Remember When (Teach Me Book 3)

by RC Boldt

  Just as Foster opened his mouth, she spoke again. “Vaughn, you want anything from The Java?”

  He wasn’t stupid. “Yes, please.” He pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to her. “Twenty-ounce medium roast with agave, please. And include yours in this.” He flashed her a grateful smile. Because the woman was right. Foster needed a coffee maker worth something in that joint.

  His boss had leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “Would you kindly get me something, too, Miss Davis?”

  “Mmm, I’ll think about it.”

  Miller watched with amusement as the two had a stare down of sorts. And—holy shit—it was Foster who looked away first. He felt his own jaw lower in shock.

  Noelle turned and headed for the door. Just as she had opened it and was about to step through, she tossed over her shoulder, “Go ahead and make out now, boys. Just be sure to take some photos for me.” The door closed behind her and, promptly, a wadded ball of paper hit the door.

  Looking over at Foster with a grin, he said, “I think she likes you.” He felt his grin grow wider. “And she wants us to make out while she’s gone.” Miller pretended like he was getting out of his seat, as if to approach Foster.

  The other man held up his hands. “Don’t you fucking dare. Besides,” Foster’s lips curved up into an evil grin, “you’ve got to keep that love ready for your little Ted. Which reminds me …”

  Miller stared at Foster, waiting.

  “Does Ted know you’ve got a tat with his—or her—initials on your cute, little, itty bitty heart?”

  The next wadded ball of paper thrown was at Foster’s face. Damn fucker.

  He really needed new friends.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “WELL, WE’VE MADE IT THROUGH the first full week of school with the students. Whoop! Whoop!” Laney raised her arms, palms facing up toward the ceiling, as she entered Tate’s classroom Friday afternoon.

  Tate slumped into her chair with a loud exhale. “Dude. I’m so exhausted.” She leaned back with a groan.

  “No sleeping on the job, woman!” Tate raised her head to see Lawson enter her classroom with Zach in tow. “What? Did you not eat your ninety thousand calories today?”

  “Ha, ha.” She rolled her eyes at her friend, eyes falling closed again. “Have you seen Raine and Mac?”

  “Yeah, they were doing it against her desk,” Zach replied without hesitation. Laney snorted. Just then, the door opened again and they all looked up to see their two friends enter. Mac leaned against the counter and cast a glance over all of them.

  “You’ve been talking about us again, right?”

  “Yep,” Zach said.

  “About how we’re probably having sex somewhere?”

  “Yep.”

  “Do you guys not have anyone else to gossip about?”

  “Nope.”

  Mac’s head tilted to the side as he gave Zach a look. “What about you and Laney?”

  Zach had an expression of pure innocence on his face. “What about us? We’re waiting to consummate our love for each other until we get married.”

  Laney turned to stare at her boyfriend. He looked at her and smiled sweetly. “Right, pumpkin?”

  Laney’s eyes narrowed. “You call me pumpkin again and you definitely won’t be getting any for a long, long time.”

  “Easy there, feistypants. You know I kid because I care.” He slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to press a kiss against her temple.

  Tate locked eyes with Lawson and they both made gagging faces. A knock came at the door and Lawson, the closest to it, opened it.

  “Welcome to the cool kids’ club,” he greeted Pearce as he entered.

  “Hey, Pearce! How’d it go?” Tate asked.

  “I think it went well, considering I have a kid in one of my classes who I’m convinced has multiple personalities,” Pearce answered, leaning against the closed door with a tired sigh. “I can’t lie. Pretty sure I won’t make it through the year without alcohol.” He gave a little laugh.

  “Speaking of alcohol, you feel like joining us tonight for a little low-key get together at our place? We’re just going to sit out on the deck, have some drinks, and relax,” Raine offered.

  Tate glanced at her friend in surprise since their group normally did a karaoke outing on Saturdays. “A Friday night get together? What brought this on?”

  “Because I wanted to practice my newfound guitar playing skills with some of the other guys,” Lawson answered. He pretended to brush lint off of his shoulder. “Word on the street is that the ladies go ga-ga over a dude who can play the guitar.”

