Teacher I Want To Date Read online

  “Oh, there’s Miss Cruz.”

  I blinked down at my niece and nodded. “Yeah, uh … yeah, Miss Cruz.”

  Her eyebrows pulled together at the sound of me stuttering, and then she sprinted down the aisle. “I think we should say hi.”

  I was in a trance. “Hi … yeah, hi would be good.”

  I moved along as Mary rushed toward Sarah’s teacher.

  When Gabby’s eyes met Mary’s, she smiled. Then, her eyes moved to mine, and that same smile slipped.

  Shit.

  Why couldn’t I take a hint? We hadn’t matched, and she’d already told me that she didn’t want to date me. How many rejections could a man take?

  Plus, I’d just gotten out of a serious relationship. The last thing I needed was to jump into a new one, right? Why couldn’t my stubborn ass get this through my thick, stubborn skull?

  Despite my weak pep talk, I couldn’t stop staring at her. She was breathtaking and fiery and fun and everything I needed in my life.

  “Miss Cruz,” Mary said, bouncing up and down.

  Gabby hung up with whoever was on the other line, and she stuffed her phone into her purse.

  “Mary … and Mason.” She popped out a hip, her tone playful. “I’m starting to think this is not coincidental. First, the school, then the speed-dating, and now, at the grocery store.”

  “School? Speed-dating. You went on a fast date?” Mary threw me a knowing smile.

  “I did. We didn’t match.” The words flew bitterly off the end of my tongue, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

  “Yeah …” Gabby teetered back and forth, and her gaze dropped to the floor, anywhere but to my face. “It’s not you, Mason, I swear. Even though I thought we did match, I don’t think we can go there.”

  I froze. Did she just say that we were compatible?

  “Why not?” There was no time for beating around the bush. Let’s get to the point. Playing games was not in my vocabulary. Did I look like Brad?

  Her gaze flew to Mary, who grinned all of a sudden. “Adult conversation. Got it. I’ll be over here, reading the labels on the chips. Uncle Mason, can we have chips if they have a good sodium content?”

  “Yeah, yeah, sure.” My eyes never left Gabby’s face.

  “I just got out of a relationship.”

  “So did I.”

  She laughed, and, man, it was a beautiful laugh.

  “Which proves my point even more. We should not be getting into anything when we are both damaged.”

  “How about these?” Mary said, popping up from who knew where.

  “That’s fine.” I grabbed the chips and placed the bag in the cart.

  “Are you sure? Don’t put it in the cart unless you’re sure,” Mary said, evident sass in her tone.

  “Sure, Mary.”

  Pleased, she scampered off again toward the chips.

  When she was out of earshot, I said, “Who said I was damaged? I broke up with her. And you’re not damaged.” I gave her a once-over. “You’re perfect.”

  A blush touched her cheeks, and she moved a strand of hair that had fallen from her messy bun to her cheek, as if hiding from my compliment. You couldn’t hide straight-up, in-your-face beauty. Not like hers.

  “Mason, you know nothing about me.”

  “Which is why I want to get to know you.” Here I was, putting myself out there again, when she’d rejected me more times than I’d like to admit.

  I felt a tug on my shirt.

  “Cookies? I know we said we’d bake brownies, but it’s getting late, and if we don’t have time, then I really want these Chips Ahoy.”

  “It’s fine, Mary. It’s fine.” I gave our cart a little push down the aisle. “Get whatever you want. Fill up the cart.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I have your phone? Because I’m going to get Sarah cookies too.”

  I dazedly placed my phone in Mary’s hand. “Just give us a few minutes. Please. But stay in this aisle.”

  I turned toward Gabby. “I’m not talking marriage. I’m not talking relationship.”

  Gabby’s gaze darted to the chips, to the floor, to Mary, to anywhere but me. “I get it. You’re attracted to me. I’m attracted to you too. But I really don’t think”—she sighed and then looked over my shoulder—“we should be dating or kissing or doing anything else.” She gave me a look. “You get what I’m saying.”

  She wouldn’t even take me as a one-night stand. Great. Did she just say she was attracted to me? I guessed that lessened the blow of yet another rejection.

