Micah
’s hot for teacher.
“Wait, start again,” Sadie said as she returned to the couch with a new bottle of wine. “He’s Em’s music teacher?”
“’s hot for teacher,” Tatum offered and then launched into the Van Halen song with gusto.
rolled her eyes as her friends joined forces, their collective volume rising. The song itself was one of her least favorite tracks by the band, hearing her friends butcher it only made the experience worse. Instead, she focused on refilling their wine glasses and waited until they were done performing like lunatics.
“Got that out of your system?”
Tatum nodded, grinning broadly, while Sadie bounced around, still humming. “I’ve got tons more questions, especially now that our munchkin is in bed.”
“Ask away,” grumbled. She should have been far more prepared for this interrogation when she walked through Tatum’s front door and heard Emery announce that she’d met ‘the Fletcher Kelley’.
The original plan had been to fly up to San Francisco for Thanksgiving weekend. But when her parents got tickets on a last minute cruise, decided to spend it with her best friends. Emery was thrilled to not leave Sirena Beach, especially since Nico wasn’t going anywhere for the break. Plus, she loved ’s best friends too. They’d each brought two dishes, but it was the most random selection of food to ever grace a Thanksgiving meal. Even though Emery’s announcement had both her friends itching to ask a million questions, was impressed that they kept it simple. In fact, outside of vague questions about work, Sadie and Tatum put their entire focus on Emery.
And was glad for it.
She loved her friends, they’d known each other since they were twelve, and had stuck together through marriages, divorces and then some. But once they got started on something, they would not let it go.
Sadie Harlow was the risk-taking, hair color changing, living life on the edge friend. As a fashion photographer, she traveled the world and met some of the most beautiful people. She took life by the balls at every opportunity, following her passions and heart, instead of focusing on making ‘good choices’. and Tatum were convinced that half of the fashion industry had their hearts broken by Sadie and her love ‘em and leave ‘em mentality. That evening, Sadie’s long hair was bright pink and split into two thick braids that fell down her back. Even though she had access to all the makeup people in the industry, Sadie never wore anything; the most she swiped on was gloss.
Tatum Faulks was the more focused and serious of the three, as well as an indie music producer. Tatum shook off her famous family name to set up her own record label and then took on local musicians and helped them produce their albums. Curvy and sassy, Tatum had wavy dark brown hair that always magically had beach waves. She also rarely wore makeup, but when she took the time, Tatum’s beautiful golden eyes were always highlighted as were her plump lips. Most of the light she had when they were teenagers was gone, thanks to the work of her ex-husband who destroyed Tatum bit by bit over the course of their marriage.
Heartbreak had rocked all three of them a few times over the past few years, but there was very little in the world that could destroy the friendship they’d built as kids.
“Okay, so he lives here now?”
“Yup. Seemed to know Hank well enough that the old man gave him his music store.”
Tatum pursed her lips in thought. “Sirena’s not that big that you’d never see each other.”
“He said he’s only been here permanently for a few months,” said and then shrugged. “And something about how he’s a hermit these days?”
Sadie groaned loudly. “I’m glad we’re doing this, but that reminds me that we haven’t had a Slutty Saturday in a long time.”
“Focus, slut. We’ve got bigger things to sort through,” Tatum snapped, poking Sadie in the thigh with her foot. Turning back to , she nodded. “Go on, we’re listening.”
took a big gulp of her wine, needing a few minutes to gather her thoughts before telling them how Fletcher looked when he thought Emery was his. In some weird way, wished he was the father, because Emery’s life would have been so different. Better . At the same time, maybe their magical one night would not have translated into a magical forever.
“He asked if Em was his,” she finally said, twirling her glass for something to do. Silence stretched around her and lifted her head to find her friends staring at her. “She’s not!”
Tatum and Sadie exchanged a glance before nodding. “Why would he ask that?”
“By the end of the night, we didn’t have any condoms, so we fucked without.”
“Whoa,” Sadie mumbled, eyes wide.
“It was already the best sex of my life, and somehow it was even better bare?” sighed and took another sip of her wine. “But the next morning, I got the pill and erased any chance of me being pregnant. Not because I didn’t want that with him, because I did. I was completely obsessed with him for days after that, remember? If I was pregnant with his kid, it would have brought us back together. But I was twenty-two and not ready to be a mom.”
