Chapter 8
T here are so many things I hate about this moment, I’d find it difficult to rate them in order of importance if they didn’t all center around one person. Ellery Chambers. Or is it Wilde as the plaque outside the door said?
I can’t stop myself from glaring at Stella’s new history and wellness teacher while she talks, presenting her syllabi to all the parents in the room and discussing her plan for the year.
They’re eating out of the palm of her hand, and half the women in this room don’t eat, or like other women who are prettier than they are—which she is.
The men are worse. They’re unabashedly staring at her—regardless of their wives being right by their sides—clinging to the way her perfect tits show off just the tiniest hint of a lace bra beneath the cream silk of her blouse.
A lace bra I likely saw scattered on the ground outside her house the other night. Or possibly the same one I removed from her body in the dark of her hotel room. And now my cock is getting hard in my scrubs, and let me tell you, scrubs hide nothing.
Other than when I first entered the room and noted her shock, the woman hasn’t acknowledged me. I might as well not be here for all the attention I’ve garnered. I’m Patrick Swayze in Ghost. I’m here, but am I really?
I wasn’t prepared.
Considering her reflected surprise, I highly doubt she had Stella today in her class.
I’m not sure if I’m grateful she was equally blindsided or not.
I came here straight from the hospital and haven’t even had a chance to shower or change clothes or eat a meal or to see my daughter and ask how her day was.
Does Stella even know that her teacher is our new neighbor?
The neighbor I had sex with—that part I know she definitely doesn’t know. The neighbor I absolutely despise for being so sweet and bubbly and perfect when I know it’s an act. It has to be.
She’s cried herself to sleep both nights since she moved in.
How does she do it? How does she put on this front? Smile through the bullshit? Or is her sadness just a temporary blip, a red herring I’m falling for, and she’s actually, truly like this?
I can’t decide which is worse.
All I know is that I’m annoyed. And turned on, which is annoying me further. Perhaps even more than her full-on laugh and glowing smile at something nimrod Chad Vandelay just said when we all know he’s not nearly that funny.
My fists clench, and I grumble under my breath.
“No. That’s definitely not part of the curriculum.”
She’s still laughing. He’s smiling at her like a sexual predator.
Some weird noise escapes from my larynx.
“I’m sorry, did you say something, Dr. Fritz?” she asks with that saccharine voice, all sunshine and fucking unicorns. Dr. Fritz. Not Landon.
Every head in the room swooshes in my direction.
I glance down at the sheet in my hand. “What is your teaching experience prior to coming here?” Expectantly, I look back up at her.
She frowns. Turns red. And I realize once again, I’m a supreme dick. But how can I not be? I’ve trained myself to be numb, but with her I can’t help but feel again. The throb of a fresh wound after the lidocaine wears off. It’s awful.
Elle clears her throat. “If you’re interested in discussing my résumé, Dr. Fritz, I’m sure we can do that at a more opportune time, or please feel free to email me to schedule an appointment during my office hours.
But for now, I think everyone here is anxious to get home for the night and would prefer discussing their children and this school year. ”
I get the two can play at this game raised eyebrow and the you’re a fucking asshole glare.
Another grumble hits my lips and once more I’m quickly overlooked.
One more set of parents filter in and out of her room, going to their children’s last classroom—as I should be—and yet I can’t make my feet move.
I can’t work my limbs. Stella has always been an A student and frankly, I don’t need to meet with her art teacher to know she’ll receive a top-rated education this year.
It’s why I pay a college tuition for middle school.
But with this new group, I stay rooted in place, staring. At her.
My unremitting presence drives Elle mad. She was hoping I’d leave like everyone else just did, but I’m still here, hovering in the background, pressing upon her every cool nerve that I want to set on fire.
Does she have any clue?
I was in control.
Now I stand by my open bedroom window at night listening for her . Thinking about her .
Elle giggles at whatever nonsense Richard Hargrove just said to her, her hand reaching out and squeezing his forearm, and my lungs collapse, nearly choking me.
She’s temptation and everyone in here knows it.
All it takes for them to want her is to look at her.
Her laugh. That smile. An impossible piece of hidden lace.
