by RC Boldt
HARD TO HANDLE
Teach Me Series, Book 2
R.C. BOLDT
Hard To Handle
Copyright © 2015 by RC Boldt
ISBN-10: 0-9968938-1-4
ISBN 13: 978-0-9968938-1-7
Editor: There For You Editing
Cover design: Wicked By Design
Formatting: Champagne Formats
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products references in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Visit my website at www.rcboldtbooks.com.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Acknowledgments
About the Author
DEDICATION
Matty,
All the hot guys I write about in these books pale in comparison to the one I get to have by my side every day.
PROLOGUE
Laney
Eight years old
Fernandina Beach, Florida
I TIPTOED DOWN THE HALLWAY of the dark house, past my mother’s room, ignoring the stifled cries which were painful to hear. Tapping lightly on my brother’s door, I heard him whisper, “Come in, squirt.” I entered, closing the door quietly behind me. Crawling onto the bottom bunk, and pulling the blanket up over my body, I saw Foster’s head drop down from the top bunk above me.
“You okay, Laney?” Even upside down, I could see the lines of worry etched on my brother’s face.
Trying to be tough and not a cry baby, I pressed my lips together, attempting to hold back the rush of tears that threatened. I didn’t understand why our dad had to leave. Our mom was trying to hide her crying but me and my older brother, Foster, had heard her at night when she thought we were in bed asleep. It was obvious she was trying to be strong, since every time we helped her clean the house or put away groceries, she played Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” over and over … and over again. Foster and I were so sick of that darn song.
“How long is she gonna be sad, Fos?”
Foster’s head disappeared for a moment, and within seconds, he’d jumped swiftly to his feet beside me. “Move over, bacon.” He nudged me over on the narrow, twin mattress. We laid there for a moment in silence.
“Tucker said his mom cried a lot when his parents got divorced last year. It’ll be okay, Laney.”
“You promise?” I could hear the trembling in my voice.
“Yep,” he answered without hesitation. “Our mom’s tough. Remember when she told that older kid, George, he’d better stop messing with you on the bus or she was gonna to tell his mom that he was the one who toilet papered the mayor’s house?”
I giggled at the memory. “How’d she even know that?”
He shrugged. “Mom’s got her ways. Just like then, she’ll be tough with this, too. You’ll see.” He spoke with such certainty–as if it was fact—that I felt like I had to believe him.
“If this is what happens, I’m never going to fall in love or get married when I get older. No way.” I shook my head vehemently.
“Nah, Laney. Don’t say that.”
“I’m serious. I don’t want anything to do with that. Because what if I do and this happens? If the guy leaves me just like dad left us? Nope. Not gonna happen,” I said confidently.
“When I’m a Navy SEAL, anyone messes with you, I’ll take care of ’em,” my brother said this with such sureness that it made me smile. Foster, although only four years older, had already made up his mind he was going to join the Navy and become a SEAL.
He yawned loudly. “I gotta get some sleep.” He pulled himself back up onto the top bunk. “Night, Laney McBrainy.”
I didn’t even make a face when he used that awful nickname. “Night, Fos. Love you.”
“You, too.”
I continued to lie there on that bottom bunk bed, lost in my thoughts, long after I heard my brother’s breathing even out as he succumbed to sleep. Thinking about my life and what I didn’t want it to be like, I decided I wasn’t ever getting married because I didn’t want to experience—or risk—the husband leaving. Like our dad had left us.
Yeah, I just needed to write that down, make a list, so I’d always remember it. That would save me from ever having to go through what our mom went through.
Because no one was going to hurt, or leave behind, Laney Kavanaugh ever again.
CHAPTER ONE
Jacksonville, Florida
Present Day
“I TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR what happens to your face if you keep running your mouth.” Laney’s flinty glare was fixed on Zach.
“Your lips keep moving but all I hear is ‘blah, blah, blah’,” Zach imitated a higher-pitched, female voice.
“Weak, man. Weak.” Lawson shook his head at his friend’s comeback.
“Shut it,” came Zach’s quick response. “I don’t need to get crap from two ladies at once.”
Lawson threw his head back in a laugh. “Man,” he slapped his friend on the back, “I can’t wait until you two finally give in.” He paused, leaning in close to whisper to Laney, “Just in case you’re wondering, his safe word is ‘Don’t stop’—Ouch!” He rubbed his elbow from where their friend, Raine, had flicked him with her finger and thumb.
