Boss On A Leash: A Single Dad Billionaire Romance Kara Hart (100 books to read .TXT) 📖

I turn, calmly breathing to take the red out of my face. “I live in Seattle, over in the Ballard District,” I say.

He chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “Me too.”

Biting the inside of my lip, I feel the urge to smile. Holding it back seems like the better choice, so I bounce on my heel and nod once. “Well, maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. Maybe at Golden Gardens,” he says.

I just want to get home. “What?”

“The off-leash trail over by the water,” he says.

“Oh. Right. Yeah, maybe,” I say. “Well… Bye.”

“Bye, stranger.”

I step out into the warm sunny day with a pretty strong understanding that I won’t be going to the Golden Gardens. I’ll find a different dog park, one in Belltown or Capitol Hill, or another state entirely.

Later, as I’m nearing home, I pull off the freeway and turn off the bubbling engine. I stare at Rowdy’s massive body as he snores.

I round the corner and turn into a side street that leads to my boring apartment complex. “We’re almost there, buddy,” I call out.

I hear Rowdy’s tail thumping against the seat.

Just as I pull into the parking garage, I get a phone call. It’s not one of my contacts, but the number looks vaguely familiar. Not wanting to interrupt the network, I slam on the break before I’m underground. Rowdy’s pretty freaked out.

Hesitant, I answer the phone. “Hello?”

A nasally voice responds, tone squashed by the crap cell service. “Hello, Ali Greenwald?”

I push the phone between my cheek and shoulder, staring into the rearview mirror as I back up. I make it about a foot before a car turns behind me. “Uh, yeah. Sorry if the phone gets fuzzy, I’m just pulling into my garage. Who’s this?” I ask.

“This is Dr. Jordan Berman,” the voice says.

I’m so flustered and out of my element, the name isn’t ringing a bell. “Who?”

Something gets Rowdy’s attention. He darts up, nose pressed against the window.

Dr. Jordan Berman clears his throat. “The dean over at Shadow Park Valley Day.”

It’s such a rich school the principals call themselves dean. “Oh, right. Yeah, hiya-hey, how are you?”

“Well, not too good, if I’m being frank. One of our teachers quit.”

Quit? This could be the moment I’ve been waiting for. I’m stretching my mouth, attempting to reply, but I’m not sure what the right thing to say is. I’m still a little hurt about getting rejected the first time. Granted, I’ll do anything to get this job, including forgetting all about that.

The car behind me honks. I turn, motioning for the person to just hang on one-second, but of course, that brings a series of honks that swell like a crescendo. “Oh, Jeeze.”

Dr. Berman breaks through my awkward shell. “Listen, the reason I called is because we need an English teacher to fill out the rest of the year.”

The man in the car steps out, yelling something awful in the background. Rowdy starts to growl, low.

The dean of my dream school keeps talking. “I know it’s not much of a heads up. We called a few other applicants, but it appears they were snatched up by that Baelith Academy,” he asks.

I start to ease off my car break as the man taps on the glass. Rowdy bucks and roars, pounding against my window.

“Is this a bad time?” he asks

“Oh! No better time than now. I’m available,” I shout.

“Okay, astounding,” he says. “Can you send me a copy of your lesson plan and be here on Monday?”

What day is at again? Oh, yeah. Saturday. That gives me two days to come up with a lesson plan that might fit. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me.

“Sounds great, Dr. Berman. Thank you for the opportunity. You won’t regret it.”

Famous last words.

Marc

To get to my office, I have to cross over the bridge, usually through Redmond, but sometimes Mercer Island has less traffic. If I happen to miss traffic, which is just about never, I can make it to downtown in less than forty-five minutes. If I hit it, I’m screwed. Each minute gets shoved aside to make room for the next. By the time I’m done with work, it’s already nightfall.

It’s not the easiest trek in the world, and I hate to make it twice. So when I get a call from Sammy’s principal that tells me she’s in trouble for fighting, I’m more than livid. In fact, I can’t even comprehend it.

When I walk into the school, I’m pretty fucking pissed off. My daughter can be a handful, but there’s no way she did anything to instigate anything bad. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.

The Dean, Dr. Jordan Berman, meets me near his office. Sammy is sitting inside. A fearful look hangs in her eyes.

Before I greet the man in charge, I give my daughter some faith. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie. You don’t have to worry.”

Seeing her face brighten after a hard beginning brings a smile to my face. But her smile quickly turns into a frown, and I can tell she needs to get everything off her chest fast. This was not her crime. “Daddy, a boy pushed me and now he’s telling everyone I pushed him, but I didn’t push him. I promise.”

Dr. Berman’s hand falls by the wayside as I nod past him. “I’m late for a meeting,” I say. “Let’s get down to business. Tell me what you think my daughter did, and I’ll give you a thousand reasons why you’re wrong.”

Judging by the flinch of muscles near his jaw, I’ve hit a nerve. Nevertheless, he sits behind his desk, reeling in that last stitch of confidence with a quick sip of coffee. In my home, we offer guests a cup as soon as they walk through the door. They do things differently around here.

“Before I start, I want to say that no one is passing judgment. That’s not what Shadow Park Valley Day does with accusations like this. We’re simply collecting information and sorting it