Done With Men Forever (Clairmont Series Book 3)

by S. Jane Scheyder

  So he let her punch.

  About a minute or so in, he decided he’d had enough, and pulled her into his arms. He was the last person she’d want comfort from, but he was the only one around.

  So he held her.

  She was too shocked to resist at first. Her arms, caught in mid swing against his chest, finally relaxed. She stood for a moment, trying to catch her breath. She wasn’t exactly cuddling, but she wasn’t fighting it, either.

  His hand accidentally brushed her silky hair, and he paused. There was a very real possibility that holding Becky was almost as much fun as fighting with her. Dangerous territory.

  She must have sensed it, too, because a moment later she shoved away from him. “What are you doing out here?” she asked again, her voice calmer, but only because she was exhausted.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, making a small effort to control the limbs that had just betrayed him. “Grace asked me to come over and make sure there was no one prowling around.”

  Becky breathed a moment more, confusion warring with her recent fury. “Well, turns out it was you.” She shivered, apparently realizing that she was wearing only a sweatshirt. “I need to go in,” she said, turning back into the kitchen.

  It would have been an ideal time to leave, but Tank felt like he should finish the job and walk through the house. Not that she was likely to let him at this point, but he thought he should offer.

  Becky, still pretty jumpy, paced in the kitchen, rubbing her arms. She watched him follow her in and rolled her eyes. “Great.” She walked over to heat up some water for tea or something.

  She finally turned back to him. “Why didn’t you at least knock? Why were you just lurking out there?”

  Tank had a feeling it would be a while before he was properly thanked for coming out in the middle of the night to make sure she was safe. He should have figured it would end this way.

  “I did knock, and you came out at me with a fireplace poker.”

  She looked at him warily. “I didn’t hear a knock.”

  “I wouldn’t have just stood out there waiting,” for long, he qualified to himself. He had hesitated a bit, wondering if he should even knock on the door at all. Turns out, it was a legitimate concern.

  “All I heard was a big gust of wind and the logs crashing in the fireplace,” Becky replied, trying to sort out what had happened. “I opened the door to check for footprints, and then,” she shuddered.

  Tank had to admit that it wouldn’t be fun to run into himself unexpectedly in the dark. He’d really frightened her. When he thought about wanting to do it intentionally, it made him a little sick. Then he thought about Grace and sighed. She’d never believe what had happened out here wasn’t premeditated.

  “I’m sorry I scared you.” Hadn’t he said that to Becky the last time they talked, before Christmas? What kind of a stupid relationship was this?

  Becky looked up at him, clearly wanting to stay angry, but struggling in the face of his apology. “I’m sorry I sort of attacked you.”

  Sort of? Tank tried not to grin. Her qualification admittedly sucked some of the steam from her apology, but he understood why she’d done it.

  “It’s okay, it didn’t really ...” He stopped, but not soon enough.

  She eyed him with renewed irritation. “Hurt, right? That’s what you were going to say? It didn’t really hurt?”

  He shrugged. What could he say? It had been uncomfortable but it hadn’t hurt. Hadn’t budged him, either. That probably made her mad, too.

  “Well, you can go, now. I don’t think anything could scare me more than you already have.”

  He shifted. “I walked around the house and checked the neighbors’ yards. Do you want me to check upstairs?”

  She drew breath to lay into him and tell him how much she didn’t need him - it was all there in her eyes - but then she seemed to change her mind.

  “No, just go. Thanks for coming over here in the middle of the night. This was silly. I’m sorry Grace involved you.”

  He might be hearing it from Grace, but Grace was sure going to be hearing it from Becky. She was not happy.

  “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Tank walked out onto the porch, jogged down the steps, and continued down the beach. He would rather have checked through the inn, but he was not about to cross her anymore than he already had. If there was anyone in that house, they’d meet more than their match in Becky. She was no one to mess with tonight.

  fifteen

  “Ecoutez bien,” Becky directed the class, though getting them to ‘listen well’ on the first day back after Christmas break bordered on impossible. To make matters worse, she’d been assigned a new room, with a row of windows that looked out into the cafeteria, which also served as the study hall area. Apparently, there were blinds, but they didn’t work. Her students were constantly looking out to see who was misbehaving or walking by or doing anything that would excuse them from listening in French class.

  With a sigh, she walked over and stood in front of the window. “Okay, enough with the study hall.” She caught herself and continued, “Regardez moi, s’il vous plait.”

  Half of the class, the girl half, craned their necks to look around her.

  “Who’s that?”

  “The new P.E. teacher.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know, right?”

  Becky’s blood slowly went cold. No way. She turned and looked out the window. Across the cafeteria, strolling toward the gymnasium like he owned the place, was the porch villain from just a few nights ago. She marked his path with a small group of teachers and one of the administrators. He was a head taller than most of them.

  Her momentary distraction was not lost on her students.

  “Hey, Ms. Jacobs, have you met Mr. Kimball?” More than one girl snickered.

  “En Francais, s’il vous plait.”