  I took a step forward, leaning into her. “I’m talking about one date. One small date, where I take you to dinner and we have a nice conversation and I try to get to know you a little more.” Hopefully, one date would turn into two dates. And knowing me and my planning-to-the-T abilities, the likelihood of a second date based on past performances was 92.69%.

  “Mason …”

  I took her one hand in mine and swung it between us. “I’m a nice guy. I know that’s a weird thing to try to sell you on and an even weirder thing to say, but I’m trying here. I like you. I think you’re attractive and funny, and I’m kind of addicted to your laugh. So …”

  “Uncle Mason! I’m done!” The cart catapulted down the aisle with Mary riding it as she held one hand straight up in the air like she was Zorro. “You told me I could get what I wanted. There’re no take-backs.”

  The cart was overflowing with junk food, and I cringed. This girl was slick.

  “And if Miss Cruz doesn’t want to go out with you, you can go out with Miss Stacia, my teacher. She’s nice, and she brings us chocolates. I’m sure I can get her to go out with you.”

  Great. She heard me practically begging. We needed to have a conversation in the car, so this wouldn’t get back to my brothers.

  My eyes widened, and I shot her a look. “Thank you, but I don’t need your help, Miss Mary.”

  Mary jumped off the cart, pursed her lips, and placed one sassy hand on her hip. “No offense, Uncle Mason, but it doesn’t look like you’re doing so hot right now.” Then, she dabbed to prove a point.

  Gabby let out a peal of laughter, and I drank it all up.

  She turned to Gabby. “Miss Cruz, my uncle is super nice. I mean, he told you that already, but I shall have you know, he buys me whatever I want, except for food because he believes in a clean and green diet. He doesn’t like us eating a lot of carbs, but fresh vegetables and foods with a lot of protein.” I threw her an amused look, and she kept on going, “But besides that, he loves spending time with us, riding bikes, teaching us our homework, doing projects. He’s the guy you call when you need your math homework done. At least, that’s what Sarah says. He’s the guy who will come over to babysit us when Daddy and Becky are out of town. We didn’t like his other girlfriend because she was mean. Every time she was over, it was like she didn’t want me around.”

  I blinked at Mary, all humor erased from my face. My stomach sank to the floor and my throat constricted. Why hadn’t I seen this, sensed this? Mary had never told me before. I’d never gotten an inkling that Janice had made Mary or Sarah feel unwelcome.

  Mary lifted her shoulders to her ears and shrugged. “But you, Miss Cruz, don’t seem like you’re like that. You’re nice, he’s nice, and nice people should be together. So, give him a chance.” Then, she smiled, laying on the charm, and placed her hands together under her chin in a praying stance. “Please … just give the guy a chance.”

  Gabby rolled her eyes and sighed overly loud. “Okay … okay. After that publicity stunt, how can I say no?”

  Really? Yes! I grinned from ear to ear.

  Mary was my golden ticket. Mary had won me a date with Gabby.

  Gabby smiled. “Give me your phone.”

  Mary handed Gabby my phone, and Gabby plugged in her number.

  She smirked. “I’ll see you guys later.” She patted Mary’s hair before throwing me a flirty gl
ance. “And, Mason, call me.”

  Holy shit.

  “Mary …” My voice trailed off as I watched Gabby’s hips shake all the way down the aisle.

  “I know,” she said with way too much confidence. “I’m good. You owe me a tub of ice cream for that.”

  I laughed, lifting my niece into my arms. She squealed, unprepared. I kissed her adorable, round cheeks.

  “Every flavor you want, kid.” I rubbed my nose against hers. “And know this … I always want you around. Never forget it.”

  Gabby

  “That guy from the speed-dating thing? Him?” Martina laughed beside me.

  “Yes, him. Is there a problem with him?” I took the clothes from the dryer and passed them to Martina to fold.

  “No problem.” She laughed again. “I mean … he doesn’t seem like your type.”

  I hip-checked her. “And how would you know my type?”

  Martina had never shown interest in who I was dating.