“Laws,” Laney and Zach both warne
d him in unison, causing them to glare at each other in return.
Before either could respond, their principal, Mr. Pratt began their faculty meeting. It was the week prior to the school year’s official start and teachers were scheduled to be in meetings and given time to prepare their classrooms throughout the week.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the first item I need to address is that the brains downtown at the Board of Education think we need more collaboration amongst our teachers.” The sarcasm was evident in Mr. Pratt’s tone.
He continued, “Those geniuses think we need more ‘cohesiveness’ and want complimentary subjects to be taught and planned with one another.” Their principal made a face. “Because, God forbid, we’re not ‘cohesive’ enough.”
This was a prime example of why Laney loved teaching for Mr. Pratt. He just got it. He understood what hell the “higher powers downtown” could wreak on the teachers. Though he hadn’t been in the classroom for years, he’d never lost touch with what his teachers needed and he always fought for them. And, in turn, he often locked horns with the Board for them.
“You’ll need to work things out with your grade level on how to best align your plans.” Mr. Pratt continued, “They want teachers of the English and writing combo to be aligned with social studies. They also want reading to align with math because of the majority of math questions on the state tests being word problems, now.”
Their principal turned to Raine, the designated fourth-, fifth-, and sixth-grade Science Lab teacher. “Raine, you keep on doing what you’re doing. Our gains on the science section of the tests are continuously increasing so they, for once, have no complaints on that.” He winked at Raine.
Laney’s best friend beamed with pride and rightly so. Her friend busted her butt to do an experiment daily—some were nothing elaborate, while others were pretty complex—to coincide with the objective she was teaching so that her students would have hands-on learning.
Just as she was turning her attention back to her principal, Laney’s gaze caught on Tate’s worried expression, eyes wide. Tate was her other best friend and coworker. But why was she worried?
Then, it hit her.
Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.
She taught fifth grade social studies.
And Zachariah Mayson, the bane of her existence, taught fifth grade English and writing.
Which meant, ooh goody, they had to collaborate closely, work together to make their lesson plans align.
Right then, she may have thrown up a little in her mouth.
* * *
He had to work closely with Laney Kavanaugh. It was being enforced that they had to collaborate.
He felt like pumping his fist in the air. Since … well, this was a pretty big deal. Because it was Laney Kavanaugh.
Okay, so he hadn’t been the most mature or sweet to her over the years they had taught together. He couldn’t really help that. It had become kind of their thing to banter back and forth, trading insults.
But, lately, he was feeling almost … exhausted by it all. He was tired of the constant animosity between them. He wanted to be able to toss an arm around her shoulders or just get an honest to goodness genuine smile out of her like Lawson or Mac managed to do.
Instead, he got snarls and glares.
But this was going to be his chance. He had a good feeling about this.
Until he turned his head to see Laney, sitting diagonally from him at their table, appearing as if she were about to be violently ill. That good feeling got knocked down a few notches to the thought, Eh, this might work out.
Okay, no. That was a lie. It was more like an, Uhhh, I have my work cut out for me.
And that maybe he should get her a wastebasket.
CHAPTER TWO
“YOU CAN DO THIS, LANEY,” Tate attempted to bolster her confidence. “Just remind yourself that it’s for the kids.”
“Exactly,” Raine agreed. “It’s for the kids. And who knows if these guidelines will get tossed to the side next year.” Raine and Tate exchanged a look before nodding at one another.
Tate snapped her fingers as if she had just thought of something. “Like with the differentiated instruction? Remember how they told us we had to implement that, even though we’d basically been doing it all along anyway? And then, bam!, next thing we knew, that went out the window and they told us to implement something entirely different.”
Laney gave a weak smile at her friends’ attempts to cheer her up. “But you two are missing a key point in all of this.” She tilted her head to the side and squinted as if she were looking at something bright. “I have to work with Zach.” She shuddered at saying the words aloud. “I feel the need to scrub my tongue just saying his name. He’s the kind of person that makes twenty-five to life not seem so bad.”
Tate gave her a stern look. “He’s not that bad, Laney.”
She stared at her in pure disbelief. “Who are you? Do you not hear the things he says to me all the time?” Turning to Raine, she asked, “Do you not remember how it all began? From the awful moment he introduced himself?” Cringing inwardly, she could still remember it as if it were yesterday.
