by Gina Kincade
Her eyes find mine. I could get lost in them. Her brows lower as she looks around then walks toward me, stopping a couple of feet away.
“What is the meaning of this?” I shake my head not understanding. She looks around, pointing at various people then back at me. “I was told this was a charity ball in honor of my father. But there is no silent auction, no speaker. This appears to be a Valentine’s party.” Confusion and anger covers her gorgeous face.
“Diana. Please, let me explain,” I begin.
Her head whips my way, her eyes wide. “What? Was this your doing? Tricking me to get me here?” Her voice becomes louder.
Music starts to play, and I see some people heading to the dance floor. “Dance with me. Please.” I hold out my hand. She looks at it as if it might burn her. “You can’t change the past or fix it.” I smile. “But I believe you can create a better future.” Turning, she stares at the door. “Please, Diana,” I whisper. She turns back and places her hand in mine then I escort her to the dance floor. Putting my right arm on her slim waist, she puts her right hand in my left, and we begin moving to the music. She looks everywhere but at me, but I can’t look anywhere but at her. “I read your letter.” Her eyes snap to mine, and she bites her lower lip. Now is not the time to get turned on, but that is so damn sexy. “I don’t know what gave you the idea that by having a very small piece of Nicole would make me not want to be with you anymore.”
“In time, you could feel that small things that I may do or say things that remind you of her.” Sadness washes over her beautiful face.
“In time.” I nod. “So, you’re saying you were planning on being with me for quite a while.” I smile.
She shakes her head. “I mean, over time you might begin to feel as if that small part of Nicole would change me. You had a bad relationship with her, you might think the same would happen with me because I have a small part of her in me.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” I let out a small laugh.
“It’s not funny, Nolan. Your relationship with her hurt you, deeply. What if you end up resenting me?” She looks down, and we stop moving. “I don’t think I could ever get over that.”
Taking her left hand in mine, I get down on one knee. “What if I told you I love you?” She gasps. Everyone on the dance floor stops yet everything around us fades as I only see her. “What if I told you that it’s you that I see. You that I feel when I touch you. You that I hear when you speak. You have a small, very small, piece of someone else—a gift that gave you sight. How could I ever resent you for that?” I watch a tear slide down her cheek. “We met on Valentine’s Day, a day that I hated from my past.” I reach into my suit coat pocket and bring out a small box. Lifting the lid, I hold it up before her. “We may not be able to change things in our past. Let’s create a better future. Together.” She covers her mouth as more tears flow down her face. “For I know in my heart that there’s no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Epilogue
“And son, that’s how your mother and I got together.”
“Is that why Valentine’s Day is such a special day now, Daddy?”
I look down at my four-year-old pride and joy and smile. “Yes, Spencer.”
He looks up at me from the stool he’s sitting on and tilts his head. “But did she say she would marry you?”
I let out a laugh, bend down, pick him up and set him on the counter. Picking up the washed head of lettuce, I start making a salad. “Of course she did. She cried as I placed the diamond ring on her finger, and before I could stand, she kissed me.”
“Ewwww, that’s gross.”
I laugh so hard my ribs begin to ache.
“Daddy!”
Bending down, I grab Elisa and pick her up. “Hi, my little pumpkin. Come, let’s get cleaned up for dinner.”
By the time I get Spencer and Elisa settled in their chairs and food on their plates, the back door opens. I turn, and the breath is knocked out of me. Her hair looks a mess, falling out of her long ponytail, her hands carrying a basket filled with vegetables. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I walk to her, take the basket, and as I lean in to kiss her, I place my free hand on her swollen stomach. “Hello, my love.”
Six years ago on Valentine’s Day, I met a woman who provided me an escape from myself. I danced with the enemy only to learn that I was dancing with the woman who would change my life.
The following year was met with frustration, anger, and torment that turned into realization and forgiveness all due to that same amazing woman.
Five years ago on Valentine’s Day, I asked her to marry me.
I immediately found the perfect home. A half an hour drive away from the city with acreage, a white picket fence, and a huge back yard. She decorated inside as I painted the outside, making it ours.
Three months later we wed. A small intimate wedding with our closest friends and my sister, her husband, and their little girl. My mother refused to attend.
Four years ago on Valentine’s Day, we had our son, Spencer, who we named after her father, and two years ago, our Elisa was born. She is the spitting image of her mother with the temperament of her father.
As I lay in bed, I look down at the woman who gave life three times. To our son and daughter and to me. She gave me my life. She is my life. She looks up at me and smiles. God, she’s beautiful.
“You might want to call Rebecca.” I lower my brows. Why would I want to call our neighbor in the middle of the night? As if reading my mind, she says, “My water just broke.”
I grew up with no father figure. My mother was a pretentious woman who only cared about herself. My only saving grace was my sister. At the age of twenty-eight, I was the youngest to own the largest corporation from my own determination to succeed. My first relationship ended in heartbreak and loneliness causing bitterness to settle in my bones. I punished myself for things that were beyond my control. I never dreamed I’d ever feel love, of any kind.