  “I’m your sister, remember?” Martina neatly folded the shirts and piled them on top of the dryer. “Your type is loud, obnoxious, and always the center of attention.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That was before.” With Mike and the heartbreak he’d caused. “You’re describing one person.” A pang initiated in my chest, more from underlying anger than hurt. I averted my gaze to hide my emotions from my sister, who could read everything on my face.

  “I never did like him,” she said softly and honestly.

  I turned to face her this time. “Martina”—I gawked—“you, not like someone? Impossible.”

  She squared her shoulders. “I didn’t. He never treated you like a queen. And out of anyone, you deserve to be put up on a pedestal.”

  I stared into her hazel eyes; they were so similar to mine, so similar to my grandmother’s. I pulled her in, needing the contact. “Thank you.” I swallowed a lump in the back of my throat. “Martina”—I sighed sadly—“if you only knew what I’d done”—pictures of Mike and his wife and his kids flashed behind my closed eyes—“you’d never forgive me. Mama would never forgive me,” I whispered.

  Martina squeezed me tighter and held me closer for a few minutes. Then, she pulled back and cupped my face. “If that relationship ended, then it had to. And I know you like you know me. You did nothing wrong; I’m sure of it.”

  I blinked back tears. She was right. I hadn’t known what I was doing. I hadn’t known the bastard had a family. I let out a long breath, realizing I’d needed to hear it, that this wasn’t my fault, that I couldn’t have foreseen this. Mike was the liar, not me.

  I reached into the dryer before I broke down again. I’d been crying myself to sleep for months, the guilt eating at my insides. Nothing would erase it. I wished I had seen the signs.

  “Anyway …” I laughed awkwardly, trying to get the attention off of me. “Did he call you? What’s his name again, Kyle?”

  Martina had matched with one guy, the only number she’d placed on her card. Me, on the other hand, I hadn’t written down a single number. I’d been there for Martina, not for myself, but lo and behold, I was going on a date.

  “Yes, Kyle.” A blush touched Martina’s cheeks. “He’s cute. Like, so, so, so cute.”

  I gave her a look. Well now … Martina never thought anyone was attractive. This girl had the highest standards. Not like my standards were low, but given that I couldn’t remember the last—or first time—Martina had gone on a date, this was new.

  “We’re just talking on the phone now,” she said with a small grin. “We’re both trying to figure out when we’re free.”

  “I think I’d like to formally interview him first.” There was sass in my voice. “Is he worthy of Martina Isabella Cruz?”

  She laughed. “Only time will tell. But I think I like this one.”

  I took more clothes from the dryer, assisting her with the folding. “Well, I’m going to meet him soon, I hope. He’ll need the Cruz seal of approval.”

  She lifted the folded pile of clothes in her arms, pressing her chin to the top. “We haven’t even met for our first date yet. And don’t change the subject on me. When is your first date with Suit and Tie?”

  “Suit and Tie?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, didn’t you notice he was wearing a suit and tie to the event? He was the only guy there in a full-suit salute. Everyone else was business casual.”

  “It just seems like he’s the formal type,” I said.

  Martina gave me a cheeky grin. “Or uptight.”

  I laughed and scrunched my nose. “Maybe that too.”

  My phone rang with a number plugged in nights before, and then my heartbeat picked up in speed as I simply stared.

  Martina playfully nudged me with her shoulder. “That face. I wish I could take a picture. Take the call and go easy on Suits, okay?”

  “Okay.” I picked up on the third ring and placed the cell on my ear. “Hey.”

  Chapter 12

  Mason

  I paced the length of my living room and wiped my sweaty palm against my khakis. The moment I heard her voice, my pulse picked up in tempo. It was as if I were a teenage boy who had never been on a date before. But in my defense, I hadn’t been on many dates. I’d gone from a date to a serious relationship in high school and again in college.

  “Hey. It’s Mason. Your secret stalker.” My tone was playful because she didn’t know that there were half-truths in that statement.

  She laughed a beautiful laugh, and it eased me but only just a tad. “I have so many. I can’t keep track.”

