by C J Burright
All traces of humor in Ian vanished. “If you push me, I’ll provide statistics of others who didn’t take their stalker seriously and wound up dead. These admirers didn’t target a loved one. They went straight for the throat of their number one idol.”
A chill spiraled through Garret, making his scalp crawl. Violence couldn’t always be predicted or prevented, he knew that, even though it had never touched him personally. He preferred to keep the status quo in that regard.
“I’m not disagreeing with assigning a musclebound, hardcore SWAT member to watch Miss Crabapple.” Ian leaned near and looked him square in the eyes. “A fan’s admiration isn’t always rational. You need protection too.”
Since the day Ian had jumped into a schoolyard fight that wasn’t his own, knocked a fourth-grader off Garret’s first-grade back and proceeded to break the bully’s nose, Garret had recognized what drove Ian O’Connor. He had a soft spot for the underdog, a ferocious need to protect those he loved and, no matter the shiny exterior, he’d fight fang and claw for whoever made it into that secret space inside the shark suit. Once earned, his loyalty was irreversible. Bromance eternal.
The last of his annoyance drained away, and he nodded. “Fine.”
“Good.” Ian clapped him once on the shoulder, both in approval and reassurance. “Roman knows some guys, very discreet. You won’t even know they’re there.”
Garret raked his fingers through his hair. What a quandary. “Is this a nonnegotiable part of expanding my musical horizons—looking over my shoulder, hiring bodyguards, worrying that someone I love might get hurt because of me?”
“Look on the bright side, dude.” Smirk back in place, Ian headed for the door. “If you were ugly and untalented, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The unnatural silence in Adara’s classroom itched beneath her skin. She dropped her red pen on the desk and the plink echoed between the graveyard of empty seats. The clock ticked a loud, dismal beat she’d never noticed before. Garret had taken the kids to the auditorium to begin realistic concert practice. Alone. He’d insisted she stay behind so when the performance actually happened, she’d enjoy the full surprise. Secretly, she loved the idea. Publicly, she’d protested.
They’d been gone ten minutes. He was probably already duct-taped to the flagpole.
She drummed her fingers on the desk, anything to fill the quiet. She’d survived a night on his couch, midnight confessions and an unfortunate early morning Ian encounter. Then, a Saturday spent overseeing an emergency home security system installation and collecting far too few signatures while her house was molded into an impenetrable fortress. Keeping Garret from playing guard dog on her porch had taken several threats, a poke in the butt with her umbrella and a broom aimed at his perfect hair.
If only she could push him out of her thoughts and reclaim every piece of her heart as easily. One by one, he’d picked up the broken fragments while she wasn’t looking and tucked them away, out of her reach. She wasn’t sure who held the majority now. He might win the vote.
She slouched in her chair. Sunday had been even worse. He’d shown up at dawn with a peppermint mocha bearing her name and proceeded to ruin her untouched kitchen with cooking and other sordid activities best reserved for restaurants. Food fumes still lingered, reminding her with each breath. He’d completely neglected the microwave, and it had been hard to protest his presence with her mouth constantly full of irresistible culinary feats. While she’d never admit it, his noise had been a relief to the foundation-deep stillness of her house. The silence had lost its solace, and she wasn’t sure if the blame belonged to Bella or Garret.
And she was still short on signatures, with the next board meeting barely two weeks away.
The clock tolled a few more seconds, slow and somber. Twelve minutes since he’d left with her kids, long enough for sufficient torture, long enough for her sense of responsibility to kick in. She’d better check on them. If one of her kids was injured while taking down the music mentor, she’d feel terrible.
Adara opened and shut the auditorium door without a sound and proceeded to lurk. She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a laugh. Kids swarmed Garret like starved piranhas on a hunk of meat. His overwhelmed expression reminded her of the night Tatum had dragged her through the carnival, straight to him, while he searched for his lost niece in a crowd of sugar-crazed children and frazzled parents. Her humor softened into something warm and gooey.