  “Est-ce-que vous...” Several attempts followed as the students tried to remember how to ask their question in French.

  “C’est suffit.” Becky walked back to the front of the room. Let them speculate all they wanted about whether or not she knew the gym teacher, but they’d better do it in French. Her own speculation about the situation would have to wait until after school.

  ***

  “Why didn’t you tell me you took the P.E. job?”

  “Why would I?”

  Tank and Becky picked up their bickering in the parking lot after school. He would park his Jeep close to her car.

  “It would have been nice to have a heads-up.”

  “Didn’t think you’d care.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, I didn’t think you’d do it.”

  Tank shrugged. “No point in trying to hide anymore. People pretty much know I’m here and don’t really care.”

  Becky raised her eyebrows at this surprising admission.

  “I figured I’d try the teaching thing and help the school out ’til the end of the year,” he finished.

  She was trying to be angry at him and he was wrecking it. That had happened more than once, lately. It really threw her off.

  “Well, you interrupted my French class. They saw you walk by, and that was the end of it. The girls were all in a ...” She stopped, wishing she hadn’t taken her complaining that far.

  He showed no emotion, of course; just ran a hand over his jaw; his stupid, prickly jaw. The man needed to shave. “Kids were wound up all day. I figured they’d be tired out after their break.”

  “Yeah, so did I. I was hoping for a nice, quiet start to the semester.” She eyed him again. “I can’t believe you’re doing it. What about the penthouse?”

  “The penthouse?”

  She rolled her eyes. “The apartment at the inn?”

  “Oh.” His eyes crinkled a little as he fought a smile. “I’ll help finish it on the weekends.” He must have read the look on her face, because he added, “Don’t worry, you won’t have reason
to be alone and afraid for a good long while.”

  He was still perfectly capable of making her want to scream. “Nice. How long before I live that down?”

  “Long time,” he replied, his mouth quirking as he walked to his Jeep.

  ***

  “Seriously, can you believe it?”

  “What, that he’s teaching at the high school? Makes sense to me.” Maddy tossed the salad and set it on the island.

  “No, it doesn’t. We’re mortal enemies. I don’t want to work with him.”

  “You sound like a fifth grader.”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  Maddy laughed. “Honestly, what’s the big deal?”

  Becky picked up one of the sliced peppers and broke it in half.

  “You gonna eat that or play with it?” Maddy asked, moving her salad bowl out of Becky’s reach.

  “It’s just that, I don’t know, the high school was my space, you know? I was just getting comfortable, and it was kind of cool having my own connections over there. He’s there one day and everyone’s in an uproar.” She sighed and took a bite out of the pepper. “I have to be neutral about him, and believe me, that’s not easy.”

  “I don’t think I ever really got why you disliked him so much, except for the whole bailing you out and making breakfast and serving the guests thing.”

  Becky rolled her eyes. “That’s because you’ve fallen under his evil spell. You’re celebrity-smitten.”

  “Oh please, I never watched football until this fall, and that was just to spend time with John.”

  “Whatever. You’re still smitten.”

  “True. But not with Tank,” Maddy grinned. “And you’re determined to make a villain out of him. He’s a good guy.”

  “You didn’t see him lurking out on your porch in the middle of the night for no reason.”

  “He was trying to look out for you. Seriously, Becky! Did you even thank him?”

  “Of course, sort of,” she qualified. “I didn’t ask him to come prowling around.”

  Maddy shook her head. “I think John’s home with the boys. Better table the Tank discussion. You won’t get much sympathy here.”

  “I know! Have you seen Parker and him together? It’s definitely not cool.”

  Maddy smiled. “I think it’s great. And Blake has really opened up around him too. You know, I think he’d make a great uncle ...”

  She timed her exit perfectly, hustling out to greet her family, and leaving Becky to stare after her in disbelief.

  ***

  Becky walked through the high school looking for yet another new room. This was the first day of her health class, and she was anxious to get a take on her students. If she had mellow kids, it would be so much easier. The outspoken, self-proclaimed entertainers would be a tough crowd for the sex ed portion of the class.

  At least this class was first period. Most of the kids would likely be too tired to give her a hard time. She could hope.

  She found the room and tried the knob; already unlocked. She was running a little late - the wrong turn by the library had cost her - so someone must have let the kids in. She took a deep breath and pulled the door open.

  A quick scan of the room revealed mixed results. She recognized a few of the kids from her French class; that was mostly okay except for one girl with a particularly nasty attitude. Maybe she just didn’t like languages. Becky finished her quick appraisal of the students and stopped cold when her eyes rested on a figure at the front of the room; the large, hulking figure perched on her desk.

  She pulled air into her lungs and tried not to panic. “Excuse me, Mr. Kimball, may I speak with you?”

  He stood and walked to the door. “Yes, Ms. Jacobs?”

  Their formality was absurd. She stepped outside and he followed.

  “What are you doing in there?” she hissed.

  “Taking attendance.”

  Her eyes flashed unspoken invective as she slowly said, “Yes, I know that. Why are you in this room?”

