Fall for You (Flirting with Forever Book 4)

by Amanda Bailey

I reach for my napkin, needing something to do with my hands. I fold it and refold it before continuing. “Her dad. It’s Liam from the cider mill. It was so awkward. I died a million deaths in those first few seconds we laid eyes on each other.”

  Madison nudges my leg. “I don’t understand. You said he was hot. I think we all agreed.”

  “Yeah. So, what?” Piper questions.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe if I just ignore everything, it will go away.

  “What’s wrong, Quinn?” Zoey’s soft voice sounds next to me.

  My mouth opens and shuts a few times.

  “Uh-oh.” Hadleigh side-eyes me. “Tell me it’s not what I’m thinking it is.”

  I turn my head to look at her. “I had sex with him. I think I slept with a married man. I’m so sick about it, I want to vomit.” I inhale deeply. “And I had no idea he had a child, much less that he was going to show up at the parent-teacher conference, wife and child in tow.”

  The table quiets at the revelation of my bombshell. I swear, now we’re all having trouble processing the circumstances. At least I’m not alone in my confusion.

  Madison frowns. “When did this all happen with him?”

  “Um, the night we were at the cider mill for Hadleigh’s birthday.”

  Piper gasps and her hands cover her lower face. Slowly, she drops them. “The gloves and hat night? I thought you just went back to get my stuff and flirt a little.”

  “Yeah.” I shoot her a sick-to-my-stomach smile. “You were my convenient excuse that night.”

  The O on each woman’s lips would almost be comical if it weren’t such a rough position. I look to the ceiling. “I can still blame it on my dusty lady parts, right? If he’s married, I didn’t know at the time.”

  Sophia gives me a sad face. “It’s obvious you really like him. This isn’t your fault at all. Maybe there’s some sort of explanation—something you’re missing.”

  I shrug, catching her eye. I’m trying not to completely lose it.

  Sophia shakes her head at me. “Quinn. You like him. He likes you, obviously. So, either he’s a cheating rat bastard and you don’t want him anyway, or you don’t have the whole picture. I think you need to ask him what the hell the deal is before you get in any deeper.”

  I’m finally able to breathe now that I don’t feel so totally alone. “I know. I guess I’m going to have to talk to him. The other thing kind of throwing me for a loop is they’re offering me a ton of money to tutor Olivia once a week. That’s not definite because they wanted to talk it over with Olivia first, but honestly, I don’t know what to say or if I should accept it.”

  Hadleigh groans. “How freaking awkward would it be to take money from a guy you’re doing the lust and thrust with?”

  I close my eyes and try not to laugh because not much of this is funny. Except Hadleigh. She’s always funny. “Exactly. But I’ve been trying to convince Mom to get that surgery on her wrist. Their offer is so high, I’m not sure I can turn it down. We already know her insurance won’t cover the whole surgery. And her bakery is just barely making a profit.”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. While everyone is exchanging worried glances, I pull it out and take a peek at the message. Of course.

  Unknown Number: Ms. Lockmore, this is Olivia’s mom, Becky Thompson. We’ve discussed it further and would like for her to do the tutoring sessions with you if you’re still available.

  With a deep sigh, I add her to my contacts as “Olivia’s Mom” and tap out a quick answer.

  Me: Okay. I can start as early as tomorrow. How about 3:30-4:30?

  Olivia’s Mom: Sounds great. Her dad will pick her up afterward. She doesn’t drive yet.

  I look up from my phone to see everyone anxiously waiting on me. “Yep. Looks like I’ll be tutoring my lover’s child.” I flash the phone at them so they can see the messages.

  Zoey’s forehead creases as she squints at the screen. “Wait. That’s a different last name. Isn’t Olivia’s last name Ramsey?”

  Puzzled, I look at the message again. “Well, crap. Could it be that he’s divorced? I’d just assumed when they showed up for the parent-teacher conference that they were together.”

  Piper shrugs. “These days you never can tell.”

  “It’s also possible she uses her maiden name for her job. What does she do?” Madison questions.