Kids, always in tune with the weaknesses of their warden, took advantage of Garret’s distraction. The ones who’d already lost interest in haranguing him went for the instruments on stage. The Triple Terror huddled around the piano, banging keys, while Sammy experimentally twirled a pair of drumsticks. Tatum, her sights on Zachary, crept behind the piano, hunting her prey. Hell was about to be unleashed, and Garret hadn’t a clue. Someone had to save him, and since she was the only other adult present, the cape went to her.
Taking her time, Adara strolled toward the stage. The closer she got, the easier it was to decipher bits of the chaos surrounding Garret.
“I wanted to play cymbals!” A girl, she couldn’t pinpoint which one.
“Yes, well—” Garret’s unsuccessful attempt to explain.
“How come she—?” Adam, tugging on Garret’s sleeve.
“I—” Garret.
“Not fair!” Zachary, when he wanted to, could match Tatum in dramatics.
“Okay, let’s—” Another Garret fail.
Tatum leaped from behind the piano with a yell. Zachary and another girl squealed, and the chase was on, but they made the tactical error of running straight at Adara. She latched onto their arms as they sped by.
“Listen up, class!” Her yell thundered across auditorium, and every student snapped into still silence, aware of the consequences of disobedience. Garret gave her a look of such utter adoration and relief that she almost lost control of her stern teacher mask. “For the next hour, Mr. Ambrose is in charge. Obey him and you’ll prosper. Misbehave and you’ll go back to the classroom with me for a pop quiz and be eliminated from concert participation.”
Twenty-five pairs of eyes went wide. Make that twenty-six. Garret looked just as scared as the kids.
“If you behave,” she added on a whim, “I may find the key to the treasure trove.”
There was a collective gasp from the kids, and their eyes went wider, brighter. The treasure chest she kept in the classroom corner held all sorts of cheap toys, plastic gadgets and stickers the kind children everywhere eyed longingly in quarter machines. Despite many requests, both innocent and whiny, she hadn’t offered to open the chest this school year. She hadn’t felt like it.
Confident Garret could handle students who’d perform for prizes, Adara came back at the end of practice. Everyone had survived. The kids even lined up in single file behind Tatum without being asked. Whispering excitedly among themselves, they made a jittering train through the hallways to her classroom, Garret and Adara making up the caboose.
“You’re equally terrifying and adorable,” Garret said, low enough the kid caravan couldn’t hear. “No matter what sinister trade you made to acquire them, I’m once again in awe of your freakish control skills. What are you doing after school?”
“I have papers to grade, musician messes to clean up. You know, teacher stuff.”
“And after that?”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Nosy much?”
“When it comes to you, neshama?” He grinned, sly. “Always.”
Since he possessed a natural immunity against her unfriendliness, she sighed a surrender. “If you must know—”
“I must.” He bumped her shoulder with his, bringing a whiff of his cologne, which didn’t help her failing protective walls.
“I still have to convince at least thirty-seven parents to kill the music program and I only have two weeks to do it, so I’m plotting a final push.” Her stomach twisted a bit. She didn’t want to te
ll him that more than half the parents had resisted so far. If that ratio stayed true, she’d be unemployed at the end of school. “I can’t petition on school time, and I’ve been avoiding evenings. Interrupting dinner makes people grumpy, and grumpy people don’t sign petitions, but I might have to risk it. I’ll figure that out tonight. First, though, I’m going for a long, slow run.”
His grin vanished. “What about your ankle?”
“It’s fine. Ache’s gone, doctor gave the okay and I need to get back into my routine. You fed me too much. I might get pudgy.”
“What about”—he dropped his voice to a whisper—“my misguided fan on the loose?”
A few goosebumps sprouted on her arms. She refused to fumble through each day looking over her shoulder. Having one foot in the past slowed her down enough already. While she hadn’t installed the electrical barbed wire fence and booby traps Garret had recommended, she wasn’t worried about unwanted visitors. Plus, everyone agreed Roman was a super-sleuth. If Bella was still sneaking around, he’d find her.
