, he thought ruefully as she glared at him. His roommate, Mel, shifted around from his seat on the couch, his eyebrows raised.
“Oh, so he didn’t tell you either?” Krista huffed out a breath and shook her head. She pinned Grant with a look that made him cringe. He’d never tell her, but Krista had murder eyes when she got mad. “Typical. What the hell? We’re not hurting for money that badly. When did you even set this up? Why isn’t it on the calendar?”
He and Krista had struggled with teachers flaking and forgetting their classes until they’d come up with the simple solution of starting a Google calendar for the store. All the teachers had access, and it automatically sent a reminder to them on the days they were tagged in an entry. He and Krista used it to remind them about payroll deadlines and other management-related things too. He’d briefly considered putting the private session with Hot Divorced Dad and his daughter on it, but he didn’t want to set a precedent of offering the lessons. If their teachers saw it, they might want to start offering private lessons themselves, which would mean Grant or Krista would have to be there regularly on Sundays.
“Uh….” Grant flinched when Krista’s thin lips tightened. She looked like a rotten lemon. All of his carefully thought out excuses fled. “The dad is hot.”
Krista groaned, and Mel let out a delighted laugh. “Never change, darling,” he crooned.
“Shut up,” Grant said without heat. “They came in yesterday and wanted to sign up for the holiday craft series.”
“The one that’s been fully booked practically from the beginning,” Krista put in, sounding annoyed instead of angry. That was a good sign.
“That’s the one. Anyway, the kid was cute, and they were nice. Like, Hallmark Channel nice. I said I’d take her on for private lessons so she could do all the crafts. It’s just a couple Sundays. No big deal.”
“Three,” Krista said. “It’s three Sundays. That’s not nothing. Shit, Grant. We don’t open the store on Sunday for a reason. You need a day off. Especially now. You’ve been working, what, fifty-hour weeks? You can’t keep that up.”
It was closer to sixty, actually, but she didn’t need to know he was bringing home paperwork to do all the tedious stuff at night. They’d both been working overtime since expanding the store’s hours in September, but he’d taken on the brunt of it himself. It was his store, after all. He didn’t bother correcting her on the time commitment—what Krista didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He’d rather she thought he was just doing the three-session craft series instead of admitting he’d practically begged them to sign up for a fourth.
“It’s just an extra two hours a week. And as soon as we get past the holiday classes, we’re going to hire an assistant manager. Then we can get back to normal hours.”
He’d have to survive her two-week vacation first. That was going to suck.
“It’s his day off, Krissie,” Mel said, drawing Krista’s ire for using the nickname she hated. Grant could’ve kissed him. “Let the man do what he wants.”
“It’s not a day off if what he wants to do is work.”
Mel rose from the couch and grabbed the coat that had been draped over the back. “Sweetie, since when is hanging out with a hot man work?”
“That’s another thing,” Krista said. Great, Grant thought. She’s catching a second wind. “You have more sense than that, Grant. Since when are you such a pushover for a pretty face?”
Mel snorted out a strangled laugh. “Oh, honey. Sometimes I forget you didn’t know Grant in college.”
Grant pointed a finger at him. “No.”
Krista’s scowl had melted into a look of curiosity, and Grant mentally prepared himself for relentless teasing in the coming weeks. There was no way Mel would stop with one story. Just like there was no way Krista wouldn’t use everything she learned against him. Ugh.
Grant glanced mournfully at the clock near the door. He’d planned to grab a coffee before Aubrey’s lesson, but thanks to his asshole friends, he wouldn’t have time. At this rate he’d be arguing with them about missing brunch for longer than brunch usually lasted if he didn’t put his foot down now.
“As fun as this hasn’t been,” he said, buttoning his coat. “I need to get to the shop.”
Mel snorted and handed Grant a scarf from the rack as Grant finished buttoning his coat.
“If you’re committed to doing this, you should be charging out the ass,” he told Grant, holding on to the end of the scarf until Grant looked up and met his gaze.
Krista snorted. “He’d rather have this guy up his ass.”
Grant frowned at her. “Inappropriate,” he muttered. “This guy has a little girl. I’m doing it to help them out.”
“You want to help yourself right into his pants,” Krista scoffed.
“You’re just mad you didn’t see him first.” Grant blew a raspberry at her, sputtering when Mel wrapped the scarf around his neck and the wool scraped over his tongue.
Krista laughed. “Damn straight. Which is what he is, by the way.”
“I’ll feel him out. If he’s on the prowl for a new mommy for his kid, I’ll hand the lessons over to you.”
“You sure as hell won’t! I’m not giving up my day off for a piece of ass, no matter how well it fills out a pair of jeans.”
Grant grinned at her. “Really, really well,” he said wistfully.
That had both Mel and Krista laughing, which had been Grant’s goal. He understood why they were upset he was skipping out on brunch, but he didn’t want to leave with them angry at him. Sunday afternoons were the only time they had to get together, but December was always busy. Mel was taking off for a business trip the next week and would be leaving for the holidays soon after he got back, and Krista would be heading home to Wisconsin for Christmas with her parents for a few weeks soon. It wasn’t like he was the only one missing their standing brunch date. He just had the flimsiest reason.
