“Where is she from?” Mia asked. “And how long is she here?”
“What? You didn’t get all the details before you came over?”
She just gave him a look.
Tate sighed. This was going to go over like a rock. “She lives in Paris, and she goes back in a week. Right after she caters my charity dinner.”
Mia’s mouth dropped open. She stopped pushing Rachel and turned to face Tate. “Paris? Are you serious? The first woman you date since your divorce, and she lives in Paris?”
“I know. Don’t.”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
He grinned at her directness. “None of your business.”
“No way. You lost the right to tell me it’s none of my business when you so totally interfered with Rafe and me. Are you?”
“Aunt Mia,” Rachel cried, kicking her feet as she slowed, “push me.”
Mia gave Rachel a couple of hard pushes and turned that penetrating stare on Tate again. “Tate?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes.”
“Wow,” she said breathless.
“Jesus, ypu make it sound like a miracle or something.”
“You said it, not me.”
He cut her a look. If the kids weren’t around they’d both be swearing a lot more.
She just grinned back at him. “I meant that it’s a bold move, to get into something with someone so far away who you can’t see very often during hockey season. Does dad know?”
“He has an idea.”
“And?”
“What do you think?”
Mia wore a silly little smile. “Well, he’s been in and out of the kitchen all afternoon bending her ear, so I’d say he likes her. Can she travel here?”
“No. She starts culinary school as soon as she gets back to Paris.”
“For how long?”
“A year.”
“Maybe on breaks?”
Tate shook his head. “Drop it, Mia.”
“Why?”
He clenched his teeth.
“Tate?”
“She doesn’t want anything serious. When she leaves, it’s over.”