Stopping outside the classroom, she kept her cool and collected face on. “I’m wiry and my brother liked to tussle. No Belgian beauty can take me down.”
“It’s not her fists or hair-pulling techniques that worry me.” Lines bracketed his mouth, exactly what she didn’t want. His concern threatened her battlements in a bone-deep way, digging beneath the surface to erode her roots.
“Hair-pulling?” She added a small smile to her tone. “That’s unsportsmanlike.”
His jaw clenched. “Not the time to test my humor level, Adara. I’m more concerned about what she may or may not be carrying.”
Like a weapon. She hid a shiver. Outrunning a bullet wasn’t happening.
“I’m waiting for you after school.” He narrowed his eyes in a menacing look and his voice held a growl. “And I’m following you home, making sure your house is secure. If you insist on running, I’ll take you to the health club and stand guard while you sweat it out on the treadmill, but you’re on a time limit. Bob and London invited us to dinner and you’re going. I want all the people most important to me in one spot, where I can see them.”
“I can’t sit at the same table with Ian and pretend to be polite.” She folded her arms. It was a valid excuse.
“Ian has unchangeable plans.” His smile still hadn’t returned. “Nice try.”
His pushiness didn’t suffocate her like she wanted it to. Instead, that troublesome fluttering awakened, making her warm and fuzzy. She paused outside her classroom door and faced him. “I’m on bus duty this week.”
“I’ll wait.” He folded his arms and stared at her in challenge.
A thrill raced down her spine. If he used that threatening expression on the kids, he’d control them as easily as he unknowingly controlled her. “Fine. Until Bella’s accounted for, I’ll forego my trails. I don’t do treadmills, so I guess I’ll have to find something else to do.”
A gleam entered his dark eyes, and his stony expression softened. His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Finding alternatives to running until dinnertime won’t be a problem.”
His low, honeyed voice brought to life a hundred different steamy possibilities and her mind flat-lined.
“Miss Dumont.” Zachary tugged on her sleeve, his brown eyes woeful. “Tatum pinched me and she won’t get out of my seat.”
When she lifted her head, Garret was halfway down the hall. Unfortunately, the sizzling inside, restless and needy, didn’t leave with him.
* * * *
After school, Garret followed Adara home, inspected every inch of her house then promptly dragged her into his car. He didn’t release his shackle on her arm until he had her deep inside the pet shelter, where fur, tails and whiskers could work their magic.
She leaned down to look at four squirming kittens behind glass, hooked—as he’d hoped. “This isn’t what I was expecting to do after school.”
He’d considered keeping her occupied in other ways, with his mouth and hands, which she’d probably suspected, but once he started that route, he wouldn’t want to break for dinner…or ever. The weekend with her had ratcheted everything to a breaking point—his body, his head, his need for her, even in sleep. A hint of coconut lingered on his couch, blanket and pillow, infusing his dreams with Adara, and he wasn’t ashamed to play the teenage crush card. Until she was with him permanently, he had no intention of washing her scent from his blanket.
Adding the unseen stalker threat to the mix only made him more protective, more aware of their deepening bond. He wanted her in a way that transcended rationality, and if he revealed that, she’d sprint to some uncharted island, beyond his reach. So he’d restrained his urges and kept all body parts and romantic proclamations to himself. Mostly.
Ben-zonna, it was torture. But he’d endure as long as it took for her to admit the truth on her own. He could only hope she was close to cracking.
“Pining for your pirate ship?” From Adara’s cocked eyebrow, she’d been looking at him for some time, waiting for an answer to some question he hadn’t heard.
“You agreed to help me pick out a cat. An increased likelihood of visitation, remember?” He hovered near her elbow, in case the feline spell broke. And because he liked being close enough to sense her warmth, smell her sweetness, maybe touch her accidentally on purpose. “I need help.”
