by L. M. Carr
“Girl, look at that ass! I bet the rest of him looks that good, too.” Angie’s southern drawl in full effect. I shake my head and laugh under my breath, embarrassed by my dirty thoughts. I turn to face her, hand over some cash, and whisper, “Angie Jackson! What’s the matter with you? Aren’t you happily married? Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise at the Jackson home, is there?” I mimic her southern drawl perfectly. The dark brown skin around her eyes crinkles as she purses her lips and smirks because we both know that she and her husband, Clayton, who owns an auto repair shop in town, are head over heels in love with each other. “Mia, girl.” She snaps her teeth. “You know better than that! Honey, just cuz’ I can’t touch, don’t mean I can’t look! But, you...you can touch, girl.”
I feel the flush of my face come quickly. “You’re crazy, Ang. That’s why we all love you.” Dropping the change into my pocket, I load my grocery bags back into the carriage, and head outside into the hazy, hot, and humid August air.
When I get back home, I am thoroughly exhausted and grateful that there were no more sightings of Adam. After putting my groceries away and eating a bowl of cereal, I plop myself down on a bar stool at the island and begin rifling through the tall stack of mail, sorting it into two piles. Junk. Junk. Junk. Really? I won a sweepstakes? I thought Ed McMahon was dead. Junk. Junk. My eyes widen in surprise when I spot the return address of the large, manila envelope from San Antonio Public School District. Save. My brother’s suggestion to always keep my options open couldn’t have come at a better time.
Chapter Four
MY THERAPIST ONCE said that most people usually follow their instincts. When danger presents itself, people of sound mind will typically run away from it. It’s that fight or flight instinct, I guess. I like to consider myself a pretty good judge of character and am usually right to follow my instincts. Usually. Not always.
After tossing and turning all night, my mind kept wandering back to the man from the park who then glared at me in my driveway. He’s dangerous, I can tell. Not dangerous in he’d lure me and kill me kind of dangerous. Dangerous in the kind of man who will take a woman’s heart and shred it into a million pieces and not care about the consequences. A man like that isn’t looking for a lifetime of love—he’s looking for a night of lust.
A million questions race through my mind as Brady and I round the gate to the park’s entrance. Brady picks up the pace, knowing what he wants to do and I’m happy to let him lead me straight to the stream that flows beneath the old, wood covered bridge. I sit down on a picnic table, take a drink, and look around.
College kids set up a volley ball net, stretching out the lazy days of summer. A young couple strolls hand in hand, the swell of her belly protruding out from under her pink cotton sundress. Shrills of laughter and delight draw my attention to the newly installed playground area where children swing and play without a care in the world.
I sigh heavily, releasing all the pent up “what ifs” from long ago that some days slither to the forefront of my mind. I rebuke myself for wallowing in a moment of self-pity. “Let’s go, boy!” I call to Brady, as I climb the long “expert” trail marked with a black diamond.
Looking out over the town, I’m surprised that I didn’t notice earlier all the new construction that’s been taking place recently. The new school was a big focus of our town for the past few years and before that, well, I guess I didn’t really pay attention to much going on around me.
Two hours later, as the sun begins its evening descent, I pull back on Brady’s leash as we make our way back into my neighborhood, slowing our pace to cool down. I’m lost in thought, making mental notes of all the things that I still need to do this week to get my classroom ready, when my attention is drawn in the direction of a huge, shiny, black SUV driving slowly, approaching in my direction.
The driver’s tinted window is lowered a quarter of the way, but the rest remain closed. With the sun glare impeding my sight, I raise my hand to my brow, hoping to catch a glimpse of the driver. I smile and admire the beauty of the luxury vehicle; I inherited my father’s appreciation for fine cars.
