Still Not Over You: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  This courtship ended after the first and only date Preston Graves will ever get from me. One date too many.

  “I don’t think so,” Brent says, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Yes, we are,” Preston insists. “Tell him Isabella!”

  Even if I could find my tongue, that’s the last thing I’d admit to.

  A mischievous glint flashes in Brent’s eyes. “She can’t be dating you. She’s dating me.”

  Wait. What?!

  I nearly choke on my own breath.

  Preston tries harder to get loose. “Impossible!”

  Brent spins Preston around so they’re face to face. “Then you probably also believe it’s impossible we’re engaged. And that I’ll beat the fuck out of any man who comes within twenty feet of my fiancée.”

  I'm no stranger to F-words, but that one, on his lips, makes me want to pass out.

  He gives Preston another shove and before I know it, Brent grabs me, one hand on the back of my head, and smashes his lips against mine.

  I'm gone.

  Heat consumes me so swiftly the world melts. His lips are all fire. The blood surging through my veins might be lava.

  My lips part – they never have a chance – and his tongue sweeps into my mouth.

  Hot. Bold. Amazing.

  Brent’s other arm wraps around me, holding my body tight against the length of him. It's like an ice cream cone up against a space heater. My entire body melts down from the inside out.

  Holy hell. This is the kind of kiss every girl dreams about. The take-me-out-of-this-world kind.

  I’m so engrossed several moments flit by before I remember he shouldn’t be kissing me.

  We aren’t alone. I barely know him. He’s my student’s father.

  A dozen other realizations bum-rush my dizzy brain, including Preston’s voice.

  I pull out of the kiss – regretfully. Still too worked up to stand on my own, I lean against Brent, taking a few seconds to let the real world return.

  “No one dumps Preston Graves!” He says numbly, his anger slowly returning. “And that stupid app guaranteed three dates. Three!” He holds up his fingers, as if I don't know how to count.

  Hell, after that kiss, maybe I don't.

  “I can sue. Sue them, and you. Both of you!” He prattles on, stomping a foot like a child not getting his way. “You've made a big mistake, Isabella Derby. You and your thug boyfriend. I'll take every penny you have and – and her teacher’s license. Just watch me. Preston Graves can do that!”

  Brent’s upper lip curls slightly as he shakes his head. “Preston Graves better get the fuck out of here before he needs to sue for medical expenses, too.”

  “Hey! Is there a problem here?”

  I push away from Brent’s side as Oscar Winters and Natalie walk through the door. The poor girl looks bewildered, probably wondering what the hold up is with her dad.

  “Yeah. Big problem,” Brent replies, pointing at Preston. “Did you let his man in the building?”

  “No.” Oscar's face falls, realizing the seriousness. He might not have Brent's rogue good looks, but he's a big man. Over six feet tall and two hundred intimidating pounds, Oscar walks towards Preston. “How did you get in here, sir?”

  “Dear God, are you all clueless? Preston Graves can go anywhere he damn well –”

  “No, he can’t,” Brent interjects. “I don’t know how he got in the building, but I saw him sneaking out of the men’s room. Didn't like the look on his face. I followed.”

  “You're in the wrong place. Let's go.” Oscar grabs Preston’s arm. “I'm truly sorry for this, Ms. Derby. It won’t happen again.”

  “I hope not,” Brent says seriously. “Safety's in your hands.” He nods towards Natalie. “That shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

  “Never, Mr. Eden. You're absolutely right. Believe me, I'll find out how Mr. Graves found his way in. It won't happen a second time.” Oscar tugs Preston towards the door, none too gently.

  Preston appears to have lost some of his arrogance as he crosses the room, at the mercy of two powerful men. But he's still wearing a this-isn’t-over glare I don't like one bit. I roll my shoulders, pretending to stretch. Really, I'm hiding the shiver.

  Brent’s hand slides off my shoulder and down my back. Amazingly comforting.

  “Get your things,” he says quietly. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “I’ll take your sketchpad!” Natalie says cheerfully, ready to chip in.

  Her smile suggests she saw plenty, probably through the small glass window in the classroom door. It also says what just happened hasn't bothered her in the least.

