Love Like Ours (Sugar Lake Book 3)

by Melissa Foster

  He stepped into the doorway to hear her more clearly, wondering how many guys in the class were actually paying attention and not filling their mental spank banks with images for later. She was either oblivious to the sensual vibes she naturally emitted, or excellent at ignoring that vixenish side of herself as she held her chin up high and stood ramrod straight. The epitome of a professional.

  “Over the past twenty years,” she said as she paced, “changing geopolitical and socioeconomic conditions have shifted society’s constructs of American manhood.”

  Holy shit. What was she lecturing about?

  Her gaze swept over the crowd—over him—to the other side of the room, then quickly darted back to him.

  Hello, beautiful. Remember me? The man you almost killed?

  Her eyes widened, and she stumbled for words. He slipped off his parka and settled into a seat, no longer hungry. At least not for food.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MONDAY EVENING TALIA worked late and stopped by Fletch’s house with chicken soup she’d picked up from the diner in Harmony Pointe. She drained the noodles and chicken, to avoid irritating his sensitive stomach, and poured the broth into a bowl. Then she filled Molly’s bowl with dog food and brought the soup to Fletch.

  She set the bowl on the coffee table. “Your girlfriend stopped by your class today. She seemed more than disappointed to see me rather than you.” She was referring to Dina Manco, or as Fletch referred to her, Dina Man-Eater Manco. “She peered into the classroom, gave me a dirty look, and then took off. Are you sure you never hooked up with her?”

  Fletch gave her a deadpan look. “Don’t demean me like that. I have no idea how the woman got tenured. The woman hits on men like it’s her job. More importantly, when are you going to let me set you up with one of my buddies?”

  Molly lumbered over and sniffed around Fletch’s soup bowl.

  “Go finish your dinner, Mol.” Talia set her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “You look and feel like hell and you’re asking me that? Didn’t we have a conversation about topics that were off-limits when we first became friends?”

  Fletch managed a semi-smile as he pushed up to a sitting position. “We did, but that was eight years ago.” He tapped his temple. “I tend to forget things.”

  “Uh-huh.” She plunked herself down beside him on the couch, took off her heels, and tucked one leg beneath her, taking a moment to look him over. His blond hair was matted from sleep, his face had lost its color, and he had gray circles beneath his eyes. He looked like a washed-out version of himself, and beyond exhausted. Fletch was like a brother to her. When they were together, neither one had ulterior motives or hoped for a romantic relationship with the other, which made their relationship easy and comfortable. She reached over and touched his forehead. At least he had no fever. “Can you just get better already? Are you feeling any better?”

  “Slowly. I swear it’s like this thing zapped two years’ worth of my energy,” he said, shifting a little on the cushion. “Falling asleep is a nightmare with the pain in my stomach. But don’t think you’ll thwart my question with your caring nature.”

  She sighed. “Who got to you? My mother or one of my sisters?”

  “A gentleman never tells.”

  “I’m going to kill them all. I almost ran over a man in the parking lot this morning because my sisters and mother were harassing me on the phone. And now my car smells like God knows what from one of my mother’s love potions.”

  He laughed, which turned into coughing, grabbed his chest, and sank back against the cushions with a groan. “Sorry. Good old Roxie.”

  “Watch out, or I’ll sic her on you.” Fletch was divorced, and everyone knew better than to try to hook him up with anyone. His ex-wife had cheated on him, leaving him with the same lack of trust in the opposite sex that Talia had, which was probably why they were such good friends. Well, that and the fact that they had many things in common, like how seriously they took their careers and their love of academics.

  She nodded toward the soup. “Eat. You need your nourishment. The guy I nearly killed is one of your students. He showed up late to class, ogled me for the longest time without ever cracking a notebook, and then he left early. I get so sick of students who aren’t serious. They’re just wasting money.”