She had been ready to start off the school year—her first year of teaching, mind you—as perfect as possible. In the teaching world, however, nothing was ever perfect. Regardless, she was trying to maintain positive thinking while combating the nervousness at being on her own, having her own classroom for the first time. Ever.
She recalled walking to the Media Center with Raine, who had one year of teaching under her belt already. Her friend had put in a good word for Laney with her principal and she’d been hired on at the same school. Raine was Laney’s best friend and roommate from when they attended the University of Florida. Since Raine had decided to take a full course load two summers in a row, she had graduated first, securing a job at the school where they taught.
The two women were headed down to the ‘meet and greet’ session for the faculty and staff before their first meeting of the year commenced. They entered through the large doors of the Media Center and Laney absently smoothed her hair, trying to tamp down her nervousness. She had been about to turn and ask Raine which table she wanted to sit at when she saw him.
Rooted at the spot, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Dressed in pressed khaki pants and a short-sleeved polo that showed off the impressive muscles in his arms, he looked a little more than six feet, fit and athletic. He enjoyed being outdoors, judging from his healthy-looking tan. With short, dark blond hair, a square jaw, and lips that shouldn’t be allowed to be on a guy—they appeared so full and soft—he was every woman’s fantasy. When his eyes met hers, she nearly gasped aloud. Holy crap, his eyes were like the most beautiful painting of a stormy gray sky. When he began to walk toward her, she tensed. Glancing behind her, seeing no one, she panicked because surely this guy wasn’t coming to talk to her. Was he?
Oh, shit. He is.
He came to stand before her, appearing a little hesitant, sliding his left hand into his pocket while thrusting out his right hand to her.
“Zach Mayson. I’ll be teaching fifth grade writing and English.”
God, even his smile was perfect, damn it. It just wasn’t fair.
She reached out to clasp his hand and when she felt his fingers wrap around hers, she swore she saw his own eyes widen, mirroring her own. That was just freaky, because, well, his hand holding hers had felt … right.
Clearing her throat, she introduced herself, “Laney Kavanaugh, fifth grade social studies.” Ending their handshake, she restrained the urge to groan a little at breaking the contact.
“Social studies, huh?” he asked, rocking back on his heels, assessing her. She had chosen a lavender wraparound dress with teal and white block patterns on it. On her feet were her favorite wooden wedge slides.
“You might want to rethink your attire with all those young, hormonal boys.” His smile set her on edge.
She narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me? What’s that
supposed to mean?”
He held up both hands in surrender and her fingers itched to slap the cocky smile from his face. “Hey, now. I’m just trying to say that having a teacher looking like you would inspire a lot of lust … and possible lawsuits.”
Was he for real?
She wasn’t about to hang around just to be insulted more. Too bad those good looks were wasted on him. She cut him off, strong sarcasm in her tone. “While it was super fun talking to you, Mayson, I need to find a table to sit at where I won’t be insulted about my attire.”
“But—”
Ignoring his sputtering, she turned on her heel and found Raine, speaking with their new principal, Mr. Pratt.
Laney shuddered at the memory, coming back to the present. “That man is wretched and has been from the start.”
Raine and Tate exchanged a look that she wasn’t sure she liked. “What was that?” Her eyes were squinty as she gestured between them.
Raine just smiled sweetly. “Nothing, sweetie.”
“We just think that maybe you two could work through your, uh, differences with all this.” Tate nodded, her blonde bob swinging as if to add emphasis.
“And, sometimes, boys are stupid and do stupid things. Like tease girls they like and pull their pigtails.” Raine’s green gaze locked onto Laney’s hazel eyes pointedly.
“Sometimes it’s good to pull a girl’s hair, though, if she likes it,” came a deep, masculine voice from Laney’s doorway.
Raine’s head whipped around, long, wavy black hair sliding over her shoulders. Her face lit up with a wide smile when she saw her fiancé, Mac, in the doorway.
Laney put her hands over her ears. “Please don’t speak of your bedroom escapades in front of me. La, la, la, la, la.”
Mac smiled and there was that infamous dimple of his, making itself known. If he weren’t like a brother to her, she would probably find herself swooning over that man.
“So,” he slid his hands in his pockets, leaning against the door jam, “you and Mayson, huh? Can I get tickets to that show, please?” He smirked.
Raine and Tate glared at him. “Seriously, Mac? We just got finished telling her it was going to be a good thing for them to work together,” came Raine’s reprimand before the two exchanged a look.
