Chapter Two
Emma
“I t’s four-oh-seven.” I point at the clock above Coach Long’s head since I’ve been robbed of my phone. “You can release me from prison now.”
He snorts as he nosily scrolls through my phone. Then, I see him typing. Coach Long is the only teacher I know who doesn’t give a crap about what anyone thinks of him. Threats to his job wouldn’t work. You can’t fuck with the “unfuckwithable.”
“What you’re doing is fraud,” I huff out, shifting in the hard chair at my desk. “Pretending to be me.”
Finally, my annoying, grumpy teacher glances my way. “Just letting your daddy know how to get to my classroom.”
I jolt upright and glower at him. “Why is he coming here? You never made him come here before. ”
“You never punched someone before,” he deadpans. “You’re lucky I didn’t take this to Principal Renner.”
Honestly, I’d rather have gone to the principal. He’s nicer than my coach.
“Wyatt had it coming. Just saying,” I grumble. “He’s an ass.”
“Wyatt is an ass,” Coach Long agrees. “You only did what everyone else wanted to.”
I grin at him. “So basically, I’m the hero in this situation.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Abrams.”
Even though Coach Long can be a dick, I actually do like him. When I tried out for track, he was fair and judged everyone on their actual skill rather than how long they’d been in the district or who their parents were. It was nice to get something on my own merit.
Heavy footsteps smack the linoleum as a person nears the classroom. I know the gait of his walk. It’s as familiar to me as my own.
Because you obsess over every little thing with him…
I chew on the inside of my cheek, doing my best to keep my features impassive. It’s hard not to stare at him and grin dreamily.
He’s your mom’s boyfriend.
Keep your illicit fantasy under lock and key where it belongs.
A figure steps into the doorway and my heart skitters in my chest. Reid looks good today, like usual, in a pair of well-loved, faded and worn blue jeans, scuffed up work boots, and a white T-shirt that fits a little snuggly on his muscular frame.
Why does he have to be so hot for an old guy?
His sharp hazel eyes dart over to me, sweep over me as if to check that I’m okay, and then they’re on Coach Long. He strides over to the desk and gives my coach one of those manly, handshakes that makes all his forearm veins pop out.
I lick my bottom lip wishing I could lick the flexing muscle of his forearm instead.
“Your daughter here—” Coach starts but is cut off by Reid.
“Girlfriend’s kid,” Reid says with a grunt. “She’s working late so I’m doing the pickup.”
I roll my eyes. Does he have to talk about me like I’m a nuisance?
“Miss Abrams assaulted another student.” Coach Long cuts his eyes over to me. “You want to explain, or should I?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I shrug as if I don’t care. That’s a lie. I’d been so extremely pissed at Wyatt, I blew up on him. It all happened so fast. I’m sure if Coach Long had heard what Wyatt said, the doofus would be sitting here in my spot rather than me.
“Fine,” Coach mutters. “I’ll explain. In the middle of class, Miss Abrams turned around in her seat and punched Wyatt Drummond in his throat. The guy couldn’t catch his breath for a good five minutes. She’s lucky she didn’t crush his windpipe. ”
I hold up my dainty hand and wriggle my fingers. “Not exactly a lot of power behind this weapon.”
Reid smirks at me and a ripple of heat travels through my nerve endings.
“Not the point,” Coach continues. “You can’t hit people because you don’t like what they say.”
“He was slut shaming,” I huff out in exasperation. “You didn’t hear the part where he said he should send everyone the video of that girl sucking his dick because she was so bad at it despite all her experience. Honestly, he deserved a lot more than what I gave him.”
Reid rubs at the back of his neck, eyebrows furled as if unsure what to do.
The way his tattooed bicep bulges is slightly distracting, and I have to force my attention away from it.
I feel bad for him having to come play “dad” for me.
I’d bet my entire makeup collection he never had to come rescue Brayden from detention.
As Coach Long continues to rat me out, and the possible implications of my assault if Wyatt got his parents involved, I lose interest. Instead, I wonder why my mother doesn’t treat him better.
What’s Mom’s deal anyway?
Reid isn’t like any of her previous boyfriends.
He’s strong and steady, like a tree, but he’s more than someone to take care of us.
I like how intense he can be and caring.
It’s cute how he sort of melts whenever he’s around Brayden.
That guy is Reid’s pride and joy. It’s sweet.
Plus, Reid can be funny. It’s rare he shows it, but the more time we spend alone, the more I see it .
Mom is taking him for granted.
If Reid was my man, I’d worship the ground he walked on. I’d spend hours in his lap, kissing his sexy mouth and teasing him until we’re both about to explode.
A forbidden pulse aches between my legs, and I have to shift in my seat to make it go away.
I’m tired of this obsession with him, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get it to fade. If anything, it grows stronger by the day.
Someone snaps me out of my daze. Coach Long points at his door. “Get out of my classroom now, Abrams.”
I notice Reid is holding my phone. After I grab my backpack and pull it on, I swipe it out of his hand, pocketing it in the back of my jeans.