  “Half the kids in our classes have never had to earn a penny in their life. They have no idea how valuable the education is that they’re wasting. But as far as being ogled goes, you just described the habits of just about every girl I’ve ever taught. Only they usually show up wearing slinky outfits. What does the guy look like?”

  “I don’t know. He had blue eyes.” Blue eyes that she couldn’t stop seeing, and broad shoulders. Really broad shoulders and powerful thighs . . . “And long hair,” she said to distract herself from going any further off the deep end. “I want to drag his butt to a barber.”

  And now that she was thinking about it, that butt of his was pretty darn nice, too.

  Oh God . . . Now I’m thinking like Piper.

  “Again, that describes way too many guys, Tal. Take it as a compliment. Every student’s got a dirty-professor fantasy. Don’t pretend half your students don’t fantasize about you.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I see them as students not guys.”

  “Mm-hm. Then why’s the guy you nailed in the parking lot sitting between us on the couch?” He arched a brow and ate a spoonful of broth.

  “He is not!”

  Fletch chuckled, then grabbed his stomach, moaning with pain. Talia reached for the bowl and set it on the coffee table. “Lie back and put your feet up. I’ll get you some water.”

  She pushed to her feet, and he grabbed her hand. “It wasn’t your mother or sisters. I care about you, and hot girls aren’t supposed to spend their evenings playing nursemaid and walking their friend’s dog.”

  She didn’t think of herself as hot, but they’d been through that argument before and she wasn’t about to get into it again.

  Molly lumbered over with her leash in her mouth and whined.

  Talia loved her up. “I love your dog. But if you keep talking about setting me up with your friends, you’ll have to find someone else to bring you soup. It’ll be just me and Molly, right, girl? Your daddy can wither away to bones for all we care if he doesn’t stop the setup talk.”

  Molly licked Talia’s cheek.

  “I think she agrees.” Talia filled a glass with water.

  After Fletch was situated, Talia bundled up in her long red coat, thick wool scarf, and gloves and headed outside with Molly. Molly loved to walk through town and greeted everyone they passed. Every few steps she bit at the snow piled up beside the sidewalk. It was a game to her, catching snow, and Talia was sure it was the dog’s way of reminding her that she’d like to catch a few snowballs.

  Their breath clouded in the frigid air. Talia didn’t mind the cold when she was dressed for it, unlike this morning, when she hadn’t had her coat on and her top had been wet with coffee. Her mind drifted back to her encounter with Mr. Blue Eyes. She conjured his face, and her body heated up. He wasn’t even her type. And she definitely had a type, which did not include long hair, torn jeans, or disrespectfully attending classes late and leaving early.

  She slowed as a couple stopped to pet Molly.

  “He’s beautiful,” the woman said.

  “He’s a she,” Talia said, glad for the distraction from her thoughts. “Molly, and thank you. She belongs to a friend.”

  The man hugged the woman and kissed her cheek. “If you want one, we can get one.”

  “Maybe after the baby’s born.” The woman touched her belly, which was hidden behind a puffy coat. They thanked her and went on their way.

  A pang of longing washed through Talia, and she huffed out a breath. She hadn’t thought of her single status very often until Willow had fallen in love with Zane and then Bridgette and Bodhi had found each other. She was thrilled for her sisters, truly she was. But it was like their happi
ness had flicked a switch inside her, creating some sort of alert system she had no control over.

  Now she had inescapable, and annoying, pangs nearly every time she saw a happy couple.

  “Come on, Mol,” she said, and led her to the corner to cross the street toward the park. Throwing snowballs seemed a much better option than dodging pangs.

  When the light changed and the line of cars came to a halt, Talia and Molly headed into the street. As they approached the center of the road, a Subaru that had been stopped at the crosswalk inched forward. Talia stopped, gripping Molly’s leash tighter, and waited for the car to stop again.

  “Come on, girl,” Talia said, taking a step forward and watching the Subaru like a hawk.

