by Liv Morris
Now Coop’s whole body is turned to me. We’re staring at each other. Deadlocked. Each of us standing as still as soldiers guarding Big Ben. I forget that there are others in the room until I hear Mr. Reynolds coughing slightly to get our attention.
“Hello, Ms. Montgomery,” Mr. Reynolds says breaking the spell between Coop and me. He walks to me and shakes my hand. “Great to have you here with us and on such short notice. I’d like to introduce you to our new assistant football coach, Coach Andrew Cooper. He goes by Coop.”
I take Coop’s outstretched hand into mine. He does more than shake it. He presses his fingers a little too firmly around mine. Then he holds my hand in his tight grip a little longer than is proper. We each mumble a, “Hello, nice to meet you.”
He releases my hand and his fingers slowly trail the length of mine as he pulls away. All I can think about is what those fingers did to me in his bed. How they pleasured me. A rush of heat floods over me at the memory. I’m betting my face has turned a fire engine red too, betraying my thoughts.
“Please have a seat, you two, and welcome again. I’m very glad to have you both here. Our newest additions to Peachtree.”
“Thank you,” we both say at the same time. I give Coop a nervous glance.
Somewhere from deep down inside, I force my legs to move. They bring me just inches away from Coop as I sit down. Mr. Reynolds and Coop follow my lead and sit down too. Pure southern gentlemen waiting to take a seat until the lady sits down first.
My eyes are turned toward Mr. Reynolds but I can feel Coop’s hot gaze on me. I move my head slightly to catch his face and see his expression. It’s more of a glare. An unhappy one. He’s pissed, angry. His nostrils are even a little flared.
My uneasiness makes me fidget and shift in my seat. I nervously wring my hands in my lap, looking anywhere but Coop’s direction. But I can feel his anger directed toward me. It burns my skin. But I can’t figure out why he’s so pissed off at me. I swing my hair to cover the side of my face that’s facing him. It serves as a wall of protection. However, body armor might be better right now.
“Cecilia Barnes, the parent who was going to be the master of ceremonies at Saturday’s event, wants me to thank you for helping her out. She’s also the event chair but has delegated her organizing work to other parents. So, simply put, we need you two to show up a little early and run the event from a microphone. Encourage people to open their wallets if you know what I mean.”
“I’ve done this for charities many times. Mostly for the Children’s Hospital here in Atlanta. It’s all about trust. Having people believe what you tell them,” Coop says passionately.
I know his last words are directed at me. Literally. He looked right at me as he spoke them. Shit. I just need to make it through this meeting and Saturday night’s event. I’ll be fine after that. How often will I see him once school starts? Art teachers and coaches don’t usually cross paths. Thank God.
Mr. Reynolds instructs us on the whereabouts of Saturday’s fundraiser. Since it’s held off campus at a hotel and not a school-sanctioned function per se, alcohol will be served, a fact that leaves me feeling pretty damn happy. I’ll need a few drinks to get through an event where Coop and I are working together.
Though too much drinking likely landed me in Coop’s bed in the first place. I’ll just have to pace myself Saturday night and institute a two-drink, two-foot rule. I can’t get too buzzed or too close to him. He’s rather lethal to me. I glance over and scan his profile. Yep, he’s very deadly. Damn, his sexiness. I swear it streams off of his body and creates a puddle in my panties. I lean as far away from him as I can, my body practically half over the arm of my seat and anymore leaning will have the chair tipping over.
“I know you’re an old hat at this, Coop. You’ll have to show Ms. Montgomery the ropes. Teach her how to get everyone excited about a cause and willing to donate to it.” Sadly, Mr. Reynolds doesn’t realize that Coop has already shown me his “rope.”
“Getting people excited and willing to donate is something I’m good at. ” Coop’s tone is sarcastic. And yes, he says these comments right to my face. Looking down at me with anger in his eyes. I shiver, but not from fear. Damn, my traitorous body.