Her friends were still staring at her, wine glasses untouched. She rolled her eyes and nudged them both gently. “I thought I was in love with him, but falling in love because the sex was good? Ridiculous.”
“You never told us that.”
“That I might have been in love with Fletcher? Come on. I practically followed them on tour for three weeks because I was borderline obsessed with him.”
“But like a fan. Everyone was obsessed with The Rescuers back then,” Tatum added, then pointed at herself. “I wanted to climb Jack Rush like a fucking tree and might have if we weren’t so late to meet everyone else for drinks.”
smiled at the memory. Sadie and Tatum had joined her for the first night of their East Coast tour—before hitched rides with anyone who had room in their cars. They’d been so close to the stage that when Jack, the lead singer of The Rescuers, dropped to his knees to belt out the chorus for their biggest hit, Tatum had handed him her bra. That was also the first night she caught Fletcher watching her.
“So…does seeing him again bring back any of those feelings?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” finished her wine and got up to refill her glass. “He’s so hot, though. Like, he was this grungy, awkward drummer back then. Now?” She whistled and shook her head.
had never thought much of men with long hair, but he made it look so fucking good. His once shaggy hair now fell to his shoulders, with silver streaked through perfectly. There was even gray at the temples and peppered through his well-groomed beard. It framed his mouth and jaw so beautifully, it took everything in not to stare at his pink lips for too long. He was also no longer lanky; Fletcher stood tall with his shoulders pushed back, drawing her attention to his broad form. Even under his clothes—a dark gray T-shirt paired with a plaid shirt and jeans—she could tell that he had some muscles. The thing that really rocked her were the black framed glasses he’d been wearing that day. Killed her.
“Ooookaaaaaaay,” Sadie said, dragging out the vowels with a wicked grin. “Maybe you two need to fuck and see what happens. Sometimes the best kind of magic comes from when you say ‘fuck it’ and remind yourselves of what you once had.”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not dating these days.” Tatum snorted and Sadie guffawed, making frown as she glanced at her friends. “What?”
“Nobody said anything about dating. I said fucking . If the sex made you feel like you were in love with him, made you walk funny for days and was good enough that you skipped condoms…do it again,” Sadie told her, earning an approving hum from Tatum.
“What if fucking him makes me fall in love with him again?”
“Well, that’s something to deal with if it happens,” Tatum said.
nodded slowly, weighing the pros and cons of getting involved with Fletcher again. On the one hand, she’d have sex for the first time in years. On the other hand, she could fall in love with him. And her friends were right, it didn’t have to be anything more than sex. Part of the reason why she didn’t date was because she didn’t want to introduce people to Emery and then have them vanish one day. Plus, dating was so exhausting. Her last tryst had been with a woman named Veronica, who said that she was only interested in continuing the date if was looking for a serious relationship. She barely had the time for herself most days, so a serious relationship?
Then again, for the right person… might make an adjustment.
Two days later, on Saturday, she sat in her office waiting on a new client. The clinic was closed for the break, but when the request had come in before Thanksgiving, she couldn’t refuse the person. Not that she knew anything beyond the basics—woman in her early eighties with learning difficulties. While most of her clients were under the age of eighteen and had speech troubles, had been taking on a few with other learning problems. A lot of the time, the two things went hand in hand. It wasn’t so much about reading as it was about reading aloud in many cases. Like her, if you had a stutter, reading out loud or presenting in front of people sometimes made the stutter worse. Most people put it down to nerves and stage fright, but more often than not, it was so much deeper than that.
At the knock on her office door, she pulled it open to find her childhood neighbor waiting on the other side. When her parents were still in Sirena Beach, they’d lived next door to Mrs. Hershey, a widow who was both opinionated and hilarious. had been scared of her as a kid—telling her older brother about the witch that lived next door who ate small children—but looking at the woman now, she seemed pretty harmless.
“Are you sure you’re qualified to help me?” Mrs. Hershey asked as she waddled into the office, nose up in the air.
closed the door and gestured to the diplomas she’d hung up on the wall. “More than. Graduated at the top of my class, got all my certifications.” She didn’t like flaunting her achievements, but the other doctors at the clinic told her that it would go a long way if she had some proof visible for everyone to see.
“But you’re so young.”
“I’m thirty-eight, Mrs. Hershey.”
The old woman’s eyes widened behind her thick glasses and a hand landed on her chest. “Not possible. I still remember you running into the backyard to do number two because that’s what Basil did.”
