Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
NADIA
When you’re a third-grade teacher, you learn to cherish the small things. Like, say, getting a full cup of coffee before the bell rings, or remembering your lunch on the same day you remember your ID badge. Or, in today’s case, surviving without any bodily fluids getting on your person.
All I want is to make it up the front walk, through the fancy glass doors, and into my pajamas before I completely unravel. That and, possibly, to “accidentally” run into the hot neighbor I have a crush on and his psychotic Frenchie, but I’m definitely not admitting that out loud, even to myself.
My heart is beating a little too fast as I round the corner to the entrance of #1 Love Place.
I don’t spot them right away, but as soon as I reach the entrance to the dog park, I see Jay in a black T-shirt and gray sweatpants and Salty in what can only be described as a designer doggie hoodie, chewing on a pink rubber pig toy with murderous intent.
My pulse skyrockets.
I try to play it cool and wait for him to notice me.
When Salty makes a beeline straight for me, Jay glances up, spotting me.
My insides turn to mush as he breaks into a slow, heated smile.
That causes me to lose the ability to walk like a normal person.
My tennis shoe snags on the edge of the sidewalk, I overcorrect, and my tote bag does a nosedive right onto the sidewalk.
At least I zipped it before I left school today, so the contents stay safely inside it, but I’m not so lucky.
I see the sidewalk rushing up to me and brace for the impact.
At the last minute, a pair of hands grabs me and yanks me upright. Somehow, I end up against a wall of muscle with my face pressed into Jay’s chest. I catch a whiff of him, clean skin and something expensive. My brain short-circuits in a literal blue screen of death.
“This seems to be a habit for you,” he says, still grinning as he sets me back on my feet and leans down to retrieve my white tote bag.
“You have no freaking idea,” I deadpan, pretending like my cheeks aren’t on fire. Salty, for his part, waddles over and sniffs my tote bag.
The little Frenchie isn’t subtle. Salty shoves his whole snorty nose into the bag’s side pocket, probably hunting for the emergency granola bar I keep for classroom blood sugar emergencies.
His little tongue darts out, and he snuffles at the zipper with a noise that can only be described as “indignant piggy rooting.”
I bend over and yank my bag away at the last second and laugh. “Sorry, little guy. You’re not getting my snack stash. I need it more than you.”
Jay is watching this like it’s the most entertaining thing he’s seen all week. He tilts his head and leans in just a little, voice low and smooth. “What are you doing for dinner tonight?”
I blink. And then I do it again, like maybe my vision will reset if I double-check myself. Dinner? I haven’t even thought that far ahead. “Uh, probably whatever I have in my freezer that microwaves in five minutes or less.”
He snorts, not even bothering to hide the I-called-it smile in his voice. “As appetizing as that sounds, you could have dinner with Salty and me instead. We’re having pizza tonight.”
Dinner. With Jay. My heart does cartwheels, telling me to jump at this chance.
But I can’t. “Pizza is my favorite meal.” That’s an understatement.
I could eat pizza for lunch and dinner every single day and never get tired of it.
“And I’d love to have dinner with you guys, but I can’t do it tonight.
” He goes still. The smile dips, just for a second, and I instantly want to take it back.
I scramble for words. “Tomorrow is the last day before break, and I have to finish up my grading and input report cards or the principal will murder me.”
Jay’s gaze pins me. His eyes are molten, hot enough to melt through every last excuse. My knees almost buckle.
He takes a step closer, so close I have to tilt my head up.
“Tomorrow, then,” he rumbles. His voice is so deep I feel it between my legs. “We can celebrate your week-long escape from the munchkin crew.”
I nod so fast I probably look deranged. “Tomorrow sounds great.”
Jay’s eyes go molten. He steps back just enough to keep me upright, but keeps a hand on my lower back, like he’s not letting me get away even if I try. I’m trapped against his body with my heartbeat jackhammering against my ribs.