  I purse my lips, trying to remember. “I think she’s a lawyer.”

  Sophia grits her teeth. “Yeah. Hard to say. Some women keep their maiden name for any number of reasons.”

  Hadleigh slaps the table with the palm of her hand. “Sounds like it’s way past time for some serious social media stalking, Q.”

  Chapter 6

  Liam

  “Olivia?” I wait for a response, and after getting none, walk over to the stairs and try again. “Olivia. Can you come downstairs, please? I could use some help with dinner.”

  From somewhere above, I hear a sure, so I head back to the kitchen to pull out the ingredients for the new recipe we’re trying tonight.

  After Becky and I divorced, I discovered that I actually like to cook. Neither one of us had had time for it before. Given her job as a defense lawyer and mine building a start-up cyber security company, I’m embarrassed to say that Olivia has eaten way more than her fair share of fast food and takeout in her fifteen years. With two enormously busy parents, it couldn’t be helped.

  I’m trying to do things differently now that it’s just the two of us. It was tough for a little bit when the cider mill was getting established, but now I’ve hired plenty of people to help keep things running smoothly. I can, for the first time in what feels like forever, focus on my daughter. Having home-cooked meals is one small thing I can do for her. It’s a bonus that I enjoy it.

  Figuring out what the hell is going on at school to cause the issues with her biology grade is a major concern on my plate right now.

  I get back to chopping up some broccoli into smallish pieces while I wait for her to come down. We recently got a really cool cooking blender and the plan for tonight is broccoli cheddar soup. Life in Massachusetts can be cold, and I like being able to make a good soup from scratch when the weather is nasty.

  Olivia comes in and plops herself onto one of the stools across from me at the island centered in the middle of the spacious kitchen. This place isn’t as big as the home we had in Boston, but I love it. Our only real requirements when we moved here were a bedroom and bathroom for each of us and a big kitchen. This place fit the bill, and, honestly, it’s bigger than what we need for just the two of us.

  I gesture with the knife in my hand at the block of cheese on the counter before I slide a cutting board and utility knife over to her. “Can you cut the cheese into cubes for me?”

  She glances back and forth between the broccoli I’m cutting and the cheese. “I see what you’re doing.”

  I stop, gazing at her as she opens the package and pulls the hunk of cheese out. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re trying to fool me into eating that nasty broccoli by drowning it in a sea of cheese.”

  I chuckle. “Mm. You caught me. That’s exactly what my thought process was.”

  “I do eat vegetables, you know. I use my meal punch at the salad bar at school.”

  “Well then, you’re ahead of the game.” I shrug, going back to cutting up the broccoli. “No one ever died from extra veggies.”

  “Whatever you say, Dad.” The way she says Dad lately kills me. I want to go back to the days when she called me Daddy in that sweet little voice that made my heart melt. These days, it’s almost as if my name is a bad word. She could easily replace it with you big jerk, and it would evoke the same feeling.

  It’s hard to think about the fact that she’s growing up. In three short years, she’ll probably be off to college and I’ll miss her. Okay, maybe not the attitude or the yellow Converse sneakers in the middle of the floor that I trip over … but I’ll miss her.

  I wond
er how Becky is dealing with not having Olivia with her full time. Unfortunately for Olivia and me, her job’s always been her first priority. Maybe it’s not as hard for her. Not sure. Olivia is my priority, though, which brings me right back to cooking a good meal for us.

  Olivia slides the board with the cubed cheese back toward me. Working silently, I add the ingredients to the blender, select the soup setting, and hit start. It begins to heat and blend, picking up speed and warming the ingredients as it goes.

  I cross my arms and lean forward on the counter to get her attention. “So. You want to tell me what’s going on in biology?” I hesitate, cautious, wondering if she’ll actually give me a straight answer.

  She shrugs. “Nothing. I just can’t keep up.” That’d be a no for the straight answer. It’s not as if I expected her to spill immediately.

  “But why? Quinn didn’t seem to think the material was all that difficult, though she’s willing to tutor you.”