Then an invitation to a charity masquerade ball on Valentine’s Day changed my life by giving me the happily ever after I now know I deserve.
The End
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About the Author
Best selling Author of Contemporary Romance, Romance Suspense, and Romantic Comedy, Vicki lives in Kansas, spending her time with her husband and two sons. When not writing, she loves dancing with her husband, seeing their friends band, and hanging out at home with her family and furbabies.
All the Teacher’s Valentines
N.J. Adel
4 Flames
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Copyright © 2020 N.J. Adel
All rights reserved.
About All The Teacher's Valentine's
I’ve never had a Valentine’s Day date.
And I’m a twenty-five-year-old virgin.
Laugh at me all you want, but I truly believe I’m cursed. Otherwise why do all my boyfriends break up with me right before Valentine’s Day? Or when it’s time for that third date?
This year is no different, except when I have a meltdown at the mall, screaming to the world how I think I can be very good in bed if someone actually gives me a chance, a man, Kyle, tells me his cousin Zach can help me with my…issue. The only thing I have to do is go on a fake date with Zach to Kyle’s wedding.
I agree, but when I go to his house, I discover Zach is my stud
ent’s hot single parent’s twin. And when I’m snowed in with the three Beastly hunks for the holiday, scorching secrets unravel and threaten to tear us all apart.
Could I finally have my Valentine’s Day date and eventually lose my V-card to one of these three gorgeous men? Or will this holiday leave me more cursed than I’ve ever been?
Chapter One
Keera
“Give me permission to quit now. Or kill me. I don’t care anymore. I just want this misery to end.” Melissa’s voice broke through the quiet in my empty classroom.
I chuckled, adding up the points on a Biology quiz.
“Are you even listening to me, Keera? You look like you’re ignoring me in this time of desperate need. Are you grading something important there? Am I messing up your count? Six, ten, five hundred, seven thousand and twenty-nine…”
Laughing, I wrote the score at the top of the sheet and glanced up. She was leaning back against the frame, forking something green and leafy out of a huge Tupperware container, and looking gloriously frazzled—dress shirt untucked from her pencil skirt, brown tendrils falling out of her French braid, cat-eye glasses perched at the tip of her nose as if pushing them into place would take more strength than she had left.
“Uh…no, you’re not allowed to quit. It’s February.” I reminded her.
“So you know what hell continues till the end of the semester?”
I shook my head, clueless.
“Samantha’s mother’s need to talk after school about her daughter’s grade every time there’s an essay. On the phone.”
“Which Samantha?”
“Beastly,” she said without missing a chew, crunching what smelled like sunflower seeds and kale. “What’s wrong with e-mail? How is anyone of our generation choosing a phone call over e-mail? Even face-to-face is better than a phone call, and I hate people. So if I’d rather be face-to-face, you know it’s bad.”
All teachers hated people, especially parents. The kids were still okay, but parents? Yuck. Except for Brandon Beastly. The twenty-foot tall, recently-single and incredibly sexy dad. “If it was Samantha’s father who wanted to talk, you wouldn’t be complaining.”
“Umm…nope…not even him. He’s too…” She shrugged, crinkling her nose.
Gorgeous. Hot. Dreamy.
“Grumpy. That’s the word. If I’d been married to Samantha’s mother, I’d have been, too. The woman is insufferable. No wonder they didn’t make it.” She scraped up another bite and contemplated the forkful of kale. “Anyway, grumpy or not, I’m totally engaged.”
“Ohhh… Please don’t say the E word in front of me.”
She swallowed her salad and cocked a brow. “Jealous?”
“Yes.”
“Then go get yourself some decent boyfriend.” She walked to my desk and lowered her voice. “Or indecent. It’s probably what you need. You can’t hold on to your V-card forever. You’re twenty-five.”
My cheeks burned out of embarrassment. “Melissa!”
“What? You don’t want me to say the V-word either. How about the other V-word?”
“What’s that?”
“Valentine’s Day? Hello? It’s this weekend. Maybe, if you just get yourself a date, it will finally happen.”
I gathered the quizzes and stacked them, my hands ice cold. “I know when it is, and I had a boyfriend who was supposed to… He broke up with me two weeks before. Same like the one before him, and the one before.” I’d never felt more pathetic.
“Forget about those losers. They must have small dicks or something. You need a real—”
“Can we end this conversation, please?”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But you’re coming with me to the mall today. I haven’t bought Jordan anything for the Valentine’s yet. I want to get that done before it’s too crowded.”
Chapter Two
Keera
I’d always avoided shopping close to this horrible day, but Melissa had to drag me out here. Everywhere, people were buying little gifts for their significant others. They all seemed so happy. The busiest time of the year for chocolate stands, gift and flower shops. Everyone was stocking up, buying gifts for their special someone.