  The car inched forward again. She stopped and glared at the driver’s tinted window. It opened, revealing Mr. Blue Eyes, a smile lifting his incredibly full lips. Talia had never been struck dumb, but in that moment, those eyes and those kissable lips did her in, rendering her unable to process a single thought past Holy fudge.

  “How does it feel to be in the target zone?” He raised his brows.

  Molly barked and ran toward the car, jerking Talia from her ridiculous reverie. “Molly!”

  “Hello, beautiful girl,” he said to the dog with a hefty dose of knee-weakening sweetness as Molly went paws-up on the door. Blue Eyes reached out with both hands to love up Molly, revealing several beaded bracelets around his wrist, as he allowed the happy dog to lick his scruffy, gorgeous face.

  Someone honked, and those wicked blue eyes drifted up to Talia’s, setting off all sorts of fireworks in her belly. She yanked on Molly’s leash, her pulse racing faster than it had when she’d nearly run him over.

  “I’m heading in to work,” he said. “You should stop by and let me buy you a drink.”

  “I’m not a big drinker.” And I don’t meet men I don’t know in strange places.

  “No drinks. We’ll just talk.”

  The cars behind him honked again, but he didn’t seem to care. His gaze remained locked on hers like metal to magnet. “I’m bartending at Decadence. It’s off Main Street.” He winked and said, “Hope to see ya around, Teach.”

  Over the next hour, as Talia walked Molly and returned her to Fletch, she thought of at least fifty reasons she should not go to Decadence and only two reasons she should. She was pretty sure that showing her sisters she wasn’t a shut-in and getting one last glimpse of Mr. Blue Eyes weren’t the best motives. But as she stood staring at the entrance of what was obviously some type of upscale nightclub, panic bloomed inside her so hard. Just then her phone vibrated with a text from Piper.

  Maybe you can track down hot almost-roadkill guy and give him my number!

  She read her sister’s text for the third time. Her gut twisted at the thought of Piper’s hands on the man she couldn’t stop thinking about. She shoved her phone into her coat pocket and pulled open the door to the club out of spite . . . or maybe lust.

  A group of people came up behind her, and a very large man reached over her head and held the door. “Go on, sweetheart. I’ve got the door.”

  The three women and two guys who were with him ushered her into the crowded, dimly lit club. She had no choice but to move with them toward the long wooden bar flanking the right side of the room. Music blared as she weaved around tables and dancing couples. When she neared the bar, she spotted Mr. Blue Eyes serving a drink to a gorgeous blonde. He and a burly, darkly handsome man with short black hair moved swiftly between filling orders and chatting over the bar with what seemed like at least a dozen men and women. Her stomach turned. What was she thinking? She wasn’t about to become a groupie for some slacker student, no matter how magnetic his eyes were.

  The object of her lust looked over, and their eyes caught and held. Electric currents ignited between them, rooting her in place. The other bartender leaned toward her and said, “Hey, babe. What’s your pleasure?”

  Mr. Blue Eyes placed one hand on the burly guy’s shoulder and yanked him back. “Dude, that’s my future wife you’re talking to. Back off.”

  Future wife?

  The women and men gathered at that end of the bar turned to check her out. The other bartender eyed them. Talia’s stomach knotted up. She wanted to run out of there, but she was afraid a single step on her wobbly legs would send her to her knees.

  Mr. Blue Eyes lifted his chin, a confident and all-too-sexy smile on his lips as he leaned over the bar, ignoring the two women eyeing him, and said, “Hey, Teach. What can I get you?”

  Oh shit. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want a drink. She didn’t want to be there. Only . . . she didn’t want to look away from him, either.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered, brown-eyed girl,” he said in a soothing, protective voice that rattled her to her core.

