Chapter 5
SIENNA
“Noooo.”
I stare at my newly assassinated flat tire, palm face-planted on my forehead, and I give up on today.
I’m done.
Not only am I late for work, but everything that could have gone wrong today has.
I spilled coffee all over the inside of my purse—don’t ask—I almost fell down the two stairs down my porch because I apparently forgot that I was wearing heels and how to walk in them, and it was my day to bring breakfast for the other teachers.
We alternate days. It’s like a sacred thing that, on your assigned day, you bring in pastries, donuts, muffins, whatever, or the rest of the staff is going to be pissed for the rest of the day.
It happened to Carol Masters, who teaches third grade, a few months back, and folks wouldn’t talk to her for over a week.
And I’ll be next on the list for failing to provide grown-ass adults their breakfast.
Calling my insurance company to get some help with my tire, I’m told that it’ll take twenty minutes for someone to arrive.
It takes an hour.
With my already impeding lack of patience going through my body, I jump out of my car the moment I see the white tow truck pull up from behind me onto the shoulder.
It may not be his fault; he could’ve been busy, but I need this tire fixed ASAP.
If I have time, I might be able to squeeze in a donut run if I haul ass.
But my heels skid against the gravel rocks because out slides Micah in all his sexy, tight black tee glory. His tattoos pop from his tan skin as a smirk promptly illuminates his all-dark features.
The man is a walking eye-fuck.
Every contour and curve of his face is perfection. And I’ve seen his naked body thrusting into mine last weekend when he gravely muttered in my ear that he could get lost in me forever. That my pussy was the best he’s ever had and how he could feel me pulsate against him with every thrust.
He’s a constant thought. I’ve picked up my phone so many times to call him, but I had a last-minute moment of relapse with how bad of an idea that would’ve been.
But a supernatural force with an awful sense of humor keeps placing us here.
Yards apart, bodies buzzing, and that little thing called my job standing in the way of me jumping his bones right now.
“Hello, Miss,” he greets, his tone dripping with sex, allure, and charm. All three deadly things when this man already knows what I feel like from the inside out. “Havin’ trouble with your car?”
I bob my head, my voice already fled in the opposite direction because if it comes to the forefront, I might squeak out something and sound like an idiot.
Micah leans his hip against my back fender, where my flat tire resides. “You been waitin’ out here long?”
I clear my throat, crossing my arms along my chest because my little sweater wrapped around my shoulders doesn’t stop the hot chills from stopping. “An hour.”
“Damn, I just got the call five minutes ago.”
What the hell?
He haunches down, and I think he’s going to go examine the damage done to my tire, but instead his heated blues fall freely down the length of me.
And I don’t know if he does it on purpose to break my resolve or if he just can’t help himself, but my skin breaks out in pebbled goosebumps under that scorching inspection.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have this done soon if you didn’t bend the rim.”
Yeah, I’m not computing a thing he says because I just got locked into this man’s gaze.
I’m supposed to be staying away from him, not wishing he’d just slam me against the side of my Chevy Malibu and spread my legs.
Maybe I could if he’d stop looking at me like he remembers what I taste like.
“You need to get to work ASAP?”
“Yeah.” I’m surprised I’m able to get that one word out. I’m actually embarrassed that I’m acting this way, too.
When Micah left my house the next day from fucking my brains out, we didn’t make any arrangements to see each other. It was as though it was the last time, and neither of us wanted to mention it either.
Did I hate it? Yes.
It freaking sucked that I wasn’t able to move forward with this man. And now that he’s within a few feet of me, I’m acting as though we didn’t spend most of the night tasting each other.
“You alright?”
Mentally, I shake my head, but I physically bob it instead. “Yeah…it’s been a bad morning.”
Micah rises to his full height, towering over me and cutting into some of the space between us. “Any way I can make it better?”
Do not give in, Sienna. We can’t do this.
Yes, I could not teach Heath, but where does that leave me? He’s in my classroom, and I don’t want to move him because I selfishly want to screw his dad’s brains out.
“You know…” I can’t get the words out.
I don’t wish to.
The more I say it out loud, the more real and depressing it becomes.
“Yeah, I know,” he says before his heated gaze falls to my lips. “I know what you feel like, what you fucking taste like between your legs. I’m hard just thinking about it.”
A lump forms in my throat; it’s been there for days, and now I feel as though I’m going to melt into a puddle over lewd words and dreams of more.
