Teacher I Want To Date Page 6

  “Find something funny?”

  I shook my head and stared at my newly shone shoes. Why couldn’t I keep my face steady, poker face–style like Brad or even-keeled like my older brother, Charles?

  Who cares if she’s single? She’s crazy!

  “Okay. Yeppers peppers,” she said. “Here it is.” She plopped down, and her chest bounced when she hit the seat.

  My stare immediately went to the floor. Why are you looking at your niece’s teacher’s boobs? Bad idea, Mason.

  “What’s a bad idea?” she quizzically asked me.

  I cleared my throat. “Nothing. Anyway … Sarah.” I motioned to her documents in front of her.

  “Yes.” Her smile was genuine this time, and it made her whole face light up, which had me leaning in closer.

  I rested my elbows on my knees as she flipped through her papers.

  “Your niece is a joy to have. She’s smart and sweet, and she gets along with everyone. She’s a genius when it comes to algebra. Her scores for math are through the roof.”

  The corner of my lips pulled upward.. “She gets that from me. I have my CPA.” Great. And not only was I flexing muscles for this woman, but I was also reciting my résumé.

  “Riiight.” She dragged out the word and nodded slowly. “The only thing is, she’s super shy. When we have oral presentations, she clams up. She stares at the floor and talks to the floor. I get it.” She handed me her report card. “She’s just a shy girl, but I’m trying to break her out of that, and that’s why I put her on the Halloween dance committee.”

  That was why Sarah and I got along so well. It was as if we’d been cut from the same cloth. I’d never been the outgoing brother. That was more Brad and Charles.

  “She never told me she was part of the dance committee.” The thought troubled me because Sarah practically told me everything.

  I hated that we were drifting apart. I’d been feeling the distance, even before this mall debacle.

  “Yeah, she’s doing great,” she said proudly, “and now that I made her head of the committee, her friends are joining in the fun too.”

  The heaviness in my chest spread to my throat. “That’s great.” My tone came out softer, and a sadness leaked through, though I tried to stop it.

  Gabby tilted her head and assessed me, her eyebrows pulling in. “Did you clear things up with Sarah?”

  I picked at some lint on the creased part of my pants and gritted my teeth. “No. Not exactly. She’s not talking to me.”

  I’d had good intentions. Someday, she’d definitely understand, but I couldn’t wait for someday. I needed things fixed now.

  “You’ll have to give her some space.” She leaned back in her chair and shrugged. “That’s just how kids are.”

  Space? We’re already drifting. Why would I give her an opportunity to hate me even more?

  I thought about it for a moment. “Do you have enough volunteers for the school dance?”

  If Liam was going to be there and Sarah was there, so was I. But I wouldn’t be hiding this time; I’d be out in the open.

  Gabby tilted her head and made strong eye contact. “Do you do that often? Only hear what you want to hear? I said, give her space, not crowd her.”

  “Do you need another volunteer or not?” I snapped, a little more attitude seeping through.

  Who was she? And what did she really know? She didn’t have kids, and just because she taught them didn’t mean she knew how things were when you were this close with a kid.

  She looked to the ceiling, blew out a breath, and started speaking to herself in Spanish, and it was driving me crazy, not knowing what the hell was coming out of her fiery mouth. I vowed to learn a little Spanish via Rosetta Stone. I was going to buy the app as soon as I left here.

  “Fine,” she said in English but still talking to the ceiling.

  “Is that a yes?”

  She stood and teetered on her unstable, probably sprained foot. She pointed a finger at me and went into her spiel in Spanish, which I didn’t understand.

  This time, it pissed me off. I stood and towered over her. She went on her toes, wagging her finger upward at me, trying to meet my height, but she was no match.

  “You know this is your fault, right?”

  Because it was her fault. Straight up. If she hadn’t busted me in front of Sarah and her friends, none of this would have happened.

  Her face turned beet red. She used the desk to steady herself and got directly in my face. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m totally serious.” Man, this woman was getting under my skin. More than that, she was hot, doing it. “If you hadn’t outed me, then everything between Sarah and me would be fine right now.”

  Her eyes went wide, and her hands fisted by her sides. I flinched when she shoved a finger into my chest, touching me. I thought she was going to smack me as a slew of Spanish swear words flew out of her mouth. Those words I knew.

  I had to hold in a laugh because it was so entertaining. My new favorite thing to do was getting Gabby mad.

  She stepped gingerly on her injured ankle and cussed endlessly, her breath warm and her words spilling fast, never stopping.

  The sweet scent of her filled my nose, and I watched her lips move lightning fast and her eyes fill with fury.

  And I couldn’t help myself. Without thinking, I pulled her finger toward me, and I kissed her.

  Chapter 7

  Gabby

  One minute, I had been yelling at Mason, and the next minute, his lips were on mine.

  He pulled back, his eyes going wide, stunned he’d even done that. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  Then, I slapped him, which stunned me more. It was an automatic reaction from having one too many aggressive guys hit on me at the club.

  “I deserved tha—” he started to say, but before he could finish, I pulled him into me and kissed him, needing his lips on mine again, his warm mouth on mine.

  His reaction was automatic, without hesitation. His fingers gripped my waist and pulled me into him, yet it wasn’t enough. I needed more.

  Maybe it was all the havoc Mike had been wreaking in my life or maybe it was the stress from the day or maybe it was because Mason was a shockingly great kisser. Oh my goodness. His lips and mouth were heavenly.

  He lifted me by the waist—or maybe I hopped onto him. Either way, he guided me onto my back, laying me across my desk.

  The papers crunched beneath the weight of us, but he never broke contact. I threaded my fingers through his hair, and he moaned against my mouth.

  Okay, Mason Brisken had to be the best kisser I’d ever had. Like, ever. And I’d kissed a great deal of men before because I enjoyed the art of kissing.

  He paid equal attention to my bottom lip as he did my top. His sweet, sensual kisses were dragging me into a state of nirvana.

  And then a noise at the door had us both jerking our heads up.

  It was the janitor.

  As soon as he saw us in the most compromising position, he scooted off on his way.

  “Crap.” I hoped to goodness the janitor wouldn’t say anything. Knowing Ben, who stayed mostly to himself, I doubted he would, but still … this would not look good if he did. My fingers flew to my parted lips. “Well, that was interesting, to say the least.” My heart was beating a million beats a minute.

  When I attempted to scoot off the desk, Mason stilled me by firmly holding me by my waist.

  “Go out with me,” he said, eyes firm, almost pleading.

  I blinked up at him. Is he serious?

  After a beat, I realized he was.

  “Yeah, that can never happen.” There was no way I could go out with my student’s uncle, and I was not ready to jump into another relationship after everything that had happened with Mike.

  Mason

  I stood and helped her up from the desk.

  Well … that was … awesome. But what the hell was wrong with me? I’d just harassed the enemy and then mad
e out with her on her desk.

  That was an out-of-body experience.

  When she laughed, I realized I’d said it out loud.

  The brightest blush touched her cheeks.

  I shook my head and rubbed the back of my neck. “Sorry. That was not supposed to happen. I’ve never spontaneously kissed a woman out of the blue or made out with someone in public like this.”

  “Never?” She looked genuinely surprised.

  I frowned. “Yes, never.”

  Because my dates, from taking them out to kisses to sex, had always been planned and coordinated romantic events. That was how I rolled. In everyday life and in my love life as well.

  “Well, that’s boring.” She tried to suppress a smile but failed.

  It didn’t faze me. I’d been called boring before. If planned and calculated was boring, I’d take it.

  “So, you take these women on dates, and whenever you’re ready, you forewarn them?” This time, she didn’t try hiding her smile.

  I blinked and then double-blinked. “Well, yeah. Sometimes, I ask them right before. Some women think that’s very gentlemanly.” It was a fact. They’d told me this.

  She snorted. Actually snorted. Like a pig. A very cute pig.

  My gaze dropped back to her lips, and an absurd thought rang through my mind. I wanted to kiss her again and not ask her … again. “But that offer, about the date, it still stands.” I was waving a white flag this time, willing to make friends with the enemy because, really … how could you not with a woman who could kiss like Gabby?

  She scooted off the desk and pointed a shaky finger at me. “You … you are a very funny man.” Then, her smile slipped. “But no. Just no.”

  “Is it because I’m not your type?” In that moment, I wondered what her type was.

  Her forehead wrinkled, and she tipped her chin, thoughtful. “I don’t actually have a type. I’ve dated all different races and men with jobs from waiters to CEOs. I just want to date a nice guy, and that doesn’t ever seem to work in my favor.” She muttered under her breath, and then she reached for the papers behind herself and handed them to me. “I won’t date you, but you can volunteer at the dance. So, thanks.” On one foot, she turned me to face the door. “Let’s pretend that didn’t happen.”

  Pretend? Unlikely. Especially since I wanted to do that again—and real soon.

  Gabby

  I walked into my house in a total daze because Mason Brisken and his undeniable lips had put me there. I could still feel the heat of his gaze upon my face, the sizzle of electricity between us, and the fire of his lips against mine.

  I opened the door of my house and walked in on my extended family scattered in the living room. I waved to Carlos, Jose, and Juan—some of my cousins gathered on the couch or seated on the floor—and strolled straight into the kitchen to find the birthday girl—my grandmother.

  The aroma of spices and meats mixed with onions filtered through the air as soon as I walked into my house. If I hadn’t been born into my big Mexican family, I’d never be used to the volume of noise. Our voices carried over the room into the kitchen, where my tias and tios were seated, laughing and talking over each other. When we all got together, there was no way all of us could fit at the dining room table, so my tias and tios were all in the kitchen, and the cousins were scattered among the dining room and in the living room.

  I kissed my mama on the cheek before reaching my grandmother seated at our round kitchen table.

  “Gabby!” Abuela called to me. “Come sit by me.”

  Everyone seemed to have their plates and were already eating.

  Martina peeked up from her plate. “We tried calling you. We started early. Tia Silvia has to leave early, so we moved the celebration up a bit.”

  I gritted my teeth into a forced smile. “My phone broke. I had to get it fixed.”

  I’d gone over to AT&T right after school, and it’d only taken three hours for them to realize that the phone was broken. Now, I had to retrieve all the information from this phone, so I could transfer it to the new phone I had to buy. It was my fault, but I was so annoyed with myself.

  I took my plate, filled it with tacos and rice and beans, and proceeded to sit by my grandma. Our Lady of Perpetual Help necklace hung thick and heavy around her neck like a medal she’d won. On her right hand, her rosary bracelet clung to her fragile wrist.

  “Mija, you haven’t come to visit me in a while.”

  It’d been weeks since I visited mi abuela. Usually, I’d stop by the local bakeshop and get her favorite empanadas or pick her up from bingo at the church, but Martina, my sister, had been doing it for me recently.

  “Where’s Mike?”

  I averted my eyes, and my stomach dropped. This was exactly why I hadn’t been to visit her. I bit my bottom lip and stuffed a spoonful of rice in my mouth, looking anywhere but into her eyes. I’d never in my life brought anyone home to meet the matriarch of our family. Mike had been the only one. He’d bonded with my grandmother over her empanadas and her love of chocolate. In the beginning, I’d made excuses for him because, in my heart, I’d always thought we’d end up together. That was then—before I’d found out the truth.

  “We broke up.” I stared at the plate of food in front of me. Steak tacos were my favorite, but suddenly, I’d lost my appetite.

  She lifted my chin with her delicate, slender fingers, and I was forced to look at her.

  “I knew he wasn’t good enough for you.” Her voice was soft, yet there was fire in her eyes, a deep hazel that I’d inherited.

  If she only knew the half of it. My heart seized. I didn’t like to fail in life, but this relationship had been a failure. I’d thought we had something. So much so that I had finally decided to introduce him to my abuela.

  “What happened?” Her voice turned sympathetic.

  “Nothing you have to worry about.” I patted her hand on my cheek and offered a small smile. “I’ll be just fine. Plus, I think Alma is dead set on getting married before me.”

  I glanced over at Alma, disconnected from the rest of the family but on the phone, as always. I’d bet she was talking to her new boy toy.

  “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything?”

  She held my one hand within both of hers. At eighty-two, her hands were still strong, still full of life. “You’ll find someone. I’ve been saying the rosary and novena for you. That you will find the perfect man. Someone who is neat to your messy, someone who is tame to your wild, someone who will love you unconditionally.”

  I kissed her cheek and smiled. My grandmother, she was sweet. And yes, only divine intervention would send me a man like that. But I prayed, hoped … maybe her prayers would work.

  * * *

  Two hours later, after a belly full of the best home-cooked meal and cake, everyone was lounging and playing games. My cousins’ kids were laughing and playing el balero when the doorbell rang. I was playing Legos with Maria, my four-year-old niece, when Martina rushed toward me and gave me a look, tilting her head toward the door.

  I kissed Maria’s cheek and stood from the floor. “What?” I asked Martina.

  She blinked and pursed her lips toward the door in a knowing way.

  I rolled my eyes. Could she be more cryptic? And I wondered why she didn’t have a boyfriend. She needed to use her words more.

  With a sigh, I headed to the door. When I stepped outside, the blood in my veins ran cold.

  Mike.

  He was grinning as he held out a dozen red roses, as though we were celebrating our anniversary.

  The nerve of this man, showing up to my house as though everything were right between us.

  I peered back at the party still going on inside, closed the door behind me, and stepped closer to the curb.

  “What are you doing here?” My fingers clenched and unclenched at my sides. “I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

  “Nena, don’t be like this.”

  He extended the flowers to me
, and I slapped them to the side.

  He flinched, and the smile slipped from his features. “You wouldn’t come see me, so I came to you. I just want you to hear me out.”

  My body tensed, heat flushing in every part of me. What didn’t this guy understand? I stepped into him and lowered my voice. Anger poured out of me in waves, and my fingers trembled. “Hear you out?” I seethed. “I heard quite clearly when your wife sent me pictures of you and your family. I doubt there is anything that you can do or say or buy that can justify you lying to me for months,” I spat, my nostrils flaring.

  I’d dated and slept with this man. I had fallen in love with him—a married man. I was so ashamed and embarrassed and so many other things that I could spit nails. My heart was broken. I wanted to breathe fire. How could he have done this to me? To his wife? To his kids? I was utterly disgusted with this man. But he wasn’t a man. No man treated anyone this way.

  “I don’t love her. I love you.” His voice was gentle, sweet, coaxing, the way he’d talk to me after we made love.

  I wondered if my father had said the same thing to his new wife right before he upped and left my mother to raise three girls on her own. I wondered what the outcome would have been if his new wife had been as strong as I was. Maybe then, our family would still be together.

  “I don’t care.” Because I didn’t. I hated him for putting me in this situation and lying to me, so much so that there was no love in me left. “What I feel for you is nothing short of hate.”

  Our love had been built on a lie because he’d kept everything from me while he lived his double life.

  “Get out of here!” I yelled. My whole body trembled, heat flushing through every part of me. I pointed to his car parked on the street. “Leave!”

  My breaths came in and out in big, long puffs, and in two seconds, I was about to cry as the fury overtook me. My heart was ragged, and seeing him again was ripping me wide open. I’d guarded myself against this, against this heartache. It had taken months to get some semblance of myself back. And I wouldn’t let him bring me back to months ago, when all-out depression had taken over.