“We’ll bring something back for you,” Krista promised. “And we can open a bottle of wine when you get home to help with all your lusting-after-a-straight-boy angst.”
He opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. Krista had him pegged pretty well. He was already feeling guilty about perving over the poor guy’s ass. “Fair.”
AUBREY AND her ridiculously attractive dad were waiting on the store’s stoop when Grant trotted up. The sweat trickling down the back of his neck from running the three blocks from the nearest L station turned cold when he saw them. He nearly tripped over himself as he rushed to open the door.
“I’m so sorry,” he said as he fumbled with his keyring. He couldn’t get the key in the slot with his mitten on and had to pull one off with his teeth so he could try again.
“No worries. We were early,” Hot Divorced Dad said with a sheepish smile. God, could he be more adorable? They weren’t even inside yet, and Grant was practically drooling. “Aubs didn’t want to be late. She was excited to get started.”
Right. The reason they were here. Grant abandoned the key in the door for a moment to reach out and give Aubrey a high five. “Of course she was because art is awesome!�
� he said, forcing himself to put aside his ridiculous crush and step into art teacher mode. He might have offered the lessons because he thought her dad was hot, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t get his full attention while she was in the studio. Grant loved what he did, and he took it seriously. He could still remember the first person to get him excited about art, and he hoped he could be that person for at least a few of the kiddos he taught.
Grant pushed the door open, taking a moment to breathe in the comforting scents of the studio. No matter how chaotic things got in the store, the smell never failed to settle something inside him. Earthy notes of clay mixed with the sharp pine of the wood frames he and Krista stretched canvas over every Saturday night, layered with the scents of all the supplies they used to teach little hands how to create something magical.
Grant squared his shoulders and stepped aside, flicking on the overhead lights as he made room for Aubrey and her dad to come inside. He hated working under the fluorescents, but unfortunately the small space didn’t have enough natural light to avoid them.
“We’re working on cross-stitch today, right?” he asked as he unwrapped his scarf and took off his coat. He hung both on a coatrack behind the counter, then motioned Aubrey toward a kid-sized bank of cubbies with hooks so she could get comfortable too.
She zeroed in on the pattern she’d looked at yesterday as soon as her coat was off, dashing to the back wall to grab it.
Her dad shook his head and laughed. “She was up at dawn, positive someone would buy it before we had a chance to.” Grant had pulled one of the kits off the shelf and tucked it under the counter just in case, but he merely smiled. “Must be fate’s way of blessing the project, then,” he said when Aubrey returned, clutching the kit to her chest. “You said yesterday you wanted to make some changes. So let’s lay out the pattern and figure out what other supplies we’ll need, okay? It’s always best to make sure your project is organized before you start.”
Hot Divorced Dad dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of heavyweight paper. Grant almost bit his tongue when he unfolded it. It was a watercolor painting of a cross-stitch pillow. The level of detail was mind-blowing. He’d captured the grid-like pattern with such skill that Grant was half sure it would have a texture if he reached out to stroke it.
“It looked like this,” the guy said, handing it over. “Right, Aubs?”
She bounced at his side, grinning ear to ear. “We had to think really hard to remember all the parts,” she said, closing her eyes to demonstrate. “But it looks just like Mom’s pillow. Do you think we can make the pattern look like that one?”
It was very similar—Aubrey had a natural eye for design. She’d singled the pattern out yesterday on a wall full of them. But with her dad’s talent, that was hardly a surprise. The painting was amazing, and knowing he’d knocked it out from memory in one evening was even more impressive.
“Definitely. The kit comes with a few of these colors, but we’ll need some more.” Grant handed her the painting and nodded toward the wall of embroidery floss. “Why don’t you go figure out which ones we’ll need?”
Aubrey skipped off with what Grant was beginning to realize was her customary enthusiasm, and he turned his attention back to the man in front of him.
“You’re an artist?” he asked, his heart skipping at the bashful way Hot Divorced Dad looked away and flushed.
“Not really. Just a hobbyist.”
“Hell of a hobby,” Grant said with a low whistle. “That was gorgeous. Seriously. I’d love to see some of your other work.”
The flush grew deeper. “Thanks,” he said, his voice rough.
“You should hang up your coat,” Grant said, aware he’d made things awkward. “I’ll get Aubrey started.”
“Oh,” the guy said, stopping Grant. “I forgot to ask, how much are the lessons? Are they about what the series costs?” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “If the lessons are a lot more expensive, we might have to cut back and not do all four. I’d already ordered Aubrey’s Christmas presents when she found this, so at this point my Christmas budget is completely blown.”
The series was $225, which was in line with what Grant usually charged for month-long sessions. But those classes ran two hours each, and he wouldn’t have to pay an instructor since he’d be coming in to do it himself. He did some quick mental math. Twenty-five a class would cover the materials. Mel’s words were still ringing in his ears so he tacked on an extra ten just so he could say he was turning a profit since he knew Mel would ask. He didn’t have to say how much profit. Not that Krista wouldn’t check and rat him out in a heartbeat.