We’re quiet as we walk down the hallway, neither of us speaking until we’re outside. A gust of chilly air swirls around me, sending my shoulder-length chocolate-brown hair spinning up above my head like a tornado.
Reid chuckles. “You look like that girl from The Grinch .”
“Does that make Coach Long The Grinch if I’m Cindy Lou-Who?”
“Don’t take it personally. Brayden says he hates everyone, even him.”
That actually does make me feel better since Brayden is the golden boy .
“So, she’s working late again?” I ask once we’re in Reid’s truck.
He doesn’t look at me when he starts the vehicle. “Yep.”
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek again, noting that it’s getting sore, as I attempt to figure out what’s going on with her. Her texts are vague and overly positive. Since I haven’t seen much of her to get a good read, I’m not sure what to make of it.
Reid, a man of few words, drives in silence, one hand on the steering wheel and the other nervously tapping his jean-clad thigh. Is he hating that he’s my unofficial chauffeur and detention bondsman? I’d hate it if it were me. He has the patience of a saint.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say, voice cracking. “I feel bad you had to go through all this trouble.”
“It’s fine, Em. Sounds like the kid deserved to get his ass kicked.”
I love when he calls me Em.
A smile tugs at my lips. “He really did.”
The awkwardness fades away and then I tell him the good things about my day.
One of my favorite makeup influencers followed me back.
I pretty much freaked out and screamed when I got the notification.
Even Savvy, who’s not exactly a social media queen, thought it was cool when I’d texted her.
Reid, bless him, smiles in appreciation, though I’d bet he doesn’t even know what an influencer is.
You’re crushing on a dinosaur .
A sexy, muscular, delicious-smelling dinosaur.
How old is Reid anyway?
Maybe I’ll peek at his wallet one day while he’s sleeping. He always leaves it on the bar in the kitchen, fully trusting everyone in his home not to do him dirty.
Would Mom take advantage of him?
She’s not the “steal your credit card” type, but she does let him take care of everything. Like groceries for instance. I’ve never seen her buy any food for his house. Even when we stayed in the empty townhome, we never had anything in the cabinets and would always go over to Reid’s to eat.
Soon, I’m going to be able to help Reid out since Mom won’t.
“I have an interview,” I blurt out, unable to hold back the excitement.
We pull into the parking place in front of our home and Reid shuts off the truck.
“Interview?” He cants his head to the side, studying me. “For what? College?”
My elation at a possible job shrivels. Reid talks a lot about “when I go to college” and it’s starting to piss me off. It’s like he’s eager to get rid of me. How is he going to feel when I tell him I’m not going? I have other plans that don’t involve more stupid school.
“No,” I grumble. “A job.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Why would you want to go and get one of those?”
“To help out,” I say, pinning him with a knowing stare. “Since, you know…” Mom doesn’t.
“No.” He gives a sharp shake of his head. “You shouldn’t feel like you need to pitch in. You’re a child, not a roommate.”
I tug my phone out of my pocket, rip the phone case off to reveal my driver’s license, and hold it in front of his face. “What’s that date, huh?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, actually, I don’t,” I clip out, stuffing it back where it goes. “Maybe I want a job to just get out and experience new things.”
Hurt has begun to coil itself around my heart, squeezing to the point of pain.
My obsession with this man always ends in heartache.
He’s my mom’s man. Not mine. So why would I expect him to even care about what I want out of life?
That’s not his role for me. Apparently, it’s caretaker and that’s it. Boring.
“What’s the job?” he asks, voice softer and tinged with guilt.
“Babysitter.”
“Congrats. I’m sure you’ll enjoy that. You’re great with Linda’s kids.”
Linda’s kids are tyrants, but they love me.
“At least with this gig, I’ll get paid,” I say with a smile, tension bleeding out of me.
“We should celebrate.”
I perk up and meet his glittering hazel eyes. “Oh yeah, how? ”
Filthy images of us on the couch together assault my brain. Warmth burns at my cheeks, but I’ve got a full face of pretty makeup on today, so he probably can’t tell.
“We can order pizza and watch—”
“Don’t say golf,” I interrupt with a groan.
Seriously, how much golf can one man consume in his lifetime? Apparently, limitless amounts.
“Nah,” he says with a wide grin that lights up his handsome face. “There’s a new horror movie on Netflix.”
Right now, if an outside were to look in through the truck windows, they might confuse us for an actual couple. At least, in my fantasy, that’s what I see. His smile for me is much different than the ones he gives everyone else.
It’s intense and filled with love.
Even if the love I feel emanating from him is more fatherly in nature, it’s there. I’m not imagining that part. It makes me feel safe and secure and cared for.
Problem is, it’s not enough.
I crave more facets of this love.
Deeper, sexual, feral need.
Would a man like Reid Foss ever reciprocate those feelings?
Probably not. He’s a good man to his very core.
Falling for his girlfriend’s daughter would be very, very bad.