by Nicole Snow
It feels so fucking good. So right. So taboo it makes me sweat.
I dip forward, the sound of her sigh echoing around me, before I catch myself.
Fuck.
Trouble is, this isn’t right. The only reason I’m here is to keep some psycho from hurting her. One far worse than that prick, Preston. Bastard Phil won’t stop at just scaring her, begging for another date.
I take a step backward, pretending I don’t see disappointment in her eyes. Like I don’t feel it either. Disoriented inside and out, I ask, “Which way to the zebras?”
“Right over there.”
I don’t look at her. The dryness of her tone says more than words.
“Next to the tigers. Bears are on the other side.”
“You know this place well.” I stick my hands in my pockets as we start walking, needing to put a bit of distance between us. There’s too much at stake for me to lose focus now.
“Well, I should.” She sighs. “I’ve come here once a month like clockwork for as long as I can remember.”
“Izzy!” Cleo waves a frantic hand. “Izzy, Izzy, come here right this second!”
I glance around, and thankfully, don’t see another wedding party. Cleo Derby's none too subtle in her awkward hints. She's holding something.
It’s not until we arrive and she shoves it at Blue that I realize it’s a cell phone in a flowery case.
“It’s Megan!” Cleo yips. “She's finally getting married in two weeks. In Flagstaff!” She pats Blue’s arm. “Oh, darling, isn’t this just perfect timing? You’ll have a date for this one. Won’t have to go stag like you did all your other cousins’ weddings.”
I watch Blue’s face go from pale to red, and I sense the pressure she’s under. The embarrassment, too.
“Don’t worry, Brent,” Cleo says. “You’ll have a delightful time, and so will little Natalie!”
“Flagstaff?” Natalie says. “Daddy, we can stay at the ranch. We haven’t been in so long. Please, Daddy, please say we'll go!”
I'm cornered. Goddamn.
The dread and sorrow on Blue’s face as she glances up at me tugs at something inside me demanding attention. Can’t dismiss it any more than I can the urge to protect her from Preston and the Pearls.
“You're in luck, baby girl. We'll go.”
While Cleo and Natalie squeal and hug, Blue hangs her head. I'm not sure whether she's shocked numb by my quick agreement, or still tangled up in shame.
Grabbing her hand, I don't say anything. Just nod. That wipes the worst of it off her face, and soon, we're walking again.
They say timing's everything. It's never been truer in my life. It's damn sure never fallen into my lap so easily and obviously.
I’ve needed the perfect excuse to hit the ranch. To finish the scheme there I've started.
One that'll take the Black Pearls down once and for all.
7
Flirting With Disaster (Izzy)
I can’t help but watch the clock.
I’ve never done that before. Not during art class. The students are busy working with oil pastels. It’s free form, whatever they'd like to create. Mainly because I was too out of it to come up with a fresh sample for them last night.
Been out of sorts since Saturday. After mother’s nuclear bomb announcement of Megan’s wedding, and Brent’s attendance shocker, my mind has been mush. Pulverized.
The hundred plus text messages from mom hasn’t helped either. I hope – no – I pray, beg, and plead she'll hold true to the promise she made Brent and hasn't told Clara anything.
Any. Thing.
My cousin has called, as usual, jabbering a mile a minute about Megan’s wedding details. How they had to move the date up because her fiancé has an internship in Alaska. He’s studying to be a doctor, apparently – one more fucking thing I have to contend with – so they’ll be moving to Alaska right after the wedding. Cash-only gifts.
Fucking-A.
Fortunately, the only thing Clara worries about for now is the frosting melting on the wedding cake she’s baking because it’s an outdoor wedding. In Arizona.
Good thing wedding cakes are mostly for show.
I should be thankful for the distraction. With all this going down, she hasn’t had time to obsess over who is or isn’t attending.
She hasn’t mentioned the zoo, either. Fingers crossed it stays that way, and mom doesn't slip a peep about my date.