  It was my turn to laugh. I wanted to tell her I’d continued to think of her, but if that wasn’t the most stalkerish thing to say, I didn’t know what was.

  “What are you doing on this fine Sunday?”

  “Stalkers are supposed to ask what I’m wearing.”

  Anything she wore would look good on her. She’d looked hot in sweats and a T-shirt at the grocery store.

  “A gentleman says one thing but thinks another,” I joked. I blew out a silent breath and rested my forehead against my window overlooking the city below me.

  “Right now, I’m at home, folding clothes with Martina—who, by the way, matched with some guy,” she said excitedly.

  “Mission accomplished.” I closed my eyes and tapped my head against the glass pane. Words had never come easily for me, especially when I was trying to impress a girl. But what I did do was honesty, and before I could stop it, the words were out. “I still can’t believe you didn’t match with me. After we got along so well.”

  “Don’t tell me that, within our five-minute conversation, you knew I was the one.”

  I didn’t know. All I knew was that I wanted to spend time with this fiery firecracker. “What I know is that you were the one who denied me.”

  “Mason …” Her tone was apologetic. “I told you I was there for Martina. I didn’t match with anyone.”

  I pushed myself off the glass and paced the room again, breathing a sigh of relief. At least she hadn’t matched with Henley Guy. She hadn’t put anyone down as a match.

  I picked a tiny piece of paper up from the floor and walked it to my trash can. I could see my reflection in the gleam of my hardwood floor, having waxed them the day before. Even though I could afford a maid service, I preferred to clean myself because they couldn’t do the job as well as I wanted them to. I always ended up cleaning right after they cleaned.

  “Which brings me to the most important question: what are you doing next Saturday?”

  I walked to the side table where I’d been taking notes on the most perfect date. I had it all planned out—dinner at Macatti’s, a well-known Italian restaurant, followed by a show at the Lasalle Theater to watch Jersey Boys and ending at a dessert bar.

  “Let me check my calendar.” It took her about two seconds to answer, which made me wonder if she even had a calendar handy. “Well, it must be your lucky day because I’m free.”

  “Great.” My chest f
looded with relief. “What do you think about dinner and a show?” I picked up the pen and underlined Macatti’s. I’d have to make sure to grab reservations today.

  “Didn’t you say you love dancing? How about we go salsa dancing instead?”

  The pen slipped from my hand. Wait. What? No. “Uh …”

  “No, Mason, it’ll be great,” she insisted. “I haven’t been in weeks. Ask your brother; maybe he’d like to go.”

  I cleared my throat. “I don’t think …”

  “Come on, Mason,” she said, her voice coaxing. “It’ll be fun. And I know this Mexican restaurant right by the club, or we can go to this other club that serves food. Then, after dinner, it’s transformed into a nightclub.”

  Club?

  “Come on …” she pleaded.

  This was the worst possible situation I could have gotten myself into, and before I could take it back, I said, “Sure.” Then, I slapped my head.

  Her excitement over the phone could not be contained, and it was almost worth it to agree with her. Almost. Until I remembered I couldn’t dance. Wasn’t I always telling Sarah and Mary that they shouldn’t lie?

  “Great. I’ll see you on Saturday. I’ll text you my address.”

  “Sounds good. Text me.” My face scrunched so hard that it hurt.

  As soon as I hung up the phone, I stared at my perfectly well-planned date, picked up the pen, and placed a big X over all of it. On the top, I wrote, Dancing. Right next to it, I wrote, Make an appointment for salsa lessons.

  I should have predicted this … that everything that had anything to do with Gabby could not be planned.

  Mason

  I’d ironed my button-down shirt and new black slacks, the line in my pants sharp and nicely pressed. I had five pairs of black pants, but given that this was my first real date in a long time, what I currently had in my closet was not good enough.

  For the last week, I’d been watching “Salsa 101” on YouTube. There had been no lessons that I could work into my schedule unless I wanted to take private lessons in the conference room during my lunch break. I’d looked into this, and I had been right about to book a high-profile salsa instructor until it dawned on me that playing loud salsa music in our conference room, which you could see into, would cause the gossip wheel in the office to turn.