  “This is my class,” he enunciated just as slowly.

  “This is my class,” she whispered frantically, doubt beginning to trump anger. “What are you teaching?”

  “Health.”

  She choked back an unteacherlike response. “I’m teaching this health class.”

  “We’re both teaching this health class.”

  “You’re a P.E. teacher. What do you have to do with health?”

  His raised brow acknowledged the silliness of her question.

  “Not a chance. I’m doing it alone,” she insisted.

  “You sure?”

  Of course, she wasn’t. It never occurred to her that they intended her to team teach the class. Why hadn’t they said anything to her? More importantly, “How long have you known about this?”

  He looked over his shoulder. They could both hear the class getting restless. “The syllabus said it was team-taught. I didn’t know who my partner was until you walked in the room.”

  Doubt radiated from her in waves.

  “Believe what you want. I signed on pretty late so I’m just trying to roll with whatever they need me to do.”

  “Well, I don’t need your help.”

  “Too bad. I’m already making friends in there.” He smirked at her. “I’m going back in to teach this class. You wanna bail, go ahead.”

  “I’m not bailing!”

  “Sounds like you are to me.”

  “Well, you’re just a football player, what do you know?”

  He lifted the folder of class materials he was holding. “I know all about this - all about ...” he leaned in close, “... health.”

  She backed up a step and lifted her chin. “Well, I’ll bet I know way more than you do about ... health.”

  Their eyes held for a long, interesting moment.

  “Prove it,” he said, and walked back through the door.

  ***

  Tank entered the room and held the door for a surprised Becky. Nice touch, he thought. If he was going to keep the tactical advantage he’d gained by being with the kids first, he had to appear gracious and welcoming to the new teacher. He would process the irony and, if he was honest, the intriguing aspects of the predicament, later. For now, it was time to be professional.

  “Class, Ms. Jacobs will be teaching health with me.”

  He could have been reciting the alphabet in Hindi for all that they were paying attention to him. Every eye, especially the male variety, was glued to Becky as she made a very well-rehearsed entrance. Tank had counted on her being more flustered; he’d forgotten that she’d been teaching for years.

  She was going to charm those students right out from under him.

  Two could play at that game. If she was going to cash in on her ‘presence,’ then he would, too. Presence he had in abundance; let her try to compete. He strode to the front of the room.

  “Alright, settle down. Let’s finish attendance and talk about what we’ll be covering.”

  ***

  Becky made the most of her entrance, working every angle she’d spent the last few months trying to downplay. Leaning against the teacher’s desk, she carefully schooled her seething features while Tank launched into the course overview.

  She looked on politely while considering his presentation. He had a natural command of the class, which, she supposed, wasn’t entirely surprising. If you’re accustomed to performing in front of thousands of people and a television audience, you probably didn’t have a lot of problems with nerves. Still, this was her arena. His weakness would show sooner or later, and she’d be ready.

  She searched her memory for any clue that she would share this class with another teacher. Nothing came to mind. Had she known she was sharing the course, she would have connected with the teacher and made a plan. She certainly would never have signed on to teach with Tank. What a joke! She felt her face grow warm at the idea of discussing these issues with that man.

  Focus on the class, she reminded her
self, and then noted that they were definitely focused on her. What had she missed? They were all looking at her expectantly, and to her dismay, Tank turned with a raised brow.

  She straightened and donned her most distracting smile. “I’m sorry, I was looking at the syllabus. Did you ask me something?”

  Tank glanced at the unopened folder on the desk. She dared him with her eyes to challenge her. He looked at her a long moment and then said, “Just wanted to know if you needed to add anything at this point.”

  She exhaled slowly. Point for him. “You’re doing fine,” she assured him sweetly. “Why don’t I take over for the self-evaluation?”

  He considered her offer a beat too long for Becky’s comfort. Uncertainty gave way to relief when he nodded. “Sounds good.”

  Becky smiled her ever confident, ‘I knew you’d come around’ smile, and he seemed to look right through it before turning back to the class.

  She would dissect that uncomfortable interlude later, after she took whatever steps necessary to change teaching partners. Even if it meant losing the money and giving the job to someone else, she was getting out. There was no way she was going to subject herself to the constant confusion of battling with Tank in front of a teenage audience.

  ***

  Tank had to admit, she knew her stuff. Becky was prepared for the class and appeared thoroughly familiar with the self-evaluation tool they were using. He was accustomed to thinking and acting under pressure, so he’d done well enough for the first half of the class. He’d have some homework to do before they met again.

  He observed how she walked through the room confidently, quietly interacting with students, answering the appropriate questions and effectively silencing the others. He settled into his seat to watch. It had been a long time since he’d been in the classroom. He might as well see if there was anything he could learn from her.

  Apparently some of the male students forgot he was in the room, because it wasn’t long before they began to mark her progress as avidly as he did. Their interest didn’t appear to be entirely professional. When Becky leaned over to listen to a girl’s question in the corner of the room, most of the boys in the rather large class simply turned and watched. Some were making gestures, others were grinning, and they were all ogling.