Basil had been Mrs. Hershey’s cranky, one eyed dog who hated everyone. , on the other hand, loved Basil and smothered him with so much love and affection. She caught him pooping in their backyard while her parents were out and decided that if Basil could do it, so could she. Mrs. Hershey had come out at the moment when rushed to the spot where Basil had done his job a few days ago, dropped her underwear and pooped like it was the most normal thing in the world. Safe to say, Mrs. Hershey gave her parents an earful and then pointed her already mangled fingers at little and told her to behave like a young lady before vanishing into her house.
No wonder thought she was a witch who ate small children.
“That was at least thirty years ago,” told her with a laugh, then waited for the older woman to sit down before doing the same. “What brings you by, Mrs. Hershey?”
Patting down her coif, Mrs. Hershey hesitated and then pushed back her hunched shoulders. “I don’t know if your mother ever told you this, but I never learned how to read and write. I understand that it’s late in life, but there’s a book club that I’m a part of and they’re starting to pick books that don’t have audiobooks. And I don’t want to miss out.” She then lowered her voice and flashed, what could only be called, a salacious smile. “We’re reading those new age historical romances with mentions of cocks and pussies . It is quite the experience having a young stud mumble those words into my ear. Alas, the ladies want to read a book and apparently I have to do the same.”
stared at her in shock, but mostly amusement. She loved that Mrs. Hershey was in a book club that read sexy romance novels with open door sex—oh, she was in a club or two of her own—but it was only slightly disturbing to see that smile accompanied by those words.
Clearing her throat, she shifted in her chair and tilted her head. “Is that why Mom used to do all your grocery shopping?”
“Your parents were very generous with their time and understanding of my plight. I was raised in a home where my father believed my only purpose was to cook, clean and procreate. So education wasn’t important.”
hated how that generation believed women served such ridiculous purposes, like they were there for one thing and one thing only. It took away the importance of who and what a woman was and could do.
“Do you also want to learn how to write or are we only focusing on reading?”
Mrs. Hershey shook her head. “Only reading for now. I’m hoping they’ll pick more that are available as audiobooks again. Here,” she rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a paperback that featured a shirtless man in half of a Santa outfit, abs fully on display, “this is what we’re reading.”
“How about we start with something a little simpler?”
The older woman didn’t look impressed. “Does it have a sexy half naked man on the cover?”
“Unfortunately not,” she said, fighting back her smile. “Do you have some time today?”
“I suppose so.” She sighed dramatically and then set her bag on a chair before giving her full attention. “What are we doing?”
“We’ll go through the alphabet and some really easy words and see what your base level is, then work from there.”
“I don’t have a lot of time before this book club, I better be ready by then.”
Chuckling, reached for the children’s book with big words and pictures. “We’ll have you reading that book in no time.”
“We’re out of milk,” Emery announced from the couch as cleaned up after dinner. “And probably cereal, too.”
Her session with Mrs. Hershey ran a little longer than expected, so when she got home, Emery had made dinner. But also very kindly left the kitchen an absolute mess. No matter how much she tried, teaching her daughter to clean up after herself was a difficult task. They’d eaten together on the couch, watching an old episode of Cheers . Then while Emery switched to her phone, had gone to clean up. It was their deal from the minute her daughter had the ability to carry heavy things—one person cooked and the other person cleaned. The difference was that cleaned up as she cooked, so all Emery ever had to do was put the leftovers away and load the dishwasher.
When Emery cooked, had to power wash the kitchen.
“Are you still snacking at midnight?”
“I’m a growing teenager!”
She rolled her eyes and wiped down the counters. “We’re switching to fruits for midnight snacks. Put it on the list.”
She heard Emery groan and she smiled, setting her shopping list on the table before heading up to her bedroom to change. Switching into paint-stained denim overalls and an old T-shirt, she dragged a hand through her hair and returned to find Emery hunched over the list.
“What are healthy fruits?”
“All of them?”
“Ammachi said some have too much sugar and those are not good.”
Of course her mother would tell her daughter this after spending years trying to control ’s diet. Tugging on her sneakers, she snapped her fingers. “Put down what you like or come with me.”