Not being able to talk to him is like torture. Knowing that he’s out and about for someone else to snatch him up drives me insane. I have no right to feel that way. I told him that I couldn’t date him, and I’m sticking to it.
However, I’m really not going to enjoy another parent-teacher conference if he brings up his girlfriend picking up Heath, or his son talking about the new woman in his life.
“You want me to take you to work?”
“Could you?”
“It’s gonna cost you.” He folds his arms across his broad chest, mocking my actions, and all red flags wave frantically in my head. “You owe me a date.”
“I can’t—”
“Wear a hat. A wig. A fat suit, I don’t care. Wear anything your little heart desires, and I’ll make sure it’s out of town where all the Karens can’t spy on you.”
Why didn’t you think of that?
Because I play by the regulations of society.
I don’t usually take huge risks that could be life-altering for me. I’ve never gambled a day in my life.
“Micah,” I manage to get out. “You’re playing a dangerous game—”
“I know,” he admits immediately with another step forward. “But, when you’ve spent one night with the woman of your dreams…you tend to throw all caution to the wind and gladly burn alive for another.”
His words steal the breath from my lungs because…that couldn’t be possible. We’ve known each other for a week, and I couldn’t have had that much effect on him.
Like he does you?
“You can’t mean—”
The approach of tires on gravel has me glancing past Micah to see a red pickup truck approach with an arm and head sticking out the window.
“Hey, folks,” I hear the male voice greet chipperly. “Need some help?”
I see Micah sigh before turning on his heels to meet the man head-on. “Mornin’, Horace. Nah, we’re good here.”
Horace stops his truck alongside my car and stares down at the flat tire. “Ah, bad break.”
“Happens to the best of us.”
“Not if you have a spare.” Horace glances up at me, opens his mouth, then immediately closes it. “You’re in good hands, Miss Vesper. You’ll be gettin’ to school in no time.”
I’d ask how he knows my name, but this has happened to me over a dozen times, alluding that this town truly does know everyone and everything going on in this town.
Which fully supports my notion to not continue things with Micah.
“How ’bout you get this truck outta here,” Micah suggests. “You’re gonna kick up dirt and—”
“On it,” Horace replies with a small slap to his door. “Have a nice day now.”
He slowly pulls away, and Micah readjusts his focus back to me.
“I, uh…I really need to get to work.”
And I really can’t conjure up a good enough excuse to get out of this back and forth between us.
We can’t do it.
Period.
“So, I’ll pick you up on Friday night?”
His blue eyes already sparkle with victory, but I bunker down the best I can.
“I can’t,” I disclose evenly. “It’s too risky. However, I’m flattered and—”
“I don’t want to flatter you, sweetheart. I want to date you.”
Lord, grant me the strength.
I steel my spine against his unyielding blue eyes because one of us has to be the rational one.
And it looks like that job is going to fall on me.
“It’s not possible.”
Micah lifts his shoulders, as if giving up that quickly, when he props his hip against my fender and stares at me some more. “I got all day.”
I frown. “What?”
“I egged Mr. Johnson’s house for a year straight without getting caught when I was eight.
I hid Coach Turner’s whistle before every practice for an entire season, and he accused three assistants.
I stole the wet paint sign from the courthouse and kept putting it back in different places for a year.
No one ever painted anything. There was this one time—”
“You’re a menace, Micah Wolfe.”
He smiles and heaves his shoulders again. “The list goes on. I have more.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“All that to say, sweetheart, I don’t get caught. And I know how we can get away with it.”
“There are rules—”
“We’re not breaking the rules if we go into another city.”
“Are we having sex in another city, too?”
The question makes me blush because I’m assuming we would again, but Micah doesn’t stop to think about whether we would or wouldn’t.
“If that would make you feel better,” he claims. “I’d do anything to make you say yes, Sienna.”
Anything.
This man knows all the right things to say, and my brain is over here melting away logic that I had moments ago into nothing.
Magnolia Ridge was just for a job.
However, Micah is turning it into so much more.
“You’re asking for trouble, Micah,” I elude, holding his stare because one of us is going to get burned in this process, and I have a feeling it’s going to be me.
“One date outside the city can’t hurt.”
Can one date outside of the city hurt?
I mean…what’s seven and a half months before I can date this man without losing my job?
“And I’ll be extra careful,” he tacks on, making a cross across his heart for good measure.
Yeah.
But can I be?