Mr. Reynolds finally starts bringing this meeting from hell to an end. I’m close to bolting from the room, claiming I feel sick. It really isn’t a lie. Priscilla made me eat a bagel and cream cheese this morning and it isn’t sitting well on my stomach.
“You two have all the information you need, I believe.” Mr. Reynolds hands us each a sheet of paper. “I’ve taken the liberty of putting your contact information on here. Phone numbers, emails, etcetera. The street address of the hotel, along with the details of the people helping run the event. I think you two are all set.”
“Thank you, sir,” I respond. I’ve been mute throughout the meeting afraid to utter a word just letting the men do all the talking. A sweet little southern wallflower who was soundly plucked by the man sitting next to her. I didn’t know what to say, preferring to just recoil in my chair.
“You have a passion for the arts, Ms. Montgomery. Coop has one for football. I’d like to see you two combine your passions. Bring them together.” I lower my head, beyond mortified by these words, while Coop coughs or chokes. I’m not really sure. But I’m not daring enough to look his way. “I’ll let you two get acquainted. I have a meeting with the math department in a few minutes. Thanks for helping us out in a pinch.”
Did Mr. Reynolds just say that? Combine our passions? Shit, I hate to break the news to him but we’re long past that point. Passions shared, spent and still being replayed over and over in my mind.
We all rise out of our seats. I quickly shake Mr. Reynolds’ hand and thank him for the opportunity to teach at Peachtree. Then I turn to leave his office in double time completely ignoring Coop, stepping past Mrs. Peterson without a glance in her direction. I just want the hell out of there. I don’t feel like I can breathe. As I break free and make it past the front doors, I hit the warm, summer Atlanta air then break into a run and head to my car.
Over my heartbeat pounding in my head, I hear someone calling my name behind me. Shouting it. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know who it is. But as I said before, I’m a major chicken shit. I don’t do confrontations. Not my kind of thing. Southern breeding perhaps? Grin and bear it. Suck it up and take it. Not the best philosophies but it’s who I am at heart.
I’m digging around in my purse for my keys as I continue to run away from the voice that’s calling my name. Getting closer to my car, I now can hear his feet hitting against the pavement behind me.
My keys are out and ready as I try with shaky hands to unlock the car, but a hand grabs my arm and spins me around. And I’m met with the one and only Coop. He’s mad, fuming, and hot as hell. His blazing eyes are leaving me breathless. I lean against the door of my car. I need help standing up. Being this close to him has a horrible effect on my knees. They’ve become Jell-O.
“Well, if it isn’t Millie?” There’s no way to miss the disdain in his voice. “Ms. Love ‘Em and Leave ‘Em, herself.”
Crap. I want a quick comeback, but what can I say? His words are completely true. There’s no way around them, so I decide to barrel right through them instead.
“That’s right. You know me. Hook-up queen.”
“It would appear so. So you got the teaching job after all.”
“Yes, I did. And you found one too, it looks like. Slumming with the regular folks now.” I match the tone of his voice. Passionate disgust. But I’m really dying inside and just want to leave before I pass out from being so close to him. His scent is driving me wild, making me want to kneel before him and do bad, bad things.
“I can’t believe you. After spending all afternoon with me. Great sex with no complaints, right?” Oh shit, he had to bring it up. The sex part. “You leave me without a single word. Not even a note saying, ‘Thanks for the fuck.’”
“I don’
t want to talk about this right now.” I need distance or I’m going to be all over him, tearing his clothes off in the parking lot. It’s one or the other. So I shake his hands off my arm and turn around toward my car. I opt for the choice that won’t get me arrested or fired.
“Right. Run away, little girl. You’re apparently great at that.” I cringe at his comments, but finally get my door unlocked. Damn, I hate my car. It’s so old and cheap that it doesn’t even have automatic doors. “If I didn’t care so much about the football team and the support of the booster club, I’d move hell or high water to get out of Saturday night.”
“Well, I’ll be praying for both. Hell and high water.” I open my door and slam it behind me. After getting my old bucket of bolts started, I peel out of the parking lot not even peeking at the rearview mirror.