There are several houses that have been put on the market recently. I wonder if the driver is moving slowly to look at one of them. It would be great to have a young family around. I’m more than happy to offer some insight into our neighborhood and the families who live here. Don’t get me wrong, the Longos are great if you like to play Dominoes or setback on the back deck all afternoon. Mrs. Longo told me once that she and her husband were quite adventurous in their younger days. Strip poker was their card game of choice back then. I can’t help the cheesy grin and laughter that erupts from my mouth as I picture Mr. Longo in his tighty whities. I realize that I’m still staring at this approaching vehicle as I laugh to myself. I must look like a crazy person!
Suddenly, the vehicle picks up speed, the window closing before I can see the face of the driver. I just stand there, dumbfounded, wondering who that was. I mumble to myself about not wanting the car’s occupants to move into my neighborhood because they drive way too fast for a residential area. When I look down to turn off my iPod, I notice goose bumps cover my skin, up and down both arms.
What’s up with that?
Chapter Five
THE LAST WEEK OF summer vacation is spent working in my classroom. I love this time of year. Stapling up new bulletin boards, attaching name tags to desks, and arranging my classroom perfectly for the new group of kids are some of my favorite things to do before the first day of school.
Noticing my travel mug of coffee is once again empty, I make a quick run to Dunkin’ Donuts to satisfy my caffeine fix. I am a self-proclaimed coffee junkie. I pull into the drive thru as I usually do, but I quickly cut across the parking lot and nearly collide with an Audi when I see Pete standing behind the counter.
Pete is one of my oldest and closest friends. We’ve been friends since Kindergarten and he was my first crush in second grade. He was my first kiss in eighth grade. I loved him like crazy until he told me that he’d never love me like that. Pete, the boy I wanted to marry, the boy whose name I scribbled all over my notebooks, loved boys. That was the beginning of his insistence that everyone call him Peter, not Pete. Lucky for me, I’ve been grandfathered in. Stepping out of my Jeep, I wave sheepishly, utter an apology to the scowling driver of the Audi, and step inside.
A huge burly man stands in front of me, shielding me. When Pete finally notices me, he nearly drops the frozen Coolata he’s making and runs around the counter. “Oh. My. God!” Wrapping his arms around my back, he pulls me close to his tall, lean body and swings me around through the air like a rag doll.
“Dude! Put me down!” I laugh, swatting his hands away. His beautiful hazel eyes sparkle with genuine love and happiness to see me. “I heard you were back...days ago.” He narrows his eyes. “Do you have any idea how fucked up it was that I heard from Angie Jackson that you were back? Very fucked up!” His eyes roll dramatically as he steps back behind the counter to make us each a cup of coffee and yells something about going on his lunch break. Lunch break? It’s 10:30 in the morning. I guess 10:30 sounds like a good time for lunch when your work day begins at 4:00 a.m.
I love hanging out with Pete. He’s so happy and carefree. I get an earful about his hot new boyfriend, but I’m quick to cover his lips when he starts to tell me about his sex life.
“Fine. Tell me about yours then,” he demands.
Every summer he begs for details about the juicy hookups that he swears I have. My exaggerated tales of dark erotica and dabbling in BDSM with some unbelievably, handsome billionaire are just that…tales. Pete spends way too much time reading romance novels. I chuckle at his words that I’ll find the one when the time is right, but it only serves to reopen the tiny wound in my heart that hasn’t quite mended since last spring.
“Hey, Peter. We need you,” an older woman calls, pointing to the long line of people waiting to be served.
“Ugh! I gotta ge
t back to work. Promise you’ll call me later?” He leans down to kiss my cheek as I promise to have him over for dinner or drinks by the fire pit soon.
***
“SHIT!” I CHOKE ON the last bit of coffee when I pull into my usual spot on the far side of the school parking lot. I reach back to grab my bag and notice the black SUV, a shiny Escalade, from Sunday is pulling into the lot, parking in a spot designated for visitors. The mustard yellow New York license plate confirms that it is the same vehicle. A feeling of trepidation courses through my body and puts me on alert. Curiosity begs me to spy on the driver who opens the door to exit, but I’m a total chicken shit. Instead, I scoot down, lowering myself while searching blindly for the cup holder with one hand and pulling the lever with the other to recline my seat, and I quickly manage to conceal myself. OK, Mia?! Seriously? What is wrong with you? Chill out!