Fucking vixen.
Which is why the second the class empties, everyone in the building now heading home, I pry myself away from the wall I was clinging to and cross the room with slow, measured steps.
Elle busies herself with her computer, shutting everything down.
The presentation on the SMART board flickers off, and she’s organizing papers that don’t require organizing.
But she knows.
She feels me.
I can practically see her pulse racing in her neck as I reach the other side of her desk and stare down at her, compelling her to glance up at me.
Finally, when she’s out of things to do and can no longer resist the temptation, she puffs out a breath, rolls her shoulders while planting her hands on her desk, and meets my steadfast gaze.
“Why are you still here?”
Because I have to know. “Did you know who I was the night at the bar?”
“What?” She blinks incredulously at me, not expecting me to ask her that.
“You heard me.”
She shakes her head, standing upright, aggravation pouring off her. “You mean when you told me you were your brother? How could I have known you?”
“Because you said that night you thought you recognized me. You fell into bed with me quickly too, without a lot of talking or questions. Now you’re not only my neighbor but Stella’s teacher. I need to know if this is all just one big, fat coincidence or if you’re up to something else with me.”
A laugh belts past her lips. It’s the kind of laugh that suggests I’m crazy, but I’m not.
I’m an Abbot-Fritz, and people have done worse to get to us.
Oliver’s ex stalked him and Amelia all over Boston, going as far as trying to break them up, and when that didn’t work, she attempted to get Layla kicked out of school.
A woman Kaplan had a one-night stand with broke into his place the following night to steal stuff, including the used condom.
Luckily, she was caught before she could use his sperm to get pregnant.
Rina’s psycho ex-boyfriend attacked and kidnapped her.
Money breeds greed and madness in people.
“You’re serious?”
I stare at her, unmoving.
She huffs. “No. I didn’t know who you were.
I had thought you looked familiar, but it wasn’t until after you showed up on my doorstep and told me your last name that I realized it’s because I actually met Luca once years ago at a charity thing.
I’m most certainly not up to anything with you, Dr. Fritz, and that’s how I intend to keep it.
If money and assholes were my thing, I’d still be married. ”
Money and assholes. She mentioned her ex was a professional athlete. Chambers. That was the name on the box Gulliver ruined. I bet her husband was David Chambers.
Satisfied, I rip my gaze away and stroll toward the door.
“Are you always going to be this rude?” she calls after me, and I stop in my tracks, my head rolling over my shoulder to find her.
She shrugs, a half-smile pulling up the corner of her mouth.
“If so, I’d just like to know that ahead of time.
You know, so I don’t try to borrow eggs or sugar and make sure I schedule our parent-teacher conferences as a Zoom instead of in person. ”
“Are you always this sweet and friendly?”
She frowns and shifts her weight, momentarily glancing away because I already know the answer is yes, and I don’t think she wants to admit it. But I’m also learning that lying isn’t her strong suit, and she tends to say what’s on her mind when pressed.
“Are we sticking with honesty?”I ask, letting go of my question to her. I don’t need to know more about her or what makes her smile or frown or tick.
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t trying to be rude, per se. But you’re the fourth tenant in five years to move in next door to me.
People don’t usually stay long there, and I never found a reason to become friendly with them as a result.
” And other than Roberta, the one time I did, he turned around and tried to sell pictures and a story to The Boston Globe.
I heave out a breath. “I’m not a friendly person on a good day and frankly, I can’t be friendly with you.
That night…” I swallow. “That night was…” Unexpectedly perfect.
Everything I’ve been missing . “Not something that can ever happen again. So if you’re looking to borrow eggs or sugar, Mrs. Bellows on the other side of you is very nice and accommodating.
And as far as parent-teacher interactions, emails and Zoom work just fine for me. ”
“Huh.” She tilts her head, scrutinizing me in a way that makes the back of my neck break out into a cold sweat.
“So it’s you and not me then? Alrighty. I’m not sure what to say to that.
It’s amazing to me how different I thought you were, but obviously you were playing a role to get laid, and this is who you truly are.
No eggs or sugar. Emails and Zoom. Got it. Have a good night, Dr. Fritz.”