  I realize my mistake the minute her name crosses my lips and hope Olivia hasn’t noticed my slip-up.

  “It’s not hard, I just—it’s hard to pay attention in that class.”

  I’m about to ask what’s distracting her when she frowns. Uh-oh. Ah, shit.

  “Did you just call Ms. Lockmore Quinn?” Her forehead scrunches as she looks at me, searching my face for the answer.

  Oh boy. That was a fuckup of astronomical proportions. “Sorry, I guess I remember seeing her name in the e-mail she sent me about the conference.” Crap, crap, crap. “She looks like I would imagine a Quinn to look. I guess it stuck.”

  “So, you don’t know her?”

  “I think I’ve seen her in passing at the cider mill. You remember I told you a while back that Ms. Caringello had reserved the mill for her wedding reception, right?” Oh please, Olivia. I don’t like keeping things from you. Please pick up on this and talk about the wedding all you want.

  “Right. They work together, I guess. Science teachers and all. Ms. Caringello is marrying Mr. Mitchell, so there will be two Mitchells at school next year.” She huffs. “Talk about confusing.”

  Thank you, thank you, thank you. Let’s just forget all about my little blunder. “What do they teach?”

  She pops a chunk of cheese into her mouth, thinking for a few seconds before answering. “Ms. Caringello has mostly chemistry classes, and Mr. Mitchell teaches physics. I think he actually teaches one period of chemistry. I can’t imagine being so lucky to get him twice, two years in a row. But then I’d really not be paying attention to the lessons.”

  I’m pleasantly surprised she’s opening up to me for once and want to keep the conversation going as long as I can, but I’m also slightly uncomfortable at the direction I think it’s just taken. “Oh? Why’s that?”

  She gives me a sheepish smile and mumbles, “He’s really cute.”

  I close my eyes for a few seconds and clear my throat. “Well, all right, then.” I’m not sure I needed to know my child thinks of adult men in that way, but … dammit, I know she’s growing up. And now I’m wondering if that’s not what this is all about in the first place. A guy. I debate internally for a few seconds before I decide to continue. “Is there someone in particular distracting you in biology?”

  Her face immediately colors and her eyes flare. “Dad …”

  “What? Is that why your grade is slipping? Are you doing a little too much flirting or something?”

  Her gaze drops to the counter where her fingers trace patterns on the granite counter. She presses her lips together. Quietly, she whispers, “Not really. The boy I like doesn’t really know I exist.”

  I work my jaw back and forth. Well, how the hell is that possible? Maybe I’m biased, but Olivia is a kind, beautiful girl. Any guy would be lucky to have her for a girlfriend. I frown inwardly, trying not to let Olivia see how disturbed I am by the notion that she’s invisible to this dumb boy she’s mooning over.

  In all honesty, I’d always assumed she’d have had a boyfriend by this point, so I’d been congratulating myself, thinking I’d dodged a pretty big bullet when she’d never talked about anyone in particular. It was either that or the possibility she’d been hiding a boyfriend from me this whole time. But it’s not really like Olivia to conceal something like that, and from the look on her face, I don’t think that’s the case. But I can tell there’s something she’s not saying.

  “Is he in that class?” I busy myself pulling out bowls and spoons, discreetly eyeing her as I do so.

  She shakes her head. “No. Just some of his friends.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere.

  “And what’s going on there?” I chew the inside of my cheek, wondering what the real story is.

  “Can we just drop it, Dad?” she mumbles.

  My brow furrows, and I sigh, pausing to make eye contact with her. “Olivia, I just want to make sure we fix whatever is messing with your grades. Mom has texted Ms. Lockmore about the tutoring, and you can start tomorrow.” I pause, noting her grim expression. “I’d like to make sure the tutoring is going to be effective. I don’t want to get you all caught up, only to fall behind again because of some underlying issue.”

  She jerks up off the stool, knocking it back a foot. “It’s nothing! Can I go upstairs until dinner is ready?” She bites down on her lip so hard, I think she’s going to break the skin.