After the zoo, we’d gone out to eat together. Twice in one day.
That’s when Brent told mother that we had to keep our friendship under wraps because of Nat and my job. I wasn’t there. I'd helped Natalie to the restroom with an upset tummy and gave her some Pepto, so I don’t know exactly what was said.
Worse, I haven’t even seen him since he dropped me off that evening.
Maybe that's why I can’t peel my eyes off the clock. He should arrive shortly to pick up Nat.
I've thought long and hard. It's time.
I’m going to insist we end this sham. Before it does more damage. There’s no reason – none – for him to go to Flagstaff.
Mother may have made it sound like I’m perpetually dateless, and maybe so, but bottom line is, so what?
This thing between us – this jaunt through Heaven and hell – it's a burden. I've lived my whole life without dreaming of some gorgeous man charging into my life and promising me happily ever after.
That’s mom. Not Isabella Derby. She’s the one who reads a dozen wild romance novels every month.
The familiar click of the door opening has me glancing up.
Brent.
Here we go again.
I could brace myself a thousand times, and it still couldn't stop the instant reaction in my blood. My pulse kicks higher, some kind of crazy flutter mode.
He's really hero material. Like something out of those dirty books with his chiseled looks, inviting scruff, and screaming green eyes. I'll admit it: sometimes I read the novels mother sends home with me.
The ones with shirtless hunks and women who are halfway unraveled hanging on their arms. Brent Eden may be the spitting image of a cover model – possibly the world's hottest – but damn.
This is no romance. And I'm no damsel in distress.
I'm a grown woman who got in too deep, who let her fantasies off their chain, and who desperately needs to end this sweet chaos before it ruins everything.
He shuts the door quietly, but rather than staying at the back of the room, he heads forward. Straight for me. Tension shoots up my neck as his eyes capture mine in an ornery glare.
What the hell now? What has his badass attitude flaring today? I’ve already told him I see right through it.
Unless...
Crap!
Clara must have called him. Again.
He arrives at my desk around the same time I decide that’s just as well. If he's annoyed, sick of this, exhausted with me, then maybe it'll be easier. This whole thing ends in the next half hour.
“Where’s your car?” His voice is hushed, but harsh. “I drove around the entire building and didn't see it.”
That gets my attention.
Then I remember why he didn't spot it. With everything else going on, I’d forgotten the bad news for a short while. “It wouldn’t start,” I tell him. “Had to get a ride.”
He puts both hands on my desk and leans closer. “It was here this afternoon, Blue. When I picked Nat up from school.”
I sit back, not impressed by his attitude, even if the growl in his voice touches something primal deep inside me. I shake my head. “So? It started just fine then, but when it was time to come back for class, it wouldn’t start.”
“How’d you get here?”
This is nuts. I can't imagine why he cares.
Giving a half-snort, I point to my cellphone. “Uber. Duh. What else?”
“Uber?” He chokes off a curse. “You've gotta be more careful, babe. You don’t know who those people are. Could be anyone. Why didn’t you call?”
Resisting the urge to bite my lip, I stare through him instead. This isn't happening.
I'm not about to say I considered it. Even though I did.
Right before I called him an asshole for putting a curse on my car last week by saying it could breakdown anytime. It finally did. And with everything else I've put up with from this man, a girl's entitled to be slightly superstitious.
Pushing away from the desk, I stand. “Why would I call you? I'm not helpless. You just keep thinking I am.” Before he can respond, I address the class. “Ten more minutes!”
Knowing how quick he is, I dodge around him, and spend the next ten minutes drifting from student to student. So far, nothing's happening like I planned, and the last thing we need is a scene in front of the kids on top of it. He'll have to cool his heels until class finishes.
He’s still standing next to the desk when it’s dismissal time. A pissed off wall of muscle.
God. For the first time I wonder if his badassery isn’t so much for show as it is a revival of sorts.
A throwback to the time he'd been a hardcore rebel? Or his army days?