  Her insides swirled at the endearment, and she reminded herself that calling her brown-eyed girl or Teach negated the need for him to remember her name. Wasn’t he sly? Her phone vibrated again, and she thought of Piper giving her grief for being a wimp. Or worse, coming there on her own to pick up the man who had finished making her a drink and was now watching her so intently she practically felt his big hands moving over her skin. Even as another employee tapped him on the shoulder, his gaze never wavered. She thought about the exit, contemplating making a break for it, but Blue Eyes was on the move, a few steps from where she stood, lifting that strong, scruff-covered chin again and holding up a drink. He flicked his chin, sending his hair away from his face, and holy moly, what a gorgeous face that was. The way he held her gaze made her feel like the only woman in the bar. She reached for the glass despite everything inside her telling her to leave. Her sisters would never believe this. She didn’t believe it.

  “I’ve got to cover a friend’s shift,” he said in a belly-twisting bedroom voice that awakened her girly parts. “Hang around. We can chat after I’m done.”

  She watched him walk away, trying not to stare at the worn denim hugging his incredible, strong-looking ass. She didn’t know how long she stood there, watching the doors he’d walked through, but at some point the bar went nearly pitch-black and the music changed to a fast, staccato beat. People cheered and shouted as the crowd moved toward a stage she hadn’t noticed at the back of the room. Neon blue lights flashed as curtains parted, and a man’s silhouette became visible, tall and broad, chin down. Talia held her breath as his hips began gyrating and he danced out of the shadows and into billowing smoke rising from the stage. As if in slow motion, the smoke cleared, revealing the hip-thrusting, muscular-armed, thick-legged, blue-eyed bartender wearing dark slacks and an open button-down shirt, showing just enough skin to make her mouth go dry.

  She. Couldn’t. Breathe.

  Clutching the glass, she downed her drink in one fell swoop and absently set it down on the bar. It tumbled onto its side as she registered what she’d drank. A Shirley Temple. She looked up at the man parading around onstage like the heartthrob he was. He had actually listened when she’d said she didn’t drink. Why did that touch her so deeply?

  She had to get out of there. His hotness was clearly making her lose her mind.

  She started working her way through the crowd, heading for the exit. But he was like a hot and hectic train wreck, and she had to look again. He grabbed his shirt, those sexy hips moving so fast and furious she could feel them against her own as he tore his shirt off and tossed it into the crowd. She pushed through the cheering mob, needing to get away. The music peaked.

  She had to look, and—ohmygod!—he ripped his slacks off. Tore them from front to back, and they fell to the stage in a heap. Her jaw dropped open, her heart slamming faster than the frantic music as a woman tried to climb onto the stage and a big, bearded man stopped her. Piercing blue eyes met Talia’s, captivating her as he dropped to the ground, moving with grace and power like a fucking caterpillar on steroids. With his eyes locked on Talia, his ass shot up and drilled down in wild pulses, and his strong arms dragged him
toward the edge of the stage. Talia’s insides clenched and heated, desire pooling low in her belly. Women threw money, men cheered him on, and he mouthed the words to the song as if he were singing directly to her.

  Talia’s phone vibrated, awakening her sex-starved brain. She thrust her hand into her pocket, needing to be grounded by something real. Something familiar. Something without a G-string or a formidable package nestled between its thick, powerful thighs. She took one last long, lascivious look at the man she had no business watching, and then she hightailed it out of there.

  She was shaking when she reached her car, images of him writhing before her seared into her brain. She drove away knowing she could never go back there. She could never look that man in the eyes again.

  Except maybe in her dreams when she was alone, in the dark of night, with only herself to answer to.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY no good reason for Derek to be sitting in what he now knew was a class called Millennial Masculinities, when he should be catching up on the sleep he didn’t get last night, triple-checking his thesis, or any number of important things. But it had been a long damn time since a woman had intrigued him as much as the Parking Lot Plower, aka Professor Fletcher, had, which was why he’d given up on his Wednesday afternoon to-do list and sat like the rest of her students, watching the hottest teacher on the planet stroll across the floor as she talked about the shredding of masculinity in America.