Throttle (Jack 'Em Up #3)

by Shauna Allen

  He beat me into the waves and we played in the water for a while, then we built sandcastles, ate our PB&J, and fed the seagulls our crusts until Ryder was pink-nosed and exhausted.

  “You ready to go?” I asked.

  He ran his fingers through the sand. “I guess.”

  “Come on.” I stood and began collecting our stuff. “We can go home, shower, then go out for pizza. Sound good?”

  His dimpled smile returned. “Yeah.”

  I’d never gotten Ryder through a bath that fast. He was starving and the promise of pepperoni pizza in his future had refueled him.

  We made it to the Pizza Shack and got a booth near the front door. I got us both root beers and we ordered our usual: a large thick crust pepperoni with jalapeño on one half for me. My stomach growled in protest of the PB&J that was long gone as pizza spices and garlic assailed my senses.

  I watched Ry color his placemat while we waited and checked my text messages. My sister checking on Ryder. My mom letting me know they were having fun in London. Blake about the Yukon waiting for me Monday morning.

  Suddenly, Ry’s head snapped up and a grin spread across his face. “Miss Waters!”

  I froze then peeked over my shoulder as Ryder leapt out of the booth and ran her way. I took her in, my mouth watering for a totally different reason. Not quite her business clothes, but not her sweats either, she filled out a pair of jeans like a dream. A white T-shirt clung to her and dipped just enough as she bent to acknowledge Ryder. Gray eyes lifted to mine as I uncoiled to stand, a smile plastered on my face.

  “Miss Waters,” I mimicked my son.

  “Mr. Berringer.” A smile flirted with her lips.

  Ryder tugged her hand. “Whatcha doin’? You look different.”

  Tori laughed. “Well, I look different because I’m not at work and I’m here getting some dinner to take home.”

  “You can have dinner with us, right, Daddy?” He peered up at me, innocent expectation shining in his eyes.

  “Uh . . .” I studied her, unsure. Yes, I wanted her to stay, but was that . . . appropriate? What was the proper etiquette when you wanted to jump your son’s counselor?

  She stared at me, her big gray eyes uncertain. My gaze flicked down to her lips, to the tiny diamond nose piercing that had been mysteriously missing at school, back to her eyes. She opened her mouth, but I beat her to the punch before she could decline. What the hell?

  “Join us. Please.”

  Tori

  I swallowed thickly and Trace must’ve sensed my wavering.

  “I promise we don’t bite.” His greenish eyes crinkled with his smile. “Plus, you need to see Ry’s drawing. It’s pretty awesome.”

  My gaze flew to Ryder’s and my doubts fled with the flash of his dimples. “Guess I can’t miss that, can I?”

  I told the girl at the counter to change my order from to-go and deliver it to their table as Ryder grabbed my hand and tugged me to the booth. He slid in first then stared up at me expectantly. I sat next to him as Trace sat across from us, his rangy torso leaning over the table as he curled his long legs under his seat, giving me a mouthwatering whiff of him. Soap, laundry detergent, and just a hint of sunshine.

  I glanced down to Ryder’s drawing of something with wheels and fire shooting out the back. “Wow. That is awesome.”

  “I know.” Ryder proudly picked his black crayon back up and continued adding impressive mechanical bits to his . . . car?

  “So. . .” I forced myself to meet smiling hazel eyes. “What are you guys up to this weekend?”

  “We went to the beach,” Ryder answered without looking up.

  “Oh. That sounds nice.” I fought my body’s desire to fidget as Trace studied me openly. Unlike those nights waiting tables at the Funky Monkey, I couldn’t just saunter away when he got me all hot and bothered. I was stuck here. At least through dinner.

  Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls came on through the overhead speakers and I found myself staring at Trace’s hands clasped on the tabletop. Strong, long-fingered, blunt nails devoid of grease today. Hands that seemed so capable. I wondered what those calluses would feel like brushing over my skin . . .

  I flinched and my gaze shot up.