When I’m two blocks away from school, I pull into a store parking lot and stop. Leaning my head on the hard plastic of my steering wheel, the tears I’d been holding back start pouring out. Ugly crying again, like I just finished watching The Way We Were or Old Yeller. It’s that bad. In my haze of tears, I reach for my phone and dial Priscilla.
“How did it go with Coop?”
“I—” is the only word that escapes through my tears. Priscilla knows that I’m a mess and does the talking, thank goodness.
“Come on back to the apartment. I’ll have a batch of brownies in the oven when you get here. It’s going to be okay, Millie. I promise.”
I mutter an unintelligible word back to her and hang up. I find the monogrammed handkerchief I carry around in my purse. Southern women tend to have one floating around them at all times; a scarce artifact, but when you need a hankie, there is no substitute. I wipe off my face and blow my nose. Somehow, I make it back to Priscilla’s apartment for round two of, “How to forget Coop” chocolate therapy.
Chapter 9
Over the last two days, Coop emails me a few times about the Casino Night. Every email has someone else co-copied in the exchange. Nothing out of the ordinary is said by him. Just logistics about the evening and our responsibilities. He completely ignores me. Never talks to me directly. More like he’s talking over me or patting me on the head like a small errant child. Okay, I admit he’s the celebrity, but we were supposed to be working on this together.
So since he’s ignoring me, I decide to return the favor and say nothing in response. Mature, right? Since my sob fest on Thursday, my feelings for him have definitely evolved from timidity to something closer to rage.
Now he’s just pissing me off. Treating me with no regard. I’m as mad as a New Jersey Real Housewife. Even felt like flipping a table today at Starbucks when I read his latest email to me.
Coop asked if someone on the fundraising committee would write up small note cards with the lines I needed to read in front of everyone. He thought I might crack under the pressure of having all the eyes on me. Okay, maybe he’s totally right, I hate speaking to crowds, but he’s being a royal jerk about it. It was like I wasn’t even on the email chain. Shouldn’t he have asked me first? I’m so mad right now I could punch him.
Sadly, if I didn’t have to emcee this event with Coop, I’d be excited. It actually looks like a lot of fun. A makeshift casino is being put together, people will pay money for the poker chips and use them to play everything from roulette to blackjack, but no one wins cash prizes. Instead, winners take home items donated by local businesses. The biggest winner of the night gets a week stay at a lovely condo in Destin, Florida. Not bad for a high school fundraiser.
Priscilla prepares me for the evening. I borrow everything from her except underwear. She’s assembled my wardrobe—black three-inch heels, a fitted black pencil skirt and a red blouse with short sleeves. My outfit screams career girl. She wanted me to have an air of authority, build up my confidence, perhaps.
Priscilla drives me to the hotel where the event is being held. I climb out of the car in front of the hotel and speak to her through the open door.
“Thanks, Priscilla. I’ll see you back here in thirty minutes, right?”
“It might be closer to an hour. I’m picking up two other girls and one of them is notorious for being late. But an hour, tops.”
“See you.” I shut the car door and make my way inside to the hotel’s lobby. There are official signs pointing the way to the event in Ballroom A. Stopping just outside the door to the ballroom, I pull out my compact and check my lipstick and hair. Everything appears to be okay so I walk right through the open door.
My feet stop and so does my heart when I see Coop. Damn him. He’s wearing a charcoal gray suit with pinstripes. Quite the change from the casual attire I’ve always seen him in. He looks as sexy as hell. Polished and authoritative. Dare I even say dominating?
My mind starts to wander back to a bedroom in a gated community with beautiful streams of light peeking in through wood slats. Dangerous thoughts that have to be controlled. I see the bar to the side of the room and make a beeline toward it. A drink in hand is needed before I come face to face with Coop.
I order my standard vodka tonic, but not after being carded. Really? I’m a damn teacher here. Once I have my lifeline sitting in my hand, I start walking toward Coop. He sees me coming and I don’t care one bit for that scowl on his face. I decide to finish my drink on my way to him. I give a fleeting thought to turning around for another cocktail, perhaps a shot, something quick acting. But I press on. No turning back now.