“So, it’s a date,” he says, and his voice is thick velvet. “Give me your phone.” I don’t even consider refusing.
I fumble my phone out of my bag. My hands are actually shaking. I cannot deal with how hot this man is. He takes my phone, brushes his thumb over my wrist, and adds his number. Sends himself a text, just to be sure. “Now you’re stuck with me,” he says, mouth close to my ear.
Oh my God.
“Come on.” He takes my heavy tote bag and slings it over his shoulder.
“We’ll walk you to your door.” He takes my hand in his, and I feel the contact all the way to my soul.
Salty trots between us like a little furry chaperone.
The elevator is crowded, packed with after-work neighbors and what feels like a thousand shopping bags.
Jay tugs me in close, all big, steady heat.
His hand spreads across my lower back, possessive and gentle at the same time.
I melt into him. Salty, who refuses to be trampled by peasants, gets scooped up and rides in Jay’s other arm like a little furry prince.
I try to act normal, but Jay’s chest is pressed to my shoulder, and his mouth is right by my hair, and I can smell his rich, earthy scent. Speaking of licking, Salty leans over and gives me a quick, snorty kiss right on the cheek, and my heart actually hiccups. Not just for Jay. For both of them.
God help me, the Frenchie is growing on me, too. By the time we make it to my door, I’m basically floating. Or possibly vibrating. Jay sets Salty down, crowding me just a little, his arm braced above my head. He looks at me like I’m the only thing in his universe.
Holy shit. I’m in so much trouble here.
He leans in, so close I could count his eyelashes, and brushes his mouth over mine. It’s barely a kiss, more a warm, dizzying tease, but my lady bits wake up and sing “Hallelujah.”
He grins, that lethal, slow-burning smile. “Couldn’t let Salty outdo me,” he murmurs, voice pure sin.
My knees are jelly. My brain? Gone. I need to get out of here before I embarrass myself even more.
“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” I tell Jay as he hands me my tote bag.
I manage to fumble my keycard, get inside, and shut the door, but I don’t even make it two steps before I’m sagging against the wood, hands pressed over my heart as a huge smile breaks out on my face.
I can’t stop grinning. Not even for a second.
My cheeks ache. I probably look deranged as I strip off my jeans and collapse on my bed, clutching a pillow to my chest like a twelve-year-old with a crush.
Jay’s smile is burned onto my retinas. That kiss.
The way his hand spread across my back like he owned me already.
The way he looked at me like I was a thousand-dollar dessert and he’d skipped lunch and dinner.
I barely sleep. I toss, I turn, I replay every second of him, that velvet-rough voice in my ear, the way he watched my mouth when I talked. It’s a miracle I’m not late to school.
My third graders smell freedom in the air and immediately transform into sugar-fueled goblins.
I spend all morning dragging people off the floor, confiscating slime, and running emergency damage control on a sparkly explosion that somehow involves two tubes of glitter gel and a glue stick. By noon, I’ve lost the will to live.
I flop into my seat in the teacher’s lounge, rip open my sad sandwich, and check my phone. My hands are shaking. There, glowing on the screen, is a new text.
Jay
I’m counting down the hours until tonight.
Holy. Shit. I’m actually swooning. I type out several replies before I finally settle on one.
Me
I can’t wait either.
Jay
What do you want on your pizza?
Me
Are you guys doing pizza two nights in a row?
Jay
We skipped last night so we could have pizza with you tonight. What do you like on your pizza?
My heart melts. Actually, it liquifies. All that’s left of me is a puddle of goo.
I type back with shaking fingers:
Me
Sausage, mushrooms, extra cheese, and a little jalapeno if you’re feeling dangerous.
Jay
Danger is my middle name. We’ll be ready at 6. Come on up.
I’m pretty sure I make an embarrassing sound. Oof. I glance around, but the only witnesses are a pair of traumatized kindergarten teachers, who are already working on a nervous breakdown, so they won’t remember my tiny display. Everything is fine. I’m totally fine.