  His crooked smile mocked me, as if he could read my wayward thoughts. Still, I couldn’t tear my gaze away. This was the closest I’d been to him without being in my professional capacity or the dark, smoky confines of a bar. He looked like he was chiseled out of marble or something equally as beautiful. Sculpted cheekbones, full lips, strong chin. Even the tiny scar that slanted through his left eyebrow seemed painted there. Perfect.

  “So, what have you been up to this weekend?” His voice slid over me, bringing goosebumps.

  “Oh. Not much. Chores at home. Catching up on work.” God, I sounded so lame. A single dad and his seven-year-old had a more active social life than me.

  “Did you buy more M&Ms?” Ryder asked, still coloring.

  “I did. There will be a brand new package when you come see me this week.”

  “Ry tells me he really likes his visits with you.”

  I met Trace’s serious eyes and immediately caught the silent question. We hadn’t spoken since that day in the conference room and he must be wondering how things were going with Ryder’s counseling sessions. I idly picked up a red crayon and twirled it between my fingers. “Yes. I enjoy it, too.” I let a soft smile lift my lips to reassure him. “We have fun.” I glanced at Ryder. “We talk. He’s a very smart boy. A good boy.”

  Relief slid across Trace’s features as he caught my meaning. Things were fine. At least for now. Ryder hadn’t said much about anything too personal, but it was obvious he loved his father and I hadn’t seen any signs of any serious issues yet.

  Our pizzas were delivered to the table, along with a water for me. Trace served me a piece of my thin crust veggie then Ryder a piece of pepperoni before choosing a slice for himself.

  Ryder frowned at my plate. “What is that?”

  “Ry!” Trace admonished him, but his lips were tight as he fought a grin.

  I studied my slice and had to stifle a laugh myself. I guess to a kid, green peppers, mushrooms, onions, and olives were kinda gross. “Veggies,” I replied. “Want a piece?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “No.”

  “No, what?” Trace corrected.

  Ryder peered up at me, his slice halfway to his mouth. “No, thank you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” I said as I took a big bite.

  He ignored that and we ate in silence, only the clink of silverware, murmured conversation from the tables around us, and the soft music overhead filling the air. Yet, it was a companionable silence. I wasn’t awkwardly trying to fill the void with idle chatter and I think I managed myself pretty well, with only minimal blushing the couple times Trace caught my gaze with his smiling eyes. I wished I knew what he was thinking.

  Ryder mowed through a piece and a half before he started bouncing in his seat in boredom. “I need to go potty.”

  “Oh.” I dabbed my lips with a napkin and stood to let him climb out of the booth.

  He took about two steps then spun back. “After I pee, can I play video games, Daddy?”

  Trace’s eyes caught mine before he turned back to his son. “Uh, sure. Here . . .” He drew his wallet out of his back pocket and handed Ryder a couple dollar bills. “Ask Cindy at the counter to give you some quarters.”

  Ryder grinned and took off for the restroom.

  “He’s a great kid,” I said.

  “Thanks.” Trace picked up his half-eaten slice of pepperoni. “So . . . things are going well I take it?”

  I swallowed. “Yes.”

  He flopped his piece back on his plate and grabbed for his soda, but didn’t drink. “I . . . do you . . . is there anything I should know about?” His eyes were deep, serious. “You’d tell me if something was going on with him, right?”

  “Yes, of course.” Both of our gazes tracked Ryd
er as he left the men’s room and made his way to the counter, exchanged his bills for coins, then attacked the video games. I met Trace’s gaze again. “We’ve only started, and I’m taking my cues from him and what he wants to say so I don’t push him while we get to know each other. But, so far, there isn’t anything that concerns me.”

  He bit the corner of his lip. “That’s good, I guess.”

  “It is good.” Empathy slid through me and I found myself cupping my palm over his fisted hand. “He’s a good, smart kid. I think he’s just a bit lost emotionally right now and venting that the only way he knows how.”

  Trace’s gaze dipped to our hands then back up, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his thumb brushed over mine softly, almost experimentally. Something deep inside me clenched tight at the gentle touch, making me yearn for more. So much more.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper.

  My eyes flew to his.

  “At the Funky Monkey, I mean. Hell, I went there half the time just to see you. I sure do miss that waitress uniform.”

  I swallowed thickly at his words. At his hot stare. “So . . . you missed me? Or the tight T-shirts?”

  His laugh was loud and crinkled the tan lines around his eyes, showing me how much he must smile and I liked that. A lot. “Both,” he admitted with a grin as he removed his hand and picked up his pizza again.

  I grabbed mine, too, suddenly wondering what in the hell I was doing. Flirting and holding hands with a student’s father? Bad. Idea.

  There aren’t any policies against it, snickered the devil on my shoulder. Plus, he’s hot and you’ve been scoping out his ass in those jeans for months.

  The angel on my other shoulder tried to rebut, but the devil shoved her aside. His ass, she taunted.

  I slugged back a big gulp of water as I argued with myself. Then I realized I was being silly. A little harmless flirting with a man wasn’t going to keep me from doing my job. He didn’t mean anything by it, surely.

  Ryder hit him up for more money as we finished our meal and I found myself grateful I could slink back to my apartment soon. Being around this man was simply too much.

  I shifted to grab my purse. “Well, thank you for inviting me to sit with you guys, but I should really—”

  “Go out with me.”

  “What?” My purse dropped from my grasp as my eyes flew to his.

  He grinned and I saw a hint of Ryder’s dimples under the stubble. “Go out with me. Please.”

  I snapped my mouth shut as I fought for reason. I wanted to shout Yes! It felt right, but that damn angel started singing in my ear about stupid shit like professionalism and boundaries. “I can’t,” I finally relented to shut her up. “I wish I could, but I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well . . .” My eyes sought out Ryder as a buffer.

  “Is there some kind of rule against it? As long as you’re helping Ry or something?”

  “No. Not exactly.”

  “Then . . . ?”

  “There’s no rule in place against it, but I just started at the school and I’d hate for people to get the wrong idea or think my professional judgment is impaired.”

  “Because you’re dating a hot dad?”

  “Yes . . .” I paused, narrowed my eyes at his smile. “No.”

  “Having your way with a sexy stud muffin?”

  I bit my lip against a grin. “No.”

  “Playing with a pretty papa?”

  “No.”

  His smile fell and I’d swear the air became thicker. “Finally exploring what two consenting adults have been thinking about for a long time?”

  My voice became breathless. “Something like that.”

  “Right.” His gaze dropped to his drink. “I get it.”

  I wasn’t sure that he did, but I was grateful for the reprieve.

  Monday was so busy at school, I could hardly think. Tuesday was, well between two playground skirmishes, four upset parents, and Everett breathing down my neck, apparently trying to get me alone . . . it was atrocious.

  So far, though, Wednesday was okay. The sky was blue when I stepped outside to head to work. Old Betsy ran like a champ. The Starbucks line was short. And, best of all, Everett was off for a personal day.

  I grabbed a chocolate-iced donut from the breakroom, helpless against the smell of warm sugary dough, and headed back to my office with a quick check of the clock. I was supposed to go grab Ryder from class in a few minutes for our weekly meeting while the other kids had story time.

  I scarfed down my donut and popped open the bag of M&Ms and refilled my glass bowl before heading down the hall. Smiling at the janitor, Reginald, and the P.E. teacher, Mr. Castillo, I clipped down to the first grade pod. As I neared Mrs. Delgado’s classroom, the sweet sound of children’s laughter floated down the hall, making me smile. Sounded like fun in there.

  “All right, class,” Angela said as my hand gripped the doorknob. “I know everyone is excited, but we need to settle down . . .”

  I peeked in the small door window and froze.

  The kids were crowded into the front corner of the room, all vying for . . . I blinked to be sure . . . yes, for Trace’s attention. His dark head was bent as he focused on what a little girl was saying to him, Ryder clinging to one hand, another boy trying to climb up his leg. And he was taking it all in stride, as if he was born to be there.

  “Kids!” Angela called again, sterner this time. “Please let Mr. Berringer go.”

  Trace smiled as the kids whined but eventually headed to their spots on the carpet to await their story. Except for Ryder, who had not let go of his father, his obvious adoration and pride making him glow.

  Angela finally saw me at the door. “Ryder. Miss Waters is here.”

  Both Ryder and his father pivoted slowly toward me. Trace’s lips automatically lifted in a smile so sexy I wanted to melt.

  I poked my head in. “Do I need to wait? If Ryder’s daddy is here, maybe . . .”

  Trace shook his head and began to lead Ryder my way. “No. It’s okay. Do your meeting thing.” He glanced down at his son. “I’ll be here when you get back, okay?”

  “You’re sure?” I asked. “I know Ryder must be thrilled to have you here today.”

  Trace turned the full force of his deep mossy eyes on me. “We’re sure. There’s plenty of time to hang out with Ryder . . . and everyone.” His grin made my insides squirm. “I’m Mrs. D’s new Room Dad.”

  Trace

  “You’re . . . what?” Tori’s eyes flew to Mrs. D, who was still getting everyone settled down.

  Something deep inside me loved that I’d surprised her. Hell, I’d surprised myself this morning when I made my impulsive offer. “Yeah. I know,” I agreed with her unspoken sentiment with a laugh.

  “Wow. When did this happen?”

  “Today. I wanted to be more involved with what Ryder was doing at school and when I asked Mrs. Delgado how I might do that, she said she hadn’t had any volunteers for this ultra-awesome position, so I jumped on it.” I jiggled Ryder’s little hand back and forth. “Now I can spend more time with my buddy, right?”

  “Oh.” She glanced down at my son and her face softened. “In that case, you wanna come with me for a while? We can make today’s meeting short so you can get back to your dad.”

  Ryder peered up at me.

  “It’s okay, Ry. I’ve got a few things to do for Mrs. Delgado to keep me busy. I’ll be here when you get back and I’m staying until lunch.”

  Ryder finally agreed and made his way out with sexy Miss Waters, and I’m not ashamed to admit I watched her ass all the way out the door. Then, by some elementary school miracle, I found myself sitting with Tori and Ryder at the lunch table, crowded between giggling little bodies and their sticky messes.

  I chomped down on a carrot stick and studied the woman across from us. She truly was something special. Beautiful? Yes. Sexy? Fuckin’ A. But she was also sweet and c
ute and she cared about my kid, which went a long way in my book.

  She caught my stare and reached up as if to check for food on her chin. “What?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  Her gaze danced around, but no little ears were bothering with us. “Why are you staring?”

  I shrugged and leaned across the table. Her eyes flared as she watched me, frozen in her seat. I paused, searching her face, suddenly wishing, more than anything, that I could kiss her. Instead, I snatched a potato chip from her tray and sat back with a bemused smirk.

  A pretty pink blush stained her cheeks and I decided to give her a break. Shifting to Ry, I ruffled his hair. “So, what do you think, little dude? Am I gonna be a good Room Dad?”

  Ryder stared up at me, his eyes a heartbreaking combo of happiness and wariness. “You’re gonna be here every week?”

  “I’m planning on it. Uncle Blake told me I could take off a half-day once a week to come help out.”

  “Yeah,” Ryder said, focusing his attention back on his pudding cup. “You’re gonna be the best.”

  I sure as fuck hoped so.

  I made it back to the shop still smelling like jelly and never more thankful to be back in my grease pit. Especially after Mrs. D. let me know that next week, she’d be letting me help with the fall decorations. Not putting them up. Making them. That’s cutting and pasting and shit. What had I gotten myself into?

  I strolled in the open bay door and headed toward the Lexus in back. Then I froze when I saw a familiar blond head. “Jesse! You’re back!” I diverted and pounded him on the back, smiling at Blake and Micah, who were perched nearby.

  Jesse grinned. “Hey, bro.”

  “Whatcha doin’, man?”

  He tilted his head toward our friends. “Just shootin’ the shit. Rachel and I got home last night.”

  “How was the honeymoon?”

  “Awesome. Perfect.”

  Blake faked gagging noises, making us laugh.

  “Where’ve you been, dude?” Jesse asked me.

  I shifted my weight and tucked my hands into my front pockets. “Ryder’s school. I’m helping out in his classroom.”