“Well, good evening, Ms. Montgomery. I see you found a familiar friend.” He says this while pointing to my glass. What an asshole. Really? The nerve.
“At least this friend knows how to make a woman feel good.” Boom and burn. Yeah, that left him a little shocked. What is the football term? Touchdown for Millie.
“Nice, nice. But I’m pretty sure those two orgasms I gave you felt better than whatever you’re drinking,” he continues, smirky smile and all. “Unless that drink makes you scream, ‘Oh, my, God.’”
“How dare you!” I have a notion to throw the drink in his face but I need the alcohol too bad to waste it.
“Listen, we could play this ‘hate’ game all night, but we have work to do.” I roll my eyes at him. I want to duke this out with more words. “I’m not anymore happy about this arrangement than you are.”
“You don’t know anything about my happiness,” I answer defiantly.
“So you’re happy to be here then?”
“You know that I’m not,” I spit out at him. “I’d rather be at the zoo watching a baboon scratch its ass.”
He looks at me confused and starts to laugh. Hard. A doubled-over and holding his side, kind of laugh.
That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever said. How did I come up with that? Baboons? What the hell did that bartender put in my drink?
“Quit laughing at me.” I’m getting really pissed now.
“Let’s… quit… monkeying around… and get to work.” He speaks each word through his laughter practically choking on them. It’s completely annoying. People in the room are starting to notice us now. The workers who are setting up the event are probably thinking he’s as mad as a hatter.
“Stop the stupid monkey comments. You’re making a scene.” He finally calms down and quits laughing.
“Here are your cue cards for the night.” I snatch them out of his hand.
“You were such a jerk to me about them. You brought up the subject without even asking me first. Who do you think you are anyway?”
“I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if I wasn’t the best sex you ever had.” Now my drink is almost gone. Just a few drops left with some melted ice. And I bet you know what I’m about to do. That’s right. The contents inside my highball glass land on Coop’s face and bounce off onto the floor. He stares at me stunned. I’m stunned too.
“That’s it. You’re crazy. Completely nuts.” His voice is raised, almost to the point of yelling. “I think it’s better that we stay away from each other tonight. I’ll see you when it’s t
ime to step in front of the microphone. Until then get the hell out of my sight.”
“For your information you weren’t the best sex I’ve ever had.” I know. I’m lying through my teeth here but no way am I letting him get away with thinking that he was all that. Even though he was. Well, you get my drift.
I turn on my heels and head back to the bar and straight into the chest of Mr. Reynolds. He’s standing with his hands across his chest looking between Coop and me. It would be safe to assume he heard some of what we said. Likely witnessed my ice toss. I’m tempted to crawl under one of the casino tables.
“I have no idea what is or has gone on between you two. But the success of tonight’s event is too important to let some lover’s spat affect it. I expect both of you to act like grown ups. Am I making myself clear?” Oh boy, Mr. Reynolds isn’t his usual jolly self.
“Sir, we just came to an understanding, right, Ms. Montgomery?” Coop says.
I nod in agreement. “I can assure we won’t let anything like this happen again.”
“Okay.” Mr. Reynolds eyes us speculatively. “I need to help with a display, but I’ll be watching.”
Mr. Reynolds heads to a table by the stage where Coop and I will be standing later. I swear I heard Mr. Reynolds muttering under his breath, but I couldn’t make it out.
Now with an empty glass in my hand, I continue my trip across the room to the bar. I don’t even glance back at Coop, but I feel his eyes on me. Burning my backside. Deliciously. Damn him.
People start arriving about thirty minutes after the “incident.” I’m finishing up my second drink and contemplating a third. The room isn’t spinning. I’m still able to stand, so I order one more. This next drink was my big mistake as the third one was what tipped the scales of sobriety.
I feel a hand gripping my arm hard, just above the elbow. Fingers dig into my flesh and I let out a little cry protesting the pain.