  “Who else will be there tonight?” Tate asked. As soon as she posed the question, she saw Mac and Raine exchange a look.

  She knew that look. It never meant anything good. It caused a knot to form in the pit of her stomach, because that look meant one thing for certain.

  Miller Vaughn would be there.

  Oh, and they had to play nice because, well, their friends were tired of their insult ridden shenanigans.

  Joy.

  * * *

  “You planning on wearing that, gorgeous?”

  Miller’s head turned in Kane’s direction as he was about to tuck the white polo shirt into his khaki pants before fastening his belt. With a crease between his brows, he asked, “Yeah, why?”

  His roommate leaned against the doorway to Miller’s bedroom. “Wellllll, I just thought you’d choose a blue shirt. You know, since it brings out those pretty eyes of yours.”

  Staring at him like he was crazy, Miller paused, cocked his head to the side, and speaking slowly asked, “You want me to wear a blue shirt because it brings out my eyes?”

  Kane straightened and entered Miller’s room, heading to the closet, sliding hangers over the rod until he pulled out a dark blue polo. Holding it out for him to take, Kane said, “This one’s way better, man.”

  He stared at the shirt Kane was holding out for him before suspiciously turning his gaze to his friend. “Why are you so concerned about the color of my shirt tonight?”

  With wide, innocent eyes, Kane laid a hand over his heart, his southern drawl even more pronounced. “Why wouldn’t I be, darlin’? Because you’re my favorite BFF, that’s why.”

  “Did you really just call me your BFF?” No doubt about it, he smelled shit and it was getting deep. Kane was definitely up to something.

  His friend, who had turned back to the closet to also pull down a hanger with a pair of jeans, scoffed. “Well, you are my BFF, dude. Sheesh. Can’t I give a little man-love to my fave?”

  Man-love? His fave? Oh hell no. His friend was up to something, for sure. And it was big if he were resorting to saying shit like that.

  Miller’s eyes narrowed. “All right, I’ll change shirts. But that’s all—”

  “You should probably wear these darker jeans, too.”

  He stared at his friend who was now setting the clothing on Miller’s bed. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

  “What?” Kane shrugged, the motion stretching his dark brown Henley across his broad chest. “They make your ass look good.”

  Miller stared at him, speechless.

  His friend frowned, a pitying look coming over his face. “Don’t tell me no one’s ever told you that you have a nice ass before, Vaughn. That’s just,” he shook his head, as if saddened by the prospect, “so heartbreaking.”

  “I’m good with the khakis I’m wearing,” he gritted out.

  Kane threw his hands up in exasperation, walking to the doorway of the room. “Fine. Whatever.”

  His friend had just gotten through the doorway before he tossed over his shoulder, “I’m sure Ted and her date tonight won’t care one bit if you wear those khakis that don’t make your ass look as good as those jeans.”

  Fuck. He ran a hand over his face wearily. Why was he even considering changing? Damn Kane for planting those seeds in his brain. He needed a new roommate. And f
riend.

  Yet, he found himself changing his shirt and pants.

  “Fuck you, Kane Windham,” he muttered under his breath.

  Almost immediately, he heard his friend’s voice carry from down the hall, his Texas accent thick as ever. “Love you, too, darlin’.”

  Dear Miller,

  How are things? Probably still super busy, right? Totally not trying to be a bother but if you get a chance to write back or call, you have no idea how awesome that would be. I mean, come on. You’re going to be a badass Navy SEAL soon, right?

  God, I really miss you. I thought of you today when that old Spice Girls song came on the radio. Remember how we’d sing that song at the top of our lungs in your car? I love being a dork with you. I just love being with you, period.

  I love you so much. I have to cut this short because I’m a bit behind on studying for this exam in the stupid Art Appreciation class I’m taking. I love art, don’t get me wrong, but this class is ridiculous. When will I ever have to know what time period a certain artist’s work was completed? Um, try never.

  Cassie says hi, by the way.