“Late night shopping? That’s so lame.” Emery quickly scribbled something on the list and handed it to her. She’d always enjoyed late night shopping, because nobody else was around and she could wander the aisles without being jostled. The Mermaid Mart was the only one that stayed open until 2 a.m. and had everything she needed. She’d become friends with all the staff and cashiers over the years, so if she couldn’t find something on the shelves, they snuck it for her from the back.
She’d been slacking off with her shopping, because Emery was out of the house most of the day and dinner was the only meal they ate together, so it wasn’t a big deal. But it was clear that she needed to pay more attention to the crap her daughter might be eating. She started with the veggies, then tossed in fruits that Emery had picked and also grabbed a few snacks that she could hide in the back of the cabinets. With meat the last thing on her list, she turned into the bread section and froze at the sight before her.
Man bun and glasses in place, pencil sticking out of his mouth and a slight frown crinkling his forehead, Fletcher Kelley was examining the shelf of bread. His light blue printed shirt had pink flamingos riding surfboards and was paired with dark shorts. All of his tattoos were now on display and she wanted to trace each one slowly. If anyone was to wonder why she’d been obsessed with him, that sight alone would have been a good answer. Swallowing hard, she started to back away, but of course the cart chose that moment to squeak loudly and drew his attention.
His frown vanished and eyes softened, making her knees wobble. Goddammit body, you fucking traitor . He pulled the pencil out of his mouth and tucked it behind his ear as he turned fully to look at her.
“Hey Mick.”
That nickname.
Lifting a hand in an awkward wave, she steeled herself. “Hey Fletch.” And that nickname . “Never seen anyone look so confused by bread before.”
“Didn’t realize that there were so many different types and colors. I just need bread.”
The frustrated look on his face made her laugh and she abandoned her cart to join him. “Okay, this is way more than I’m used to as well.”
“Right? Bread is bread, why does it have to be so complicated?”
“Well, it depends on what you want the bread for.” She smiled when he shrugged, his forehead wrinkling again. “PB & Js or a grilled cheese or breakfast sandwich or something a little more fancy?”
“Let’s go with grilled cheese.”
She reached for the white bread that Emery favored and handed it to him. “That’s Emery’s favorite, she says it adds a little something to the grilled cheese.”
“What’s your favorite?”
She shrugged, eyes fixed on the shelf even though she knew he was looking at her. “I like bread, it doesn’t matter really.”
“So, what are you buying tonight?”
Grabbing another loaf of the white bread, she waved that and a loaf of brown bread and smiled at him. “Both, we like mixing it up in our house sometimes.”
He nodded, but kept his eyes on her. blushed and turned to toss the bread into her cart. Her heart was racing, palms were sweating…the beginning of that damn Eminem song “Lose Yourself” filtered through her head.
“You okay?”
Blowing out a breath, she glanced at Fletcher with a forced smile. “Yeah, been a long day. You good?”
“Now that I have the perfect bread for a grilled cheese, yeah.”
“You’ll have to thank Emery for that choice.”
He smiled and she saw the wrinkles around his eyes, the lines around his mouth and she wished that she’d been able to see him age so beautifully. What are you doing? None of that, Elisabeth George! Shaking off the thought, she started to move around Fletcher when he said her name. Not Mick, he called her , the way the consonants sounded in his deep voice sent shivers up her spine.
“Yeah?” she whispered.
“We’re friends, right?”
“Are we?” She looked back at him as he dragged a hand through his now untied hair.
“I’d like us to be, yeah.”
Nodding, she turned to face him fully. “Okay, we’re friends.”
“Great,” he said the word softly, eyes locked on hers. “Do friends get coffee together?”
“It’s 10 p.m., Fletch.” She was paying such close attention that she saw the way he reacted to the nickname—chest heaved and fingers flexed.
“Did you know you’re the only person to call me that?”
“Even now?”
He nodded, taking one step towards her and bit her bottom lip at the dark look in his eyes. “Always seemed to correct people if they called me Fletch .”
Oh fuck it, give yourself to him right here in this aisle.
“So, coffee,” she forced out, the words breathy and almost squeaky. She had to curl her toes inside her sneakers to stop from swaying in Fletcher’s direction.
“Maybe another time. When it’s not so late.”
“Okay.” If she didn’t rein it in, she was in serious danger of wanting to hump him every time she saw him. “Good night, Fletcher.”
“‘Night, Mick.”
She flashed him her best smile and turned around, casually hurrying out of sight before she sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes.