Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Clutching my travel mug filled with my favorite herbal tea blend, I made my way to the teacher’s lounge for our weekly post-school day staff meeting—my first since joining Wild Ridge Academy.
“Morning,” my colleague Lily whispered as I slid into the seat beside her.
She was a fourth-grade teacher with a direct, no-nonsense personality, a dry sense of humor, and a rotating collection of resin woodland creature earrings that she made and sold on Etsy as a side hustle.
Today’s were tiny foxes. “You look like hell. Need a snack?” she asked, offering me a granola bar from her purse.
“Thanks,” I muttered, accepting it and tearing it open. I ate nearly half of it in one large bite.
“You’re welcome. You had that look. Thought maybe you forgot to eat.”
I hadn’t precisely forgotten to eat. Just every time I sat down to a meal, I could barely get anything down.
I hadn’t really had an appetite since my run-in with Jake Mercer at the beginning of the week.
The man was straight up ignoring me now, pretending like I didn’t exist every time he dropped Cole off in the morning and then picked him up again in the afternoon.
I thought maybe I’d seen a brief flash of heat in Jake’s eyes that first day, but perhaps that was only wishful thinking.
At the front of the room, Carol clapped her hands once. “Okay, folks, let’s get into it. Big item this week: our annual fall fundraiser.”
A collective groan rippled through the room.
“I know, I know,” she said with a grin. “It’s nobody’s favorite task, but you all know how important this is. The money we raise supports outdoor programming, need-based scholarships, and a good portion of our materials budget. So let’s treat this like the celebration it is.”
She glanced at the clipboard in her hand, and I already knew what was coming—Lily had warned me this morning.
“As our newest staff member,” she continued, her eyes scanning the room and landing on me, “Eden will be joining the planning committee. Thanks in advance for pitching in.”
Several heads turned my way. I lifted my tea in a toast. “Happy to help.”
It was the truth. When Lily first warned me about the fundraiser and how I’d get roped into the committee, my initial thoughts were less than generous.
At Hawthorne Prep, where I used to work, fundraisers were bureaucratic minefields—elaborate productions where committee politics inevitably superseded actual progress.
Lily leaned in and whispered, “I hope you’ve done CrossFit, because if not, you’re about to get a crash course in how hard it is schlepping hay bales and dragging folding tables all around town.”
I snorted. “Sounds fun.”
She grinned. “Oh, it is. Blisters, splinters, and just enough awkward tension with community volunteers to keep it interesting.”
At the front of the room, Carol continued, flipping to the next slide in her PowerPoint presentation. “This year, we’re moving the event to Three Pines Ranch. When Jake Mercer enrolled his son Cole here over the summer, he generously offered to host.”
Suddenly, I felt dizzy. My hands started shaking, and I gripped my tumbler with both hands, pressing it against my stomach to hide the tremor. I could feel Lily’s eyes on me, but I kept my gaze locked on Carol, praying my expression looked normal instead of like I was about to throw up.
Three Pines Ranch.
So not just Jake then. His whole family … on his turf. The place where I first fell in love, then later, the place I ran from.
What the hell had I signed up for?
You didn’t sign up for this , a snarky voice at the back of my head reminded me. You were volun-told .
“Offered or was coerced?” an eighth-grade teacher with more hair on his face than on his head said from the front row with a chuckle.
Dimly, through the ringing in my ears, I heard Carol snicker. “Let’s just say he’s probably surprised to have come up with the idea.”
“What’s the theme?” Lily called out. She leaned into me and said, out of the side of her mouth, “Last year it was an 80s prom theme. Cute in theory. Terrible in practice.”
“No real theme since the ranch itself is plenty atmospheric,” Carol answered. “The committee is meeting tomorrow with Mr. Mercer to discuss event specifics, but I’m thinking of a bonfire if it’s feasible, live music, and maybe a chili cook-off. That sort of thing.”
Her eyes found mine again, and I did my best to squash the shock and anxiety that I knew must be written on my face lest she think I couldn’t handle something as simple as a school fundraiser.
“Eden, I’m pairing you with Mr. Mercer for logistics and item coordination—pickup, inventory, setup …
that sort of thing. Next year, once you’ve got the lay of the land and how these things work, we’ll shift you into a more administrative role. ”
I nodded my agreement, but inside, my emotions were rioting. Still, it would be disastrous if my boss knew how badly I was freaking out right now. “Sure, Carol. Sounds good.”
It didn’t sound good at all. It sounded like a disaster in the making.
The library was quiet when I walked in ten minutes after the final bell and ducked into the room where the committee was set to meet.
I stopped cold, my heart lurching into my throat.
Jake was already here, sitting at the far end of the table, one arm slung over the back of his chair, his posture casual but guarded. A clipboard rested on the table in front of him.
My pulse hammered so hard I was sure everyone could hear it. I forced my feet to move, willing my expression to stay neutral even though my hands had gone clammy and my knees felt weak.
Carol greeted me brightly. “Eden, great. You remember Jake Mercer, Cole’s dad?”
“Hello again,” I greeted him, managing not to wince when my voice came out sounding slightly breathy and thin despite my best efforts to project an air of calm.
Jake’s eyes met mine for a fraction of a second before his jaw tightened and he looked away, giving me the most impersonal nod I’d ever seen. “Ma’am.” His voice was flat, dismissive.
That single word hit me like a slap, and I felt my cheeks burn as if he’d actually struck me. I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from flinching.
Not Eden. Not Ms. James. Just … ma’am. Like I was no one. Like we hadn’t spent an entire summer tangled up in each other, whispering filthy promises in the dark. Like he hadn’t once told me he loved me.
I forced a smile that I was sure didn’t reach my eyes, hoping Carol wouldn’t notice my reaction, and took the empty seat across from him, keeping my gaze firmly on the paper in front of me, my heart thudding like a gong in my chest.
Carol started talking about fire permits, food trucks versus catering, and her idea for the chili cook-off and volunteer shifts, but I couldn’t focus. Not really.
Still, I made myself take notes, my eyes trained on the agenda even though every cell in my body was hyperaware of the man sitting across the table.
Around the table, four other committee members, including Lily, Soraya, the music teacher, a school counselor named Vera, and someone from the Parent Teacher Organization whose name I hadn’t caught, flipped through their packets, nodding along and interjecting their ideas.
“We’ll need to finalize a list of auction items by the end of the month,” Carol told Soraya, who nodded.
“I was thinking about hitting up the Turner family again this year,” Soraya responded. “I know we said we didn’t want to tap that well too often, but I heard through the grapevine they have a new head of philanthropy who is looking to diversify their charitable giving contributions.”
“Sounds good,” Carol said, making a note on her sheet.
Jake cleared his throat and spun slightly in his seat to face Soraya. “My brother Colt said to sign him up for a trail ride for the auction.”
I blinked as the face of Jake’s younger brother—the third of five boys—jumped into my mind. I’d been too busy obsessing over running into Jake again after all these years that I hadn’t really given much thought to the rest of the Mercer boys.
Colt was barely twenty years old the last time I saw him, all toothy grins, boundless energy, and a really infectious personality.
I remembered him tailing his oldest brother around like a puppy that whole summer.
Jake tried to pretend he was annoyed by Colt’s constant presence, but I frequently caught his warm smiles whenever Colt turned away.
Jake must’ve felt my eyes on him because he flicked his gaze toward me for a brief second. His brows furrowed slightly before he dragged his attention back to Soraya.
“Last we spoke,” Carol continued, addressing Jake directly now. “You mentioned a barn might be available?”
He gave a curt nod. “The space will be cleared out by the end of the weekend. You’ll have full access starting Monday. Either I or one of my brothers will be available to help with setup and teardown.”
His voice was deeper than I remembered. Rougher. I felt goosebumps bloom on my skin.
“That’s great,” she said, shifting her attention to me. “Eden, you’ll work with the Mercers on getting the barn set up—tables, chairs, that sort of thing—and making sure our physical auction items are onsite the day of the fundraiser. Do you have access to a truck?”
Jake shifted in his seat with a sharp, annoyed-sounding huff, his fingers tapping on the arm of his chair.
Across from me, Lily’s eyebrows rose, and she tossed a “what’s that all about?” look my way.
I shook my head minutely and pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “Uh … no. I drive a Mini Cooper.”
Carol waved away my concern. “Not a problem. We’ll get you set up with a rental.”
“Great,” I said, forcing a smile.
Not a single thing about any of this was great. It was my worst nightmare. Well, my second worst nightmare given that I’d already lived through finding out my husband and best friend were fucking each other.
“Perfect.” Carol moved on, assigning someone else to food and beverage coordination, but I tuned out after that, my attention focused on Jake’s every movement.
The scratch of his pen on paper. The way he drummed his fingers against his thigh when Carol droned on about permits.
The clean scent of his soap mixed with something distinctly masculine that made my mouth go dry.
My eyes flicked up to catch him staring at me, his dark eyes intense and unreadable. For a heartbeat, I saw something flicker there—anger, maybe, or something deeper—before his expression shuttered completely. He dragged his gaze away and ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, the muscle there jumping.
Nope. This isn’t just going to be awkward at all, I thought, scribbling aimlessly in the margins of my packet. Not awkward at all.