  Gotta run. I love you so much and I’m so proud of you. I can’t wait to hear back from you.

  Remember, you’re it for me, too. Always.

  I love you.

  Tate

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “ARE YOU … GOING TO DO your hair a little different tonight?” The question caught Tate off guard. Self-consciously smoothing a hand over her blonde hair, she looked over at Raine.

  “Why?” she asked cautiously. “Is there something wrong with it?” She had been growing it longer from how she’d previously worn it in a short, angular bob hairstyle, but she didn’t think it looked that bad.

  “No, there’s nothing wrong with it. I just thought maybe Laney and I could play around with your hair and style it tonight, that’s all.” Her friend shrugged nonchalantly. Or what Raine had hoped would be nonchalantly. Tate continued to stare at her friend, knowing that the other woman had absolutely no poker face and was a terrible liar. It took less than five seconds before she caved.

  Raine threw her hands up in exasperation. “Fine! I just want you to look even more smokin’ hot than normal because Miller will be here tonight.”

  Tate turned to set her gaze on Laney, who shrugged. “It can’t hurt, right?” She smiled and sang out, “Plus, Pearce will be here tonight.”

  Tate felt her mouth drop open. “Seriously, Laney?” Laney was horrible at setting people up. Raine had fallen prey to her matchmaking and had experienced the full-on heinousness of it. She looked over at Raine in dismay. “How could you let her do this? You, of all people?”

  Raine held up a hand. “Hold on. I know what you’re thinking but he’s actually a pretty cool guy. Mac’s gotten to know him and agrees.”

  Laney tipped her head to the side thoughtfully. “I think he’s kind of hot. In a Superman kind of way.”

  “Ooh! You’re right,” Raine nodded. “I was trying to think of who he reminded me of.”

  Tate closed her eyes with a groan, rubbing her temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. Quietly, with more calmness than she thought she had, she replied, “Then you both can date him if you think he’s so hot.”

  The silence lasted so long that Tate finally opened her eyes. Raine had a sympathetic expression on her face. “We just think he’d be a good friend. And if it turned into something more, then so be it. He seems a little on the quiet side, so maybe he just needs some encouragement to come out of his shell.”

  Looking between the two of them, she mumbled, “Fine.”

  Raine gave a little jump, clasping her hands together excitedly. “Yay! Now, let’s do something with your hair!”

  Twenty minutes later, she was permitted to look in the mirror. She had been subjected to not only hair but makeup as well. Tate couldn’t really complain since it also meant she got her two best friends to herself, minus their significant others. Not that she didn’t adore the guys—she did—but it wasn’t the same as having ‘girl time’, just the three of them.

  Tate stood from where she had been perched on the lid of the toilet, turning to face her reflection in the mirror. And promptly stopped dead in her tracks.

  She felt like someone had kicked her in the solar plexus. Her shoulder-length blonde hair had been curled into a wispy Farrah Fawcett style. Her makeup was modest and simple. But that wasn’t what was making it hard for her to breathe. It was because she recalled a specific photograph of a woman who had nearly the same hairstyle and features. The same picture in one of the photo albums in the back of her closet at home.

  Right then, gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she felt as if her mother were staring back at her.

  Raine’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Oh, God. You hate it? I’m so sorry, Tate.”

  “No … I don’t hate it,” she spoke slowly, as if in a daze. “It’s fine.”

  She saw her friends exchange a look. It wasn’t their fault. They had no way of knowing. It wasn’t like she brought out the old photo albums and showed people. Because, her parents were still in Ohio.

  She didn’t talk about them with anyone. Well, okay. There was that one time with Momma K. when she had returned a leftovers container to Laney and Foster’s mother. It had been November twelfth and she had felt so … raw, and ended up spilling her guts to the older woman. Aside from that, she didn’t like to bring it up because, well, she hated the whole pitying thing. It was simple: her parents were out of the picture and she left it at that.

  Forcing a smile, she met her friends’ eyes in the mirror. “Thanks. I appreciate you trying to beautify me.”