Her cool tone and sharp words pull me up short. Most likely because they’re true.
I’m not the man she met that night. Not anymore. But I was with her, and it wasn’t all an act. Sure, I told her I was Luca, and yes, in pretending to be him—it relaxed me—but with her…
With her, I was someone I haven’t been in a very long time.
Someone I thought died along with my wife.
My heart rate spikes, pounding painfully in my chest. That sweat on the back of my neck does nothing to cool me as my blood burns me from the inside out.
I need to get home. I need to eat some dinner and check in with Stella and take a shower. I need to leave this room where Elle is now rounding her desk, her purse on her shoulder, along with her laptop bag.
She’s back to ignoring me, shutting down her room, and when she moves to brush past me to turn off the lights and leave me behind, instinct eclipses sanity, and I grasp her arm, stopping her.
“What are you doing?”
Good question.
“Why do you care if I’m rude to you? I thought you hated me.”
Turbulent hazel eyes meet mine. “I do. But I’ve had enough meanness hurled my way to last a lifetime.
I think it’s safe to say I’m over it by this point and frankly, meanness doesn’t suit me.
I just moved here. I know one person in this town other than you and even if you’re not exactly my favorite person, you’re still my neighbor. ”
My grip on her arm tightens so she can’t pull away. “What does that matter? That I’m your neighbor? You thought we’d do book club and gossip on the sidewalk like besties?” I mock.
She grits her teeth. “No. You don’t have to worry about that.
I genuinely dislike you, which I know was your goal with me.
Especially with how you’ve spoken to me tonight.
But I had been hoping…” She trails off on a bitter laugh.
“It’s stupid. Maybe it’s the Southern girl in me or the one who automatically searches for the best in everyone or who is always sweet and friendly, as you put it—a character flaw I should have killed off by now considering how many times people have disappointed me—but I was hoping I was wrong about you.
Clearly I wasn’t, and that’s all there is to it. ”
There’s so much in her little statement it’s making my head spin.
But I can’t focus on that. After the way I’ve treated her, why would she ever want anything to do with me again?
Nothing else can happen between us. She’s the kind of woman you don’t work out of your system.
She makes you crave her. Hang like a fool on her every smile, word, and laugh.
She has you coming back for more until she’s an addiction you worry you’ll never be able to quit.
But the feel of her soft skin beneath my hand. The way her chest is rising and falling, pushing her tits up with every inhale. The scent of her perfume. The way she stares into me—as if she’s still clinging to the hope I’ll prove her wrong and be the guy she wishes I were.
My fingers twitch against her arm. I should release her and run from here, but instead, I’m tightening my grip. Marching forward, thrusting her back until she crashes into the wall, and slamming my mouth down on hers like I’ve been possessed.
I must be.
I can’t be kissing her. Not my daughter’s teacher in her school—that’s an automatic off-limits. Not the woman who looks at me like she wants me to be more than I’ll ever be.
I can’t kiss her.
But I am.
Because I had to fucking kiss her.
And she’s kissing me back, gasping against my lips as my tongue dives into her mouth.
A sweet, little, breathy moan escapes her when our tongues touch, her hands getting lost in my hair.
Her purse and computer bag slam into my side, but it does nothing to stop us or bring sanity back into our minds.
My hands fist on her silky blouse as I angle my head, deepening the kiss and pressing her harder against the wall. I want to rip her pants off, wrap her legs around my waist, and fuck her raw right here. Hard and fast. Desperate and angry because I’m both things right now.
My hand slips down to her waist, gripping her, nearly taking action on my thoughts when a sound breaks through my lust-induced haze, and my brain takes over, wrenching me back from her. I take a step and then another, both of us panting, chests heaving, eyes dark and feral.
I glare at her, and she glares right back. My sexy little vixen.
“Elle, you ready to go?” a woman calls out seconds before she enters the room and finds us both like this, not touching, but a visible mess as we stare at each other. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were still with a parent. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Fuck.
“You didn’t,” I bark out and take off, plowing past the other woman and out the door without so much as a backward glance at either of them.
What did I just do?