15. Guy
GUY
I lean toward her. “I’m sorry. What?”
She shrugs as if this is just a casual conversation instead of her dropping a bomb on me. “Yeah, we’re good together, and I have fun with you, but you’re Guy Brody.”
I stand from my side of the booth and move around to sit beside her. I turn toward her, effectively blocking her from the rest of the restaurant. “You’re scared.”
Her eyes lower. “I am. I don’t want to get hurt.” Then she looks back at me. “And you could absolutely destroy me.”
Before I can answer, she continues. “I can’t do this, Guy. I’ve seen the women you date.”
“So?”
She lifts her shoulders. “I’m nothing like them.”
I laugh once. “I know you’re not.”
Her mouth drops open. “What is that supposed to mean?”
I shake my head. “You said it. You’re nothing like the women I’ve dated before.” I move closer. “You’re beautiful. You’re smart, determined, and dedicated.”
She huffs. “I was referring to the fact that I’m not skinny or that I don’t look good in a bikini.”
My mouth practically waters at the thought. “I would love to see you in a bikini.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Guy, you’re not listening. People online are mean, and I don’t want to be known as the fat girl who bagged Guy Brody and then got dumped by him.” She blows out a breath. “This is getting too complicated. Maybe we should cool it for a while. Take a break.”
I hold up my hand. “Wait. Hold up. Take a break? You want to take a break?”
She shakes her head. “Look, I know you’re not used to this, but I have a lot going on right now. I thought I’d be able to find a teaching job easily, but nowhere is hiring. I don’t even know how long I’m going to be here if I can’t find a job and—”
I sit up straighter. Hell, no. She’s not leaving. I pull my phone from my pocket and find Jason Wolf’s number. As I hit call, I look at her. “What grade do you want to teach?”
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t work like that.”
I just stare at her.
She sighs. “Kindergarten or first grade, but I’m a new teacher. I can’t exactly cherry-pick, Guy.”
Jason answers.
“Hey, man. It’s Guy.”
“Guy Brody. I just watched you on television. Good game tonight.”
“Thanks. I’m actually calling to ask you a favor.”
“Name it.”
I look straight at Nicole. “You happen to need a kindergarten or first-grade teacher?”
Nicole’s mouth drops open, and both of her hands fly to her cheeks.
Jason laughs. “You looking for a day job?”
I smile. “A good friend of mine just moved to town, and she’s looking.”
There’s a brief pause before Jason says, “As long as she’s qualified, tell her to call the school tomorrow. I still have a kindergarten position open, and I can bring her in for an interview.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Jason. I owe you.”
“No problem. See you at the gym.”
I end the call and look at Nicole. “Call Whiskey Run Elementary tomorrow and ask for Jason Wolf. He’s the principal. He has a kindergarten opening and said he’ll interview you.”
Her eyes get even wider. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’m not kidding.”
“You just happen to know the principal of an elementary school?”
I nod. “We went to high school together, and we hit the gym sometimes.” My hand returns to her thigh. “So no more talking about leaving.”
She stares at me. And then I see it. She’s finally starting to understand that I’m serious about her.
A smile slowly spreads across her face. “I might have a job?”
I laugh and pull her into a hug. “You might have a job.”
She’s laughing when I release her. “I can’t believe you did that. Guy, I’ve applied at every school in Jasper.”
“Well, this one’s in Whiskey Run, but it’s only about twenty minutes away.”
She hugs me again. “Thank you. Seriously. Thank you. I owe you big time.”
I put my hand back on her thigh. “You don’t owe me anything.”
What I don’t tell her is how much I like the idea of her teaching at the school right down the road from my house. Maybe eventually I can convince her to spend more time there too.
She’s smiling from ear to ear. “Oh, I definitely owe you. Name it.”
I squeeze her thigh. “Okay. I’m ready to collect.”
She searches my eyes. “What do you want?”
I slowly let out a breath. “I want you off Pick Me.”
She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “Excuse me?”
I reach up and brush a strand of hair away from her face. “I want you to delete your profile.”
She tilts her head. “And what exactly am I supposed to tell the guy who asked me out for Friday night?”
My teeth clench. “Tell him you’re busy Friday night. Hell, tell him you’re busy for the foreseeable future.”
“But—”
I shake my head. “You’re not going on that date, Nicole. I don’t share.”
She stares at me with wide eyes before propping her elbow on the table. “So does that mean you’re getting off Pick Me too?” I don’t answer quickly enough. She lifts an eyebrow. “I mean, that’s the only way you know I’m still on there. You have to have an account too.”
I pull my phone from my pocket and set it on the table between us. I open the app, and my profile pops up. She leans closer. “Uh… is that your brother Ozzy?”
I shrug. “Yeah. I didn’t want to make one for myself, so I figured setting one up for my single brother wouldn’t hurt anything.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Does he know about this?”
I smirk, already imagining his reaction. “No, but I’ll make sure he does.”
He’s going to be pissed, which works for me. I’ll call it payback for ambushing Nicole with the whole family.
She scrunches up her nose. “Wait. You joined Pick Me just to see if I was still on it? Why didn’t you just ask me?”
I shrug, but insecurity starts creeping in. “I don’t know. I guess I hoped you’d already deleted it without me asking. I thought maybe you were done with it.”
Her eyes soften. “Guy…”
I look at her. “You want to keep this hidden, fine. But I’m not sharing you, Nicole. You’re mine, even if only you and I know it.”
She smiles softly. “And my dad. Don’t forget him.”
I put my hand along the back of the booth and run my fingers through her hair. “And your dad.”
She pulls out her phone, opens the app, and starts tapping the screen. “Fine. I’m canceling it.”
Relief hits me harder than it probably should. Then she looks up at me. “But that means I don’t share either. No cleat chasers, baseball bunnies, or whatever they’re called. As long as we’re doing this and having uh, sex, there’s no one else.”
I lean closer until there’s barely any space between us. “We’re not just having sex, Nicole.” Her eyes hold mine. “Eventually, you’re going to understand that.”
She doesn’t look away this time, and that feels like progress.