I wait and wait. And then wait some more. Finally after twenty minutes or so I peek over and see Shelby’s white Honda Civic pull into the lot. Sitting upright, I glance around and adjust my seat to its upright position. I wipe the sweat from my brow, pull my hair into a messy bun, and go over to help Shelby with her boxes and bags for her classroom.
Why does just seeing this car have me on edge? It was odd how the driver slowed down and then sped up as I approached. I’ll have to ask Mrs. Longo if she’s ever seen it before. I’m thinking we might need to start a neighborhood watch or something.
“Hey, you. What’s going on? You…um…you look a little flushed,” she says, reaching into the trunk to retrieve her boxes. “Can you grab those for me?” She nods toward the oversized bag and the small, white rectangular box topped with a perfectly knotted gold bow.
“You okay?” she asks curiously as she closes the trunk.
“I’m fine. It’s just hot as hell and you’re late.” I lie, glancing over my shoulder towards the double doors leading into the building.
“Sorry. Mike wouldn’t let me leave ‘til he gave…” I hold up my hand to silence her.
“Ugh…I get it…I get it,” I say in mock disgust. “God, you two are like…freakin’ rabbits.” Yes, my best friend is a sex fiend.
Setting up Shelby’s room doesn’t take nearly as much time as mine did. But then again, I did mine alone last night. Only the custodian was there and he offered little help except to tell me to close the windows before I left.
Being the perfectionist that she is, Shelby insists that she needs to change the color of the bulletin board paper because it doesn’t match the new border. She grabs her phone and leaves in search of perfect bulletin board paper in the storage closet on the second floor.
I see the slim box that I carried in and open it, revealing a brass name plate with fancy black letters engraved boasting “Mrs. Matthews,” her new name. Hoping to surprise her, I carefully take the name plate into the hall and secure it in place outside her door. I breathe a quick puff of air onto the name plate, using the bottom of my t-shirt to wipe it until it shines. “Perfect!” I grin and whisper. “Absolutely, perfect!”
The sound of footsteps rounding the corner diverts my attention and I casually turn to see who’s there. I’m looking forward to meeting some of my new colleagues now that our schools have merged.
“Well, thank you for coming in. It was a pleasure meeting you,” Mrs. Chapman’s high-pitched voice croons. I start to greet my principal but freeze immediately when I see Adam standing beside her.
“Likewise,” his voice answers as he transfers a manila folder from one hand to the other to return her handshake. They both look over at me. Why, dear Lord? Tell me why this gorgeous, mysterious man is everywhere I turn lately. Maybe he is a stalker like in a bad Lifetime movie. Either way, hopefully he won’t remember me.
Saved by the bell is seriously the understatement of the century when my cell phone rings, begging to be answered. I smile feebly at my boss and the mysterious man and walk back into Shelby’s room.
Seeing Mom’s name makes me smile. I feel badly that we haven’t talked much lately. I swipe my phone and answer with enthusiasm, “Hi, Mom.” Walking over to the windows overlooking the parking lot, I listen absentmindedly as she rambles on about her friends and how she feels abandoned by her children because Josh and I don’t see or call her often enough. She’s a little dramatic. I look out around the parking through the classroom window and notice the Escalade is still parked there.
“I know. I know…” I interrupt, not able to get a word in edgewise. “Ma, I hear you! You don’t have to yell. Will you please just calm down?” I can’t take it when she gets herself all worked up; I need to call the doctor and have him adjust her meds again. “Okay, Ma…I gotta go. Okay…yes. I know, Ma…I will, Ma. Yep…love you, too.”
I close my eyes and press my forehead against the window, taking deep breaths, reminding myself that she isn’t well and even though I am twenty seven years old, I’ll always be her baby. Life hasn’t always been fair to her. I guess I truly am my mother’s daughter.
“Fucking shit!” I curse, tossing my phone onto the desk, watching it slide towards the edge nearly falling to the floor. I quickly and quite ungracefully scramble, reaching out and save my phone before it succumbs to iPhone suicide.