Whether by choice or circumstance, and though his life is far tamer now, the aggression was so instilled in him, he can’t stop it taking hold.
The students wrap up and I make a few brief closing remarks. I feel bad watching them shuffle out the door. It's the first night I haven't given this my all, no thanks to the frustrated beast stewing in the corner.
This can't keep happening.
Soon, Natalie's the only student left. I have no choice but to return to my desk and pack up my things. Doesn't mean I have to say a word to Mr. Broody. I tap my phone's screen a few times and lay it down, summoning a ride. It'll take at least ten minutes for someone to get here with the academy being tucked back on slower roads.
I don't say anything to Brent.
Until he speaks.
“I’m giving you a ride home, Izzy. I canceled your Uber.”
The transformation inside me is instant. From just annoyed to psycho-bitch mad.
“You...what?” I rip my phone from his hand and fight to keep quiet enough so Natalie can’t hear.
Sure enough, my ride's canceled. Before the penalty fee even hit. I didn't even see him do it.
He. Can't. Keep. Getting. Away. With. This.
“Eden...just who the fuck do you think you are? Jesus!” I've spent hours of my life with this man and I still don't have a clue. “Look, you might be able to keep your daughter in arm’s reach at all times, but that doesn't extend to me. You've got no freaking right to even attempt it.” My wrists tremble as hot blood pumps through them.
If this man had a season, he'd be Phoenix, high summer. Always.
He's staring, his green eyes weapons, not temptations this time around. The tiger glare says he’s beyond pissed. So does the strength in the hand that takes my wrist. It's amazing how swiftly he can do it without actually hurting me.
I really don’t give a damn. “Let. Go.” I seethe.
He doesn’t release me, but his hold eases. “Okay. Whether you hold my hand or not, it won’t change the fact you’re riding home with us.”
“I’m not!” I hiss. To prove my point, I add, “I’ve told you before I won’t lose my job over you. Over this. You're making it too hard. Now, please, let go before I –”
“What? Scream? By the time Oscar walks into this room, you’ll be so tongue-tied on my mouth you won’t even know he's here.” His lips part ever-so-slightly, warm and feral and weirdly inviting.
Insane. That's what this is.
“You wouldn’t dare?” I hate how it comes out a question.
He steps closer, his lips barely an inch from mine. I was hot and bothered before, and now it's getting worse for very different reasons. “You know damn well I would. Haven't stopped thinking how good you tasted since the first night you said more than 'hello.' How bad you wanted it last weekend, Blue. Fuck, how bad I needed it.”
My eyelids flutter.
I officially hate him. And I hate wanting him ten times more.
His breath mingles with mine, stirring something hot and carnal inside me. Just like at the zoo, when I thought he was going to kiss me.
It's a deep, physical ache. A self-destructive want.
A need to have his body on mine so intense it's every insanity known to man.
Tonight, it's even worse. I wanted it then, Saturday, but I need it now. Need, like he said.
Even though I’m furious.
He dips his chin. His bristles barely graze my cheek. They're softer than expected. More delightful, too.
My breath catches in my throat.
“I dare, Isabella Derby. Dare to tell Nat she can squawk to the whole world we went to the zoo together. That you’ve been to our house for supper. That you've been on my goddamn mind like a wet dream stuck on repeat. Morning, noon, and night.”
Holy hell.
Forget insane. This is suicidal. Every last bit of it.
The consequences of anyone hearing about us hits me like a water balloon. His touch becomes kryptonite.
I snap my head backwards so fast I nearly lose my balance. My feet hit the chair. The harder I try to keep from falling, the harder it is not to. My near tumble couldn’t have lasted more than a second or two.
Time is no match for him.
Before I can even blink, Brent has my arm and he's grabbed my waist with his other hand, keeping me upright. I’m breathing like I just ran a marathon.
A second later, I realize exactly what part of his body presses against my stomach. Oh, hell!