“Actually, private sessions are $35 an hour. Even if you do four, it’ll work out to be cheaper than the class.”
Hot Divorced Dad’s expression turned incredulous. “Private sessions are cheaper than the classes? Are you sure? Maybe you should check with your manager or something. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Grant bit back a laugh. He was already in trouble—Krista would never let him live this down when she found out. “I’m sure. I handle all the private lessons. We’re good.”
Hot Divorced Dad slipped a hand into his back pocket and came out with a wallet that looked like it had seen better days. When he flipped it open and pulled out a credit card, Grant realized it was made of—
“Dude, is that Batman duct tape?” he asked, gaping at it.
“My name is Josh, and yes,” he said, handing over the card. “Aubrey went through a duct tape art phase last year.”
“So she made that?” Grant asked, still eyeing it. The tape was peeling around the edges, and it only had one large pocket, but if it was a year old, it was actually holding up pretty well.
Hot Divorced Dad—Josh, Grant reminded himself—rubbed at his neck, a bashful blush creeping across his cheekbones. “No,” he said, looking even more embarrassed. “We made wallets together. Hers was Elsa. I made this one. We watched a YouTube tutorial.”
Grant fell a little bit in love with him for that. “Well, if you want to level up, I can show you how to make one with a pocket for cash and little ones for your credit cards,” he said. He keyed in the arbitrary amount he’d decided on for the classes and swiped Josh’s credit card, surreptitiously glancing at his last name—Clarke—before handing it back.
“You do classes for adults?” Josh asked as he tucked the wallet back into his jeans. He took the form Grant handed him, as well as the pen with the giant felt flower on top of it that most guys refused to use. Josh didn’t seem at all bothered by the hot pink dahlia as he began using it to fill out Aubrey’s information.
“We, ah, no,” Grant stammered. He couldn’t even have a normal conversation with this man without tripping over himself.
Josh looked up and winked—honest-to-God winked. “Another private lesson, then? Maybe after the Christmas rush dies down?”
Grant almost choked on his own saliva. Was Hot Divorced Dad flirting? “Sh-sure.”
Josh finished the paperwork, signed his name at the bottom with a flourish, and handed the clipboard and pen back to Grant. “I’m sure Aubrey would love to do it. I bet I could even arrange it so Santa brings her some new duct tape.”
Right. Aubrey. Grant’s spirits sank. “Of course. We carry some along the back wall if Santa needs to buy some.”
Josh beamed at him again. “Maybe I’ll have to stop by some time without her, then.”
“Oh, right,” Grant said, feeling a bit dazed under the weight of Josh’s smile. “Because you wouldn’t want her here when you buy it.”
Josh tilted his head and held Grant’s gaze for a few more beats. “Right.” His expression amused. “Because of that.”
Josh rapped his knuckles on the counter and turned to almost trip over Aubrey, who’d come up behind him with twenty different colors of floss in her hands.
Josh rolled his eyes and sighed. “She goes overboard, sorry. Aubs—”
Grant held a hand up to stop him. Thing
s had gotten weird, and this was the perfect chance to get the lesson back on track. This, at least, was well within Grant’s wheelhouse.
“No, this is great. We can substitute all the colors if you like, Aubrey. You’ve got a great eye for color. These are going to look perfect together!”
Three weeks before Christmas
GRANT ALWAYS looked forward to Sundays—how could he not, when it was his only day off? But he was embarrassed to admit how much he’d enjoyed spending last Sunday afternoon with Josh and Aubrey and how very much he was looking forward to doing it again today. Even the soggy and slightly browned avocado toast Krista had brought him from their favorite brunch spot hadn’t dimmed Grant’s good mood.
The cross-stitch lesson went surprisingly well. He’d never offered the class to kids younger than ten because it was a bit fiddly and took a lot of concentration, but Aubrey hadn’t had any problem at all. She caught on quick and had been adorable, her tongue poking out between her teeth as she squinted at the hoop in her hands.
Grant glanced at his watch and cursed himself for not stopping for coffee on his way in. He’d been so determined to get to the studio to set up today’s lesson that he hadn’t wanted to risk a line at Starbucks.
Besides, he’d been thrown off kilter last week when Aubrey and Josh had arrived before him. Grant needed some time to himself to marshal his thoughts under the best of circumstances, and working with Hot Divorced Dad hovering over him was definitely not the best of circumstances. Not that he objected to the hovering—it was just distracting trying to teach Aubrey with all that male perfection nearby.
Today would be better. Josh’s appeal would have to wear off soon, wouldn’t it? He couldn’t keep making Grant’s heart speed up every time he walked into a room.
Besides, today was going to take concentration. Grant was always extra careful when he brought a hot glue gun into a class, and today he and Aubrey would be using one for most of the session. He couldn’t afford to have his attention split when a seven-year-old was handling a substance hot enough to cause second degree burns.