I hadn’t been stocking up on chocolate. Vodka was a different story. Although I didn’t drink, it was about time to start. I was going to need that kind of solace in a couple of days when I was home on Valentine’s Day alone. Again.
My last boyfriend, Steven, had broken up with me a couple of weeks ago, and even though we hadn’t been great together, I would have liked for us to last through the holiday. I’d never had a boyfriend for Valentine’s Day. It sucked.
I cried a little, but I was over it now. It’d happened too many times for me to expect anything different. A sigh escaped me. I was just cursed. Something somebody did generations ago had made it so that I couldn’t have a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, and that nobody wanted to fuck me.
By the chocolate cart where Melissa was checking heart-shaped boxes, a couple walked. She was wearing a red dress that looked too formal for a Thursday but also perfect for her. He was good-looking, laughing at something she said while her arm was tucked into his. The way he looked at her…
A pang set into my chest. I hated that my chest ached when I saw couples like that who seemed so blissfully happy. But I wanted that. Was it so wrong that I wanted the same thing all these happy couples seemed to have?
Just once I wanted to be wearing the red dress. To have someone looking at me like that. We could go dancing. He’d sweep me across the dance floor, and I’d feel my stomach do a little flip-flop as he dipped me backwards. Then we’d kiss. And when the moment came, he wouldn’t back down. He wouldn’t care I was a virgin. He’d be happy to take me to bed and rock my world and care and love and cherish me all at the same time, and everything would be perfect.
I didn’t care what he looked like. It was the feeling that I wanted. In my vision, he was mostly faceless in a dashing tux. Sometimes, he was Brandon Beastly.
The young girl at the cart handed us both a couple of chocolate pieces. I shoved mine into my mouth. Caramel. Not the best. “It’s not my fault, you know?”
Melissa twisted her tongue inside her mouth, savoring her piece. “What’s not your fault?”
“I meet a great guy. We get along, and suddenly when I tell him that I still have my V-card, he freaks out and leaves. I don’t get it. I thought men were supposed to love virgins. Primal instinct and all that. But every one I’ve encountered gets the same stupid look on their faces, and within days, they’re gone.” A surge of anger washed over me, the pitch of my voice getting higher, louder. “It doesn’t make any sense. I know I can be a pretty good time in bed if someone actually gives me a shot.”
Melissa’s eyes wandered around as she bit her lip on a laugh. Only then I realized people were staring, listening to every word I’d just said.
Oh my God. I put a hand on my forehead, cold sweat against my burning skin. Melissa paid the girl quickly and grabbed the chocolate box. When we turned to walk away from the scene I’d just made, I saw a man, smirking at me.
Oh my God! All I wanted to do was run and hide. Suddenly, I was fighting off tears.
“Excuse me, Miss?” A husky male voice called.
Scampering away, I glanced over my shoulder. It was the smirking man. I glared at him and sped up. Melissa tugged my hand, slowing me down. “He’s cute. Go talk to him,” she whispered.
“Are you crazy? After he heard me say what I said? He’s probably one of those psycho killers that sacrifices virgins at some altar.” I whispered back.
“I’ve never done that,” he said, still following us.
Melissa giggled, and she stopped me from running away, nudging me with her elbow.
“I hate you. I hate you so much right now,” I mumbled.
“No, you don’t.” She linked arms with me and spun us around. I barely looked at the guy. All I could see was his navy blue dress pants and Italian shoes.
I glared at the hand and then back at him. My irritation numbed for a second when I took in his face. He had dark green eyes with yellow strikes. His hair midnight black. Tanned skin. Light beard. Mouth… My heart skittered just at the glance of it. In a way he reminded me of Brandon Beastly. Then I noticed his chin dimple. Steve had one of those. It reminded me of how peeved I should be right now. “Sir, if you expect that I would just go out with you and—”
“Not me,” he interrupted, retracting his hand, his smirk never leaving him.
Now, I was embarrassed all over again. Was he one of those pimps that bought and sold virgins to the highest bidders? I’d hit rock bottom.
“I’d have loved to, but I’m getting married on the fifteenth,” he added. “It’s my cousin that needs a date for the wedding. He hasn’t been able to secure one yet. If you can do him that favor, I think he can help you with your…issue.”
My jaw hung low. Then I stared at Melissa in disbelief. “Can we please leave?”
“I promise he’s not a troll or anything. He’s very handsome. If you can come over to his house tonight, you can see for yourself, have a little talk and decide.” He opened his wallet, brought out a pen and card, and scribbled something down. “Here’s the address.”
“No, thanks,” I said before he gave it to me.
Melissa elbowed me again, and he shrugged. “Why not?”
My eyes narrowed at him. “Assuming that this proposition isn’t weird or creepy at all, if your cousin is that good-looking, why are you getting him a date? Why can’t he get one on his own?”