An “ahem” startles me. My eyes snap up immediately. Wearing black dress pants and a light blue dress shirt, Adam leans against the frame of the doorway, his arms crossed against his chest. His face is sexier than before with a thicker scruff in place.
“I hope that vocabulary isn’t part of the curriculum at this school,” he smirks. “I’ve heard great things about this school and its staff,” he continues. What? Oh, my God! Shit, I hope he’s not a new teacher here. Oh no! I bet he’s the new assistant principal. Last I heard, the vacancy had not been filled yet and the search continued on. Crap! That would be awkward!
“Oh…um...no,” I stutter as my face begins to flush. “I’m sorry you heard that. That was a personal matter.” I mentally curse my mother and her craziness.
Wondering where Shelby is, I straighten myself out and look beyond Adam into the empty, quiet hall. His eyes follow mine, a slow grin appears, as he turns and looks behind him toward the door and then back at me. Does he think I’m looking for an escape route? I feel like a small, helpless animal trapped beneath the spell of a predator. I swallow hard, waiting for him to speak or for Shelby to arrive and help a sister out.
His eyes are on me like he’s studying me, then his eyes flash around the room. “So, you’re the teacher?” he asks thoughtfully, looking around, presumptuously stepping further into the room.
“Yes, I’m a teacher.” My voice is small. I fidget with my phone to calm my nerves.
“This is a nice room. It’s very...clean, creative, and...purposeful.” A wicked grin appears. “I like rooms like that.” I swallow hard again because I can only imagine the kind of room Mr. Sexy here is talking about. Who does he think he is? Christian Grey or something? Okay, Mister. Time to go!
“Yes, it is a nice classroom.” Grabbing my bag, I tell him quickly that I was just on the way out, hoping that he’ll get the hint and leave. But no, he stands there ogling me from head to toe. I watch with fascination as he inhales and exhales resolutely. Finally, his cheek pulls back in a side smile and then he simply nods and turns to leave. I can’t help but stare at how nicely his ass fills out his expensive dress pants. His strong and confident gait exudes pure sex. Oh dear God, a shiver tingles through me. If he’s the new vice principal, I just might have to transfer. There is no way I can work under him when I want to be under him.
Just as he crosses the threshold of the doorway, Adam stops, peering considerately at the brass name plate on the wall. “What did you say your name was?” he asks. He looks disappointed.
My eyes flash to meet his. “I didn’t,” I answer indignantly.
His lips pucker to contain his amusement. Adam’s eyes quickly close and reopen as if he were shaking off a negative thought. “Well.” He looks at the name plate, his brow
furrows. “It was a pleasure seeing you…again. I look forward to seeing you around.”
He walks toward the front entrance of the building but stops abruptly just as he reaches the double doors. He pauses and glances back at me dejectedly while his mouth opens to speak before closing quickly. The forlorn expression on his face makes me feel guilty for being a bitch so I offer a conciliatory smile as an apology for my rudeness.
As if debating his next move, he briefly shakes his head and sighs. Is this really the same man who eye-fucked me at the park? Why couldn’t he just introduce himself like a normal person? This Adam may be a gorgeous, sexy man, but I can tell he’s trouble. It’s written all over his face. Huge red flags wave feverishly in my face. I definitely need to heed the warning and steer clear of him.
Half an hour later Shelby finds her way back to the classroom with colorful rolls of bulletin board paper and we finish setting up her room. My cheeks feel about as red as the paper she chose.
“Well, it’s about time! Where the hell did you go? China?” I snort, grabbing a roll of paper from her before she drops it, wondering how she even managed to carry all this stuff.
“I stopped to say hi to a few people. I wasn’t gone that long. God, you’re moody today. What’s your problem?” she asks as she measures and cuts the perfect length from the roll of paper. Am I really that transparent? I know she knows me well and all, but really? “What’s got you all hot and bothered?” If Shelby only knew how hot and bothered I am!