I push at his chest, flailing with my free arm. “Was this your goal since the beginning? Getting me fired?”
“No.” He releases my waist and takes a step back before dropping my wrist. “I just want you to see the danger, taking rides from strangers.”
Ridiculous. I shove everything into my bag. “In case you don’t know, I teach preschool, Brent. Stranger-danger's a key part of the lesson plan.”
He grabs my sketchpad. “Then you need to practice what you preach.” Turning, he says to Natalie, “Ready, baby girl? We have to give Ms. Derby a ride home tonight. Her car's out of commission.”
“Awesome!”
Seriously, what did I ever do? To deserve all this?
I sneer at the grin he flashes my way, but then smile at Nat. Guilt hits like a brick.
It's the same feeling that whacked me yesterday at lunch, when she’d snuck a subtle wave my way after looking to make sure no one was watching. She shouldn’t have to keep any secrets. Or worry whether or not she'll look like a teacher's pet.
One more reason to stop this sham. ASAP.
Only, that seems impossible tonight.
The ride to my place is tense. The air seems electric in the front seat. If Natalie senses anything, she’s very good at hiding it, chattering away about tonight's oil pastels.
As soon as he pulls into my building's lot, I tell him he can park out front, but of course he doesn’t. Instead, he drives around the side, insisting he’s looking at my car before leaving.
Apparently, mechanical precision is another one of his many talents.
He quickly determines the starter needs to be replaced, and soon a tow truck arrives to haul my Mustang to the shop.
I don't say much. I'm too strung up on how hard it is to get rid of him when he keeps saving my ass.
Also, because I'm not about to ignite another argument in front of Nat.
Also, also, because it'd be more than another argument. We're a few choice words away from a dynamite explosion.
I wish it ended there.
A pickup with his company name on the side pulls into my parking spot as soon as the Mustang disappears. He says it's mine to borrow tomorrow.
Screw it. I can't hold my tongue.
“You really are trying to get me fired, aren’t you?”
“Wrong, Blue.” He takes the keys from the man who climbs out and holds them to me. “It's
not a favor. You either drive that, or I’ll drive you to and from school, just like I do Natalie. Your choice.”
Some choice.
So ready for this day to be over, I throw up my hands. “Whatever. You win. I’ll drive the damn truck.”
Grabbing the keys, I tell Nat goodnight and make my escape.
Later at home, try as I might, sleep won't come. Predictable.
It wasn’t the fear of someone at school noticing what I drove, or Megan’s wedding, or even his caveman attitude that keeps me awake.
It's how frightfully close he came to kissing me.
How badly I wanted that to happen.
How badly I still want it.
Want it. Against every warning and shred of common sense and decency. Against everything I think I am.
Another day blurs by. I'm driving his loaner truck home after a day of finger painting, cutting enough apple slices to feed an army of fifteen four year olds, and singing about tiny spiders and big mouthed frogs.
Paradise. It'll be years before I work my way up to teaching art full time for the older kids, but it's a nice start. It's hardly the reason I'm bothered, impatiently clicking my nails against the steering wheel.
My lips still quiver every time Brent Eden invades my mind.
I need to get over this. Really.
And I need to find a way to get him to back out of Megan’s wedding. I don’t trust myself in close proximity with him. It's no good. I've only seen what happens a dozen times.
I'm no good in close range with this beast of a man.
Not now, not next week, not ever.
My Mustang sits in my parking space when I pull around my apartment building. I park the truck next to the dumpster as a man climbs out of my car.
It’s the employee from last night. Juan, I think. His friendly smile brightens his brown eyes. Knowing it was his cousin’s shop my car was towed to, I open the door. “Sorry for the wait! Didn’t expect it done so soon. If you tell me how much I owe, I’ll cut you a check right now.”
He hands me the keys. “You'll have to settle that up with the boss. It's on his tab, I think. I’m just the delivery guy this time.” He winks.
Shit. I don’t want to settle anything with his boss, yet can’t hold that against him.
