Connection (Temptation #6) - K.M. Golland Page 0,1

let her in, and she bounds into the room like a sun-kissed whirlwind.

“Hello, baby girl.”

Bending down, I knead my fingers into the base of her ears. She smiles, which makes me smile.

“Did your rude, inappropriate mummy take you for a walk today?”

Sasha barks and whips her tongue across my face.

“My guess is that’s a no.”

She goes for a second tongue-whip, and I scrunch my nose but laugh. “Who needs men when we have dogs like you, huh?”

She barks again.

“Exactly! Men are jerks.”

Sasha rolls onto her back and kicks her legs in the air, so I sit on the ground next to her and scratch her belly, her leg twitching like crazy.

“Oooh yeah.” I scratch harder. “That’s the spot.”

My phone sounds an incoming message, so I abandon Sasha’s belly and reach into my handbag, pulling it out to find a text message from Oliver.

Oliver: I’m sorry, Lib. Got caught up. Raincheck?

I roll my eyes at his lame excuse. Pfft. Caught up? More like forgot.

Today isn’t the first time Oliver—a teacher and colleague at my school—has stood me up, but it will be the last.

I decide not to respond, and a few minutes later, another message sounds.

Debating whether or not to look, curiosity ends up getting the better of me.

Oliver: I swear, Lib. My grandma needed me to fix a leaky tap.

His grandma? Pa-lease. I’m not falling for that. I toss my phone onto the bed and stand up, ready to take a shower and get dressed for my mother’s birthday dinner, when doubt creeps up my spine like a spindly spider and stops me.

What if he’s telling the truth? I mean helping his grandma is quite lovely and chivalrous, and I shouldn’t punish him for being a wonderful grandson, should I?

Biting my lip, I clasp my phone and hover my finger over the Reply button until I eventually press it and type him a response.

Libby: It’s okay. I hope you fixed the leak.

Oliver: I did. Thanks for understanding, sweet cheeks.

Sweet cheeks? Warmth spreads over my body, and I feel a little fuzzy but also a little weird; he’s never called me sweet cheeks before. In fact, he’s never called me anything other than Lib or Ms Hanson.

Oliver: So, raincheck?

Libby: Sure

Oliver: Great! Dinner Wednesday?

I smile; dinner sounds perfect.

Libby: Looking forward to it.

Oliver: See you Monday.

Placing my phone back down, I silently curse myself for being too quick to vilify him. Sure, he’s stood me up a couple of times before, but he’s always apologised and tried to make amends, and remorse has got to count for something.

Sasha barks her impatience and tries to paw my hand, so I clasp her fluffy face and kiss the space between her big brown eyes. “Your mummy is wrong, Sashy. Prince Charming does exist, and he thinks I have sweet cheeks.” I hug her to my chest, and she licks my chin. “I just have to wait for him a little while longer. And shit!” I cringe at my hands. “I need to paint my fingernails.”

Chapter Two

“Happy birthday!” I hand Mum a bunch of flowers and some bath bombs from Lush then wrap my arms around her tiny frame. Like me, she could pass as one of Snow White’s dwarfs.

Mum buries her nose in a rose and breathes in. “Thank you, dear. They’re lovely.”

I mouth, “Hi” to Dad, who’s carving a roast beef at the bench behind her. He slips a small sliver of meat into my mouth, presses his “shh” finger to his lips, and winks.

“Mm,” I mumble, quickly swallowing the evidence. “Smells delicious, Dad.”

Mum pulls back and holds me at arm’s length, her eyes suspicious slits. She then assesses my appearance, frowns, and pulls the hair ties out of my braids before flicking my hair with her hands so it fans over my shoulders.

“Hey!” I touch a tendril and frown back at her. “What did you do that for?”

“Piggytails, Elizabeth? Really? You’re too old for piggytails.”

“I am not. My students love them.”

“It’s the weekend; you’re not seeing your students until Monday.”

Mum ducks into the dining room, so I give Dad a kiss on the cheek then make my way to where my sister, Fiona, is jiggling her daughter, Isabella, on her hip.

“Hey,” I say to Fi and hold my arms out.

Izzy launches into them, so I kiss the crook of her chubby neck, making her giggle.

“Thank God,” my sister says. She cracks her neck from side to side then stretches her back. “She’s getting too heavy to hold all the time.”

“So don’t hold her