  Studying her pale, freckled face, I blow out a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, baby girl. I’ll call you down when it’s ready.” No sense in pushing the issue right now. I’m now one hundred percent sure something is going on in that class.

  She doesn’t hesitate, racing off toward the stairs, a blur of long blonde hair and canary-yellow shoes.

  With only the whir of the cooking blender for company, I pull out my phone and notice I’ve missed a few texts from Becky.

  Becky: I’ve arranged tutoring with Ms. Lockmore on Wednesdays from 3:30-4:30.

  Becky: Can you do pick up? I can if I have to, but that’s quite a drive.

  I inhale and close my mouth, holding my breath so my cheeks puff out. Slowly, I let it out as I reply to her.

  Me: Pick up is not an issue. I’ll make sure I block off Wednesday afternoons.

  Becky: Good. Because you know how hard it would be for me to get away.

  Yes, Becky. I don’t really hold any ill feelings toward her anymore, but I’m not sure why she feels she has to remind me. The all-encompassing importance of her job is why we are in this position right now. I’m well aware of how tough her schedule was—and continues to be—on our family.

  Becky: Also, I assume since I pay child support that you’ll be covering the tutoring costs.

  I roll my eyes to the ceiling. It’s just like Becky to make the arrangements with Quinn, then stick me with the bill. It’s not that I can’t afford it. And yes, I’m aware she pays child support. But it really makes me laugh that she’d spouted off a sky-high amount to get Quinn on board, and now I’m responsible for coming through with it. I’d do anything for Olivia—including paying Quinn for tutoring services—but Becky’s methods are irksome. And totally typical.

  And well … it’s awkward. I slept with the woman. I had no fucking clue that she was Olivia’s teacher. The last thing I want to do is make problems for either of them at school.

  The look on her face when she saw me in her classroom hit me square in the gut. I can’t imagine it was easy for her to talk to me as if she hasn’t had my hands on her, hasn’t seen me naked, hasn’t felt me inside her. I’d hoped we’d eventually try to be more than just a quick fuck, that we’d be able to give us a chance. Maybe even date or something like that—although dating at thirty-seven with a teenage daughter feels daunting, not to mention tricky as hell. And now that I know Quinn is Olivia’s teacher? It’s just an extra layer to deal with.

  I don’t honestly know what the right path is yet, but undoubtedly, I’ll be going over and over it in my head until I come to some sort of resolution that works for all of us. I do
n’t know how or even if I should tell Olivia that I’d like to explore a relationship with her teacher or how she’d react. And Olivia has to be my first priority.

  Even if it means I can’t see Quinn anymore. Not like that.

  Chapter 7

  Quinn

  At three thirty, right on the dot, a soft knock sounds on my door. That has to be Olivia. “Come on in.”

  The door creaks open and sure enough, Liam’s daughter slips inside the room and shuts the door behind her. “Hi, Ms. Lockmore. Um, are you ready for me?” She stands there, thumbs hooked through the straps of her backpack like they are some sort of lifeline and if she lets go, she’ll fall. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, looking at me expectantly.

  “Of course. How about you slide one of the desks over here next to mine, and I’ll show you what we need to get you caught up on.”

  “Okay. Sounds good.”

  Once she’s settled next to me, I pull up all the assignments she’s missing on my laptop. “I can print this out for you and we can check them off as you go. For many of these, I can give you partial credit if you’re willing to do them and turn them in.”

  She bites her lip and nods. “I can do that.”

  “I think we should backtrack and go over the information from this quarter, and then we’ll see how you’re doing from there on the current lessons.”

  “Okay.”

  Olivia is strangely quiet as I go over information about Mendelian inheritance, which addresses the idea of dominant and recessive genes in organisms that sexually reproduce. I find the topic fascinating, but I can’t tell what she’s thinking at all. She’s not super talkative in class, but she always participates when called on and had—up until nine weeks ago—seemed to understand what we’d been studying.

  “Why don’t we stop here for the day? That way you can go back and do these worksheets on Punnett squares and get those in before we move on. Sound okay?”