“That’s an understatement.” Her words didn’t hold any edge. “I agreed to help you choose books, not pets.” She tapped on the glass, her gray eyes sparkling as one calico kitten tackled another and pranced away. “Aww. I forgot how cute they are.”
So she remembered the joy of cuteness. A good sign. He straightened and stuffed his hands in his pockets, content to watch Adara coo over the kittens, if not him. He regretted not tape recording her painkiller-induced question on their first date, when she’d asked if he purred. He would, if she ever decided to touch him again. She seemed to have forgotten the heat they’d shared the night of his college performance. He still hadn’t forgiven Gia for the untimely interruption.
“What sort of temperament are you looking for?” Strolling on, Adara kept her gaze on the confined cats. “Frisky or calm, sweet or independent—or more of an attack cat that hates people?”
“Saucy with a side of sweet, independent with a need only for me, and if she wants to attack those who deserve it, I’ll be supportive.”
She glanced at him and her mouth twitched. “So you’re looking for an older cat? One whose pace you can keep up with?”
He nodded solemnly. “One that will let me catch it every so often for a cuddle.”
Adara met his gaze then looked away. Oh yeah. She understood the subject perfectly.
Barking filtered through the walls from another section, muffled and distant. He’d briefly considered a dog too, an idea quickly killed by London. She’d approved a cat-sitting job for Tatum, should the need arise, but no dogs allowed. Cats were independent. Dogs, not so much. She didn’t need another needy creature to take care of, not that he intended to adopt a pet then abandon it, but his plans were momentarily liquid. He knew the future he wanted, every minute with Adara, a future he’d prefer to solidify sooner rather than later. The Bella incident had merely reinforced what he already knew. With a kitten’s fate involved too, maybe he should step up his game.
She stopped so suddenly that he bumped into her. “Garret,” she said, low and breathless. “Look.”
Whatever had made her say his name in that sexy voice was a must have. He followed her gaze. The blackest, fuzziest kitten sat alone in the very center of one cubicle. It watched them with eyes the color of smoke, serious and cautious, as if while they might mean danger, they also might mean freedom.
Garret read the tag on the outside of the glass aloud. “Angel. Four months old. Found abandoned beneath a church. Guarded, but sweet once he gets used to you, which will take time and patience for the right owner.” He smiled slowly. Perfect. “Want to hold him?”
Adara fo
lded her arms. “Nope.”
He opened the cage door. “Why not?” The kitten cringed as he reached for it but didn’t struggle once he had it close to his heart. The fur was irresistible, and he rubbed between its ears. “It’s so soft, so fuzzy. Are you sure?”
She shook her head, even as she bit her lip.
He wanted to force her to take the kitten, to pet it and admit she wanted it, to admit life contained moments of joy as well as pain, to admit he could give her even more moments of happiness and that he was worth those potential moments of pain. Instead, he let it go and stayed in their strange comfort zone of teasing and resisting, catching and releasing. He wanted her admission freely, open and willing.
“You aren’t allergic, are you?” He rubbed his cheek on the cat’s head, who didn’t seem to mind. Maybe the warning label was fixed to the wrong cage. “This isn’t a diabolical teacher plan to have a ready excuse to avoid me?”
“Rats.” She snapped her fingers. “I wish I’d thought of that.”
A quiet rumble rose from the kitten, and Garret gave Adara his sunniest smile. “I think he likes me.”
“Of course he does. Everyone likes you.” She looked disgruntled by that. “You’re some kind of snake charmer.”
“Charmer of scaly creatures, unruly children and aloof teachers. It’s a gift.” He wriggled his eyebrows.
She rolled her eyes, and he knew he had his kitten. Soon enough, he’d have his girl too. No warning label would stop him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
After comfortably situating Garret’s new adoptee—which Adara nicknamed Hellion instead of Angel—in his laundry room, they drove to Bob and London’s house at a pace faster than grandma on a scooter. She wouldn’t have minded if he’d kept to a speed of corpse on crutches.