  The two women slung an arm around her. “It was our pleasure trying to pretty up this mug of yours,” Laney teased.

  Raine winked at her. “You look beautiful, sweetie. Then again, you always do.”

  “You ladies ready to give me my bathroom back? A man’s got to beautify, too, you know,” Mac called out.

  Laney laughed as she exited the bathroom and into the bedroom. “Right. Gotta polish that dimple of yours so you can be extra swoon-worthy, right?

  “Of course. How else am I supposed to keep my wife under my spell?”

  Raine rolled her eyes before she leaned close, grasped Tate’s hand, and whispered, “You look amazing, Tate.”

  She smiled. “Ready to give the bathroom over to your husband and his dimple?”

  “Roger that.”

  She gave a little laugh at Raine’s response as they stepped into the master bedroom where Mac was waiting. “Did you hear that, Mackenzie? You’ve got your wife using military terms, now?”

  He smiled, that trademark dimple winking at them, wrapping his arms around his wife before pulling her close. “Makes me all hot and gooey.”

  “Gag me,” Laney’s voice called out from down the hall.

  Laughing, Tate agreed, “Gag me, indeed.” She exited the bedroom, leaving the couple to their embrace.

  And, not for the first time, she wished her parents were there to meet her friends—her makeshift family—and witness the continuous banter and laughs. Because they would be sure to notice the key, underlying element to it all, which was what she was always ever so grateful for.

  The love.

  * * *

  “Hey, man,” Mac greeted them, shaking hands with Miller and Kane when they stepped into the beach house which overlooked the Atlantic Ocean, toting their hard guitar cases. “Beers are in the fridge. The food and everyone else are out back on the deck.” Mac gestured to the covered bowl in Miller’s other hand. “You can set that out if it’s ready to roll.”

  “Yeah, man. It’s just the potato salad I made.”

  Kane leaned in. “Onion-free potato salad. And he made it from scratch. For reals, y’all. If that doesn’t make you all warm and fuzzy inside, well, I don’t know what will.” Kane had slipped past them, leaving himself and Mac shaking their heads with a chuckle. Just as he was about to
pass by Mac, the hand the man laid on his shoulder gave him pause. Looking over, he raised his eyebrows in question.

  A serious expression upon his face, Mac lowered his voice. “For my wife’s sake, I need you to play nice tonight. Please.”

  Meaning: Don’t get into a pissing match with Tate. Again.

  He nodded. “Roger that.”

  A relieved look came across Mac’s face, the dimple all the ladies swooned over making its appearance. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  “She threatened no sex unless you said something, right?”

  Mac’s sheepish smile was a clear answer. “Yeah, but …” He paused before leaning in, lowering his voice. “I honestly doubt she could’ve held out on me.” Mac winked, flashing a cocky grin.

  Miller looked past Mac’s shoulder before returning his gaze to his friend, eyes crinkling with humor.

  “She’s right behind me, isn’t she?”

  Rolling his lips inward to try and cover his smile, Miller answered, “Yep.”

  “She seem pissed?”

  Miller took another look before he replied, “Nah. You should probably sweet talk her and wear her ‘Are you my bad girl?’ sleep mask tonight, though.”

  “What?! Laney! You need to stop spreading that damn story …” Raine’s voice trailed off, turning abruptly to head off in search of her friend.

  “Nice save, man,” Mac said, appearing impressed.

  “That story’s a classic, anyway,” he remarked with a laugh as the two of them walked through the house.

  A while back, Laney had gotten Raine two embroidered sleep masks as a combination of joke and reminder of a guy she’d dated who had smacked her ass “painfully hard” and asked her if she was his “bad girl”. Raine was still mortified about the exchange. Clearly.

  Mac opened the sliding glass door to the outer decks and, after Miller had stepped through, closed it behind them. There was a rectangular table with various dishes laid out. After placing his bowl of potato salad on it, he went to greet the other guys. He hadn’t seen the ladies yet, had only seen Raine briefly before she had gone in search of Laney, so he figured he might as well try and relax, get himself under control before he saw Tate.