His Greatest Treasure (Greatest Love #4)

Chapter 4

4

OLIVER

I’ve been at Illumina Dance Studio for four hours now. The steady stream of parents and young kids has been never-ending. I’ve grown tired of reciting the same welcome speech with every new set of faces that approaches the table I’m stuck sitting behind.

I love helping my mom out in the place because she deserves the support. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to pluck my fingernails off one at a time as I’m forced to smile and pretend I’m interested in knowing about Mrs. Clark’s new poodle or the latest HOA decision for a neighbourhood I don’t even live in.

The two phone numbers I’ve been handed—one from a woman with enough kids to outfit an entire baseball team and another shoved beneath my nose by an old lady wanting me to take her granddaughter out—are hidden beneath my empty coffee cup. Out of sight and mind.

I tug at the collar of my shirt and shift in the hard plastic chair in an attempt to get comfortable. My ass is half-numb, but if I stand, I’ll lose the safety barrier the table gives me.

Dad picked Mom up an hour ago, insisting that I’ve kept her from him too long. In reality, she was only here for two before that, but my dad is a selfish bastard when it comes to her time. It’s a miracle he let us have as much time with her growing up as we did. I’m sure it just killed him.

I stretch my legs beneath the table and drop my chin to my chest. My hands are clasped and rest on my stomach as I close my eyes and push the chair back to balance on two legs.

“Don’t tell me you teach ballet.”

The snarky voice has me snapping my hands out to grip the edge of the table to avoid falling backward. I glare at the woman in front of the table before noticing the smaller version of her standing beside her and inwardly wincing.

The girl is short. Dainty , Mom would call her. She has wide blue eyes that stare at me with a slight murderous glint that would scare me if she were older and bigger. Blonde hair that’s brighter and has fewer brown streaks than her mother’s has been parted down the centre of her head and braided neatly. They have the same narrow nose and soft bone structure, making their relation that much more obvious.

Mother and daughter, if I had to bet.

I look from the girl back to the woman. “What are you doing here?”

“You know, at this rate, you’d be better off writing me a list of things I’m not allowed to do and places I’m not allowed to visit,” my new neighbour snarks.

“Would you listen if I did?”

A laugh builds in her throat but doesn’t escape fully. “Not a chance. I’d light it on fire.”

“I’m Nova. This is my mom,” the girl says, taking a step toward the table. She shoots her hand out in front of her and lets it hover over the stacks of papers and pens. The murderous glint in her eyes has dulled, now more curious than anything else. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I clear my throat and try to even out my expression so I’m not shooting daggers at a little girl. Her hand is swallowed in mine as we shake quickly. “Oliver.”

“This is where we sign up for ballet, right?” she asks .

Her mom’s eyes are a brand on my face as she glowers at me. I’m pretty sure she’s wishing she’ll be able to light me on fire with them. Clearly, she didn’t want to see me again as much as I didn’t want to see her, and she doesn’t bother with trying to pretend otherwise.

“Yes,” I grunt.

I search through the stacks of already completed registration forms before finding the blank ones. Snagging a pen from beside them, I offer them both to her mother.

“Fill it out completely, and then leave it with me . . .” I trail off, still not knowing her name.

She hesitates for a moment before saying, “Ary.”

“Right. Fill out the forms from start to finish. If you have any questions, just ask. Try not to leave anything blank, Ary .”

She’s so stiff she’d crack right down the middle if I blew on her. “Do I have to fill them out here?”

“I suppose not. But you’ll have to bring it back to me today either way. Last couple hours to register.”

“Right.”

“You do know this is for those who can’t afford regular classes, right?” I ask before I can think better of spouting off the jackass question.

Shit, my mom would ream my ass out here and now for speaking to a woman like that.

Ary’s peach-tinted lips part, the pillowy look of them hard to ignore even as she curls the top one back. Fury heats her cheeks.

“And just what do you know of my financial status?”

I should apologize. It’s the nice, respectful thing to do. But fuck me, my tongue is loose, and my own frustration with her has me doing all the wrong things today.

“I know that the house you just bought wasn’t cheap.”