  My cheeks go bright red. I'm more thankful than ever she's mature for her age. At least I don't have to worry about any gossip that could get me in deep, deep doo-doo.

  Still fighting off a nervous tremble, I say, “Thank you.” Then I look at Brent. “That’s not necessary, but thanks. Again. I can find my own way out, Mr. Eden.”

  “No. You're coming to your car with me,” he insists, grabbing my carry-all off the desk. “This everything?”

  He’s no nonsense through and through. The hint of irony in his glare tells me not to argue. So I don’t.

  “Everything,” I echo, stepping forward and taking my sketchpad from Natalie. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Ms. Derby.” With another large grin, she leans in and whispers, “Thank you, too. Dad likes being a hero. Doesn't get to do the whole white knight thing as often as he'd like.”

  “Nat.” There's a hint of a warning in Brent’s tone.

  Natalie shakes her head slightly while her green eyes twinkle. “He’s a good knight, too.”

  Unable to disagree, I nod.

  “Where’s your backpack, baby girl?” Brent asks.

  “Oh! I think I left it in the hallway when you told me to go get Mr. Winters,” Natalie answers.

  “Go get it. We'll wait right here.”

  “Okay, Daddy!” There’s a skip in her step as she hurries towards the door.

  Once again, I’m searching for my tongue as I walk towards the door with Brent by my side. I need to tell him thank you, but I’m afraid I’ll sound like a bubbling idiot.

  “One question: what made you go out with a man who calls himself by his own name?” Brent asks once Natalie's out of earshot.

  Kill me. He's trying to lighten this insanity, I'm sure. Still, full-fledged embarrassment burns my cheeks. “Fuck if I know.” I flinch then and bite my tongue.

  That's not how a teacher speaks. Especially a preschool teacher who does evening art classes for older kids.

  For a second, he cocks his head. Then, to my utter amazement, he laughs. It’s a nice sound. And it breaks the invisible ice surrounding me. “That's a damn good answer, Ms. Derby.”

  “Well...thank you,” I say sheepishly. “I knew I made a mistake. I thought we were done. Tried to let him down easy. Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think he’d show up here.”

  He lifts a brow as we step into the hallway. “Is Preston Graves in your wildest dreams?”

  “Hell no!” I flinch again at my own language. “I mean, no. Gross. He was a match-up from a dating site. One I won’t mention because I’m very dissatisfied.”

  “How many times did you date him?”

  “Once.” I shake my head. “Actually, it was more like a half-date. I didn’t even make it through reading the menu at the place in Scottsdale before I knew I had to cut things short. It had already been too long.”

  My comment reminds him we're probably wasting time, too. He starts walking and I follow.

  Natalie is waiting by the main entrance door with Oscar. It's a long corridor. Brent sees them, but doesn’t seem to be in a hurry.

  “What did you do?” he asks.

  “I laid a twenty on the table to pay for my glass of wine, gave the waitress a big tip, which she highly deserved, and lied.”

  “Lied?”

  “Yes. Lied. I told him it was nice to meet him,
which it wasn't, and then I said I was sorry, but I simply don’t have time to date right now.”

  “When was that?”

  “Almost three weeks ago. He stopped texting me last week when I didn't respond, so I’d hoped it was finally over.” It's embarrassing telling him all this, but it’s the truth, and he deserves that much after coming to my rescue.

  Preston's creepy encounter shook me up more than I want to admit.

  “I have no idea how he got inside, Mr. Eden,” Oscar says as we approach him and Natalie. “The doors were locked. I let everyone in and out and didn’t see him once. I always double check. I'm sure of it!” Oscar looks at me, frustration lining his brow. “He's gone now, Ms. Derby. I escorted him to his car and watched him drive away. I'll gladly do the same for you.”

  “We're good, Oscar. I'm her escort,” Brent says. “Did you search him for a key fob?”

  Oscar’s face falls as he shakes his head. “No, sir, but I’ll make a full report of the security breach. As you know, the academy takes security very seriously.”

  Brent turns to me. “Could he have gotten your key fob?”

