Page 9 of The Do-Over Girl

“Thank you. They smell sinful, Mrs. Pike. You sure you aren’t the devil herself wrapped in the sweet package of a beautiful woman?”

I roll my eyes.

Mrs. Pike giggles. Then she wags a scolding finger at him. “I think we both know who the real devil is around here, Nash Lewis. You behave yourself. I’ve read all about you. No hanky-panky around here. That’s my only rule.”

My grin is automatic, and I could kiss Charline for her scold, even if it was good-natured. I would have preferred more venom, something with teeth, but she’s a reminder that I don’t need to use barbed wire to keep myself safe from Nash when cool wit will do.

As his smile slowly deepens to show his dimple like some kind of time-lapse expression—I don’t know how he does it, but there’s nothing more effective at melting every person with ovaries within a mile—I know I’m going to need all my wits about me to stay safe.

He’s the man who ruined me when I was seventeen, and I have a very bad feeling that he could do it again seventeen years later if I’m not careful.

“Come on in the kitchen, you two. I’ll get you some ice for that red mark on your cheek, Nash.”

My mouth hangs open. She knows I slapped him. Suddenly, my face feels far pinker than the spot on Nash’s cheek. Which, in fact, is hardly anything.

Nash laughs and follows her. I stand there mute and motionless until he looks over his shoulder at me. “Come on, Kali. We’re in this together, you and me, whether we like it or not.” His words are resigned, but they’re soft, too.

The fight drains from me despite all my alarm bells of warning. But I still have resolve, don’t I? I don’t need to fight—in fact, fighting is too exhausting, not to mention ridiculous and all-around terrible behavior. Plus, I don’t like when my emotions get all riled up like that around Nash. It shows I still feel too much. I need to be cool and immune to him.

Even if he is a mean jerk. Or he was seventeen years ago. I heave a breath as we settle into the kitchen, and I’m rewarded with a lung full of heaven—otherwise known as the scent of chocolatey sweets.

“You have brownies baking,” I say with genuine enthusiasm. “How did you know they’re my weakness?”

Charline laughs.

“And here I thought I was your weakness,” Nash says.

My heart rate doubles, and I see red as if my blood pressure goes from fifty to a hundred in a flash. But I keep my mouth clamped shut. Determination forces me to lift the corners of my mouth in a mockery of a smile, but I do it. Then I head for the corner where I see a few aprons hanging on a coat rack and put one on.

He lets out a low whistle. “Impressive.” I know what he’s saying. I also know he’s going to test me and tease me relentlessly because that’s the kind of guy he is. Relentless.

Which was one of the attributes I loved most about him back in the day, especially in bed. Do not go there.

“Why don’t I give you a hand, Charline.” I tie the apron in place. “Looks like you’re in the middle of a big baking project. What’s the occasion?”

“Why the Nash Lewis Arena bake sale, of course. Didn’t Nikki tell you about it? I wanted to do my part to help raise money, and she suggested a bake sale for the first day of school.”

“Why, that’s very kind of you, Mrs. Pike,” Nash says, and I think he means it. Though we both know a bake sale every day won’t put a dent in the money we need to raise.

I should be using this time to plan some real fundraising events—something I’ve helped work on over the years for some of the largest charities in the country. I will use the time to plan. There’s nothing like baking to help a girl think.

Okay, that’s not really a thing, but I’ll make it work.

“Nash Lewis Arena—quite an honor,” I say. Then I ask him what’s been at the back of my mind the entire time. “Why don’t you just donate five million dollars to the school and put everyone out of their misery?”

Nash stops mid-bite of his third cookie. “Don’t you think I offered?”

My eyebrows go up because I don’t get it.

“They turned you down?”

“No. They said they’d gladly take my money, but only a million smacks. They need five million more from the community and other donors to demonstrate broad-based support. They felt burned after the original Andrews Trust ran out and don’t want to rely on any one donor. The Board of Trustees was adamant that the community show support or it wouldn’t be worth keeping the school going.”

“So, let me get this right—you already donated a million dollars, and you’re coaching?”

He nods, chewing his cookie.

“You’re a fine man, Nash,” Charline says.

I roll my eyes, but a little piece of my icy reserve melts all the same.