“Do you have any hobbies that don’t involve being a—” She cuts herself off with a glance at her daughter before clearing her throat. “We’ll fill the papers out and leave. It seems we’ve already overstayed our welcome. ”

“Look, Mom, empty chairs. We can do it here,” Nova says, jabbing her finger to the plastic chairs we’ve set up by the entrance.

At least she’s na?ve to the tension between her mother and me. Fuck’s sake.

“Great,” Ary says on a breath before clenching the pen and papers and striding to the makeshift waiting area.

I watch her go, my eyes drawn to the graceful way her body moves with each step. It’s like she’s floating on goddamn air, even in a pair of wedges that give her a couple more inches in height. Shit, they do more than just make her taller. The bare expanse of her pale legs leading up to a pair of cut-off jean shorts appear even longer than they did yesterday morning. The tiny shorts, in addition to the oversized white tee that hangs off her left shoulder, make her look like something out of one of a younger me’s wet dream.

Gritting my teeth, I glare at the messy table in front of me and start cleaning it up. Every pen I drop in the plastic cup seems to annoy me more and more, until soon enough, I’m crumpling the edge of each registration form instead of stacking them neatly.

There’s something about that woman that unnerves me. Maybe it’s her scowl that somehow rivals mine or the way she still hasn’t apologized for being rude yesterday—as if she needs to with how fucking terrible I’ve been to her. I can’t put my finger on what it is that’s riling me so badly, and that’s the most aggravating thing of all.

I sit and stew for a few more minutes before she slams the stack of papers on the table, leaving her fingers splayed over the top one until I bring my gaze to hers.

Hunched over the table, she breathes fire, her cheeks as red as the trucks at the station. “Here. Try not to lose them.”

The rapid rise and fall of her chest is hard to ignore, but when my cock twitches in my jeans, I make damn fucking sure I don’t let my eyes stray.

“How did you hear about this place? ”

“That’s not your business.”

I lean forward, my elbows digging into the table. “It is considering this is my family’s business.”

“Worried someone’s been blabbing about you to those undeserving?”

“I never said you were undeserving.”

“Close enough to it.”

“A lot of people try and take advantage of this place. I’m doing my job.”

She blows out a disbelieving breath. “You don’t work here.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

With a flick of her eyes, she looks at the words written on the corner of my T-shirt. “Vancouver Fire Department. Lieutenant Bateman. Are you trying to brag?”

“Why? Are you impressed?”

The flirtatious question confuses me. I stiffen and lean back, putting more distance between us. She straightens, doing the same.

Her next words are pointed, aimed to kill. “Nothing you could do would impress me. I’m not interested in arrogant, selfish assholes.”

“Mom!” Nova gasps, appearing out of nowhere. She gawks at her mom with a devilish grin. “See, it isn’t only Dad that says those words. Now can I?”

At the mention of her dad, I’m searching Ary’s left hand for a ring. If there was a man in her life, why was she moving boxes that probably weighed as much as she does into her house on her own? I don’t have to like her to think she should have had help.

Asshole I may be, but I still wouldn’t have had my woman carrying shit all if it were me. Alone or otherwise.

Ary grimaces and drops her hand to Nova’s shoulder. “No. You can’t. I shouldn’t have either.”

“Ugh. Whatever.”

She closes her eyes for the slightest moment before opening them again. “It’s time to go, Nova. Leave it at that. ”

“We’re coming back soon, right?”

“Classes start in a little over two weeks. You’ll come back a few days before that to pick up your shoes and uniform and meet the instructors. Your mom will get an email with the specifics before pickup day,” I explain.

She nods eagerly and grabs her mom’s hand, linking their fingers. “Okay!”

Ary’s expression is blank as she looks at me a final time and then turns on her heel, tugging her daughter along with her out of the studio. Nova skips beside her despite her mother’s current mood, and it almost makes me smile.

Jamie was like that as a kid. Hell, he’s still like that now. Alive and carefree, happy despite how shitty life can be at times. He’s my opposite, and apparently, so is the little girl whose mother can’t stand me.

Luckily, it’s hard to be offended when the feeling is mutual.