  “No. It’s right here.” I pull the badge around my neck out of the top of my shirt. My I.D. card and the key fob dangle off the end. “It hasn’t been out of my sight since I got it two weeks ago. Jesus. This doesn't make any sense...”

  Brent nods, turning back to Oscar. “I suggest you find out who lost a key fob recently and make everyone aware what Preston Graves looks like. Make sure they understand he's not allowed on the premises.”

  Oscar nods. “Of course, sir, I'll do that. I'll stay late. Get the report in the system before I leave.”

  A million questions race through my mind, but I hold them until after we walk outside. The heat still coming off the nighttime pavement makes me want to fan myself. We're off high summer, the hottest time of year, but not to the point where the nights are really comfortable.

  Once we're walking down the long concrete walkway leading to the parking lot, I ask another question I've been holding in. “So, uh, Mr. Eden...are you a detective? A cop, maybe?”

  “No.”

  “He works with cops all the time,” Natalie says. “He owns his own company.”

  I wait for either one of them to add more, but they don’t, and I’m too tongue tied to keep probing. Or too scared.

  Though he came to my rescue, gave me the hottest, most memorable kiss of my life, there are red flags popping up all over. This whole thing is bad news.

  He’s a student’s father. The academy has rules against teacher-family relationships. Pages upon pages of ironclad rules. As the most elite private academy in the county, the wait list to become a student, or to get a job here, is as long as Route 66.

  Landing this preschool position was pure luck. Same as the very part-time accelerated art class I'm filling in for.

  I can’t fuck it up. Cannot. Will not.

  Not even for drop dead sexy men with beast eyes and beards who kiss like they mean business.

  “That your car?” Brent asks.

  Lost in thought, I glance up, nodding. Classic Mustang convertible. Old. Not at all what anyone would expect a teacher to drive. “It was my dad’s.”

  He doesn’t respond physically or verbally, just keeps walking. At the car, he opens the door and looks inside before stepping aside.

  “You should lock your doors.”

  “I usually do.” I’d been running late, trying to get back in time for the evening class and hadn’t, but won’t make that mistake again. I take my bag from him and pull out the keys, then put the carry-all and my sketchpad in the backseat. I make sure to include Natalie as I say, “Thank you both. For everything.”

  “Nah, it was our pleasure, Ms. Derby!” Natalie talks like she’s forty instead of ten. I smile like mad. She steps forward and wraps her arms around my middle. “Please don't be embarrassed. We were really happy to help tonight.”

  Something inside me flutters as I hug her back. It's not everyday you run into good people.

  Our hug ends, and as she steps away, she twists to look at her father. “Weren’t we, Daddy? Happy to help Ms. Derby?”

  The transformation on his face happens again. “Yes, baby girl,” he says. “Thrilled.” His smile fades as he looks at me. “Our truck's right over there. We’ll wait until you drive away. Unless you want us to follow you home?”

  “No!” I flinch at my immediate response. “I mean, that's totally okay. You’ve already done more than enough. Much more. Thank you.”

  Completely unsure what to do, I take a step forward, but pause, not sure if I should shake his hand, or, well, hug him. Some crazy part of me shouts hug.

  Fine. I step forward and give him a quick thank you squeeze.

  His statue stiffness tells me I should've went with hand shake.

  Crap.

  I really am an idiot. But it's not like I have experience handling gorgeous men who pretend-kiss like it's the end of the world.

  “Goodnight, guys!” I spin around and jump in my car, slamming the door shut, before I make this more awkward.

  I wait until they turn around to walk across the three parking spaces between his truck and my car before leaning my forehead against the steering wheel. Mortification overwhelms me.

  Heat does, too. Inside and out. It’s been a brutal summer. Hot and windy, the autumn break can’t come soon enough. Southern Arizona isn't a humid place, but the dry, hundred degree plus days wear on a body and soul.

  I crank the window for fresh air and glance out the opening. There's a car rumbling up beside mine. Not Brent and Natalie's.

  My heart leaps in my throat, but then slides back down where it belongs when I realize who it is.

  Clara. Damn!

  After everything went haywire tonight, I spaced on our plans to meet here so she could drop off one of her famous pies.

  It's too late to stop the chain reaction. I see Brent gesturing furiously at Natalie to get in his truck as he starts walking back towards me. Opening the door, I climb out, hands in front of me. “Whoa, whoa, it’s okay! Nothing scary. This is just my cousin, Clara.”

  Clara doesn’t miss a beat. If she was a curious cat, she'd have lost about all nine lives by now. “Isabella Derby!” She's already shaking her head.

  Oh, God. Here it comes.

  Holding out her hand, she walks straight toward Brent. “Who on Earth is this fine specimen?”

  I run. Around the back end of her car, to her side.

  I’m too late to stop anything. Natalie is already answering, “He’s our hero tonight!”

  Seriously. Where's the hole in the ground? The kind that can swallow a person whole, when we need one?

  “Hero?” Both of Clara’s eyes are wider than an owl's as she looks at me and blinks. “Isabella Derby!”

  Forget the hole in the ground. The brutal smile on her face makes me wish I had one in my head.

  This night truly can't get any worse.

  I love Clara, but she’s the biggest gossip in the family. And I'm not sure Derby blood was ever compatible with privacy.

  “He’s just...the father of one of my students. Nothing to worry about,” I say, adding so much emphasis it hurts my tongue.

  Her smile turns coy as she turns back to Brent. Sticking out her hand even further, she says, “Well, well, it's truly a pleasure. Clara Derby, Big Daddy. How do you do?”

  Brent shakes her hand with an uneasy smile. I just close my eyes and pray for this day to be over. It's cursed. From the very second my alarm went off this morning.

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Derby.” I hear him say. Then, “I'm afraid I have to run. Good seeing Isabella with a friend.”

  He gives me a knowing glance. I die once under his striking eyes, and again when I hear how my name sounds on his lips.

  “Brent,” I whisper. His name, rather than Mr. Eden, tastes wonderful in my mouth, too.

  “Goodnight, Ladies.”

  My eyes snap open and I wa
tch him walk to the truck. Clara’s mouth drops.

  I want to laugh. As painful as this is, it's so ridiculous it's kinda surreal.

  Nerves. Has to be. Yet, in my defense, the way he didn’t give Clara what she wanted, a name to Google, is comical.

  He climbs into his truck and starts the engine.

  Clara turns to me, mouth still hanging open and eyes wide. Her silence only lasts a nano-second.

  “OMG!” she hisses. “He’s to die for, Izzy!”

  I can’t agree. Well, I can, but I won’t.

  I still can't believe I forgot about her stupid pie.

  Fuck. This is turning out to be the night of unwanted company to the nth degree.

  Clara’s long dark hair whips in the wind as she turns to his truck and then back to me. “Where? How? How long? Is he your dating site match-up guy? Why didn't you tell me you'd matched a ten out of ten hunk, lady?”

  “What? No, no, no, and no!” I try to wipe out all her rapid fire questions at once.

  “You're terrible for holding out on me. I thought we were family! You never said how your date turned out – mighty good by the looks of him. I mean, it.”

  I shake my head. “Clara, it's late. I should be getting home.”

  “I brought you a pie! Coconut cream.” Clara winks, reaching in the door she’d left open, her car still running. “Your favorite. I made a couple for dinner, and everyone agreed I should drop one off since you missed out. You're welcome, cuz.”

  Just great. I don’t even like coconut cream pie that much.

  Like most everything about the family dinners, I pretend I do to keep the peace. Then, a solid escape opportunity dawns on me. “Awesome!” I snatch the pie from her hand, feigning joy. “Better go before this melts. Have a nice night, Clara!”

  “You really need a new car, Izzy. One with modern air conditioning.”

  “Someday, when I can afford it.” I hold up the pie and smile as if I can’t wait to bite into it. “Mmmm, supper! Thanks again.”

  I’m half way to my car, when her question stops me.

  “Does your mama know about Big Daddy?”

  I spin around as my stomach hits the ground. “Nope. And that's the way it's gonna stay because there isn’t anything to know.”

  “He’s still sitting there. Watching.” She smiles, nods toward their truck, and does a small wave.