CHAPTER 7 KAYLEE
I told Jason I’d meet him at the restaurant mostly because having him pick me up at home isn’t really an option considering I live with one of the most famous quarterbacks to ever play football.
It’s just easier this way.
I get there before he does, and I’m already sitting at a table with a drink when he walks in.
I texted him to let him know where I am, and he saunters over to the table.
My eyes are on him the entire way, and he’s grinning.
He’s attractive—tall and a little on the lanky side, but he has these warm brown eyes that look like the color of chocolate.
“Finally,” he says when he sits down. He shakes his head.
“Finally what?” I ask with a polite smile to greet him.
“Finally we’re on a date together. I’ve dreamed of this moment since we first met.”
I laugh. “Shut up, Barnes.”
“I’m serious, Dalton.”
I giggle again and pick up my vodka-Seven. The waitress swings by and he orders a beer. He glances at the menu, which I already did before he arrived, and then he looks up at me.
“I got in trouble today,” I say. I hold my drink lazily in one hand.
“At school?” he asks.
I nod.
“For what?”
“For texting you.” I hold the drink up in his direction as if I’m pointing at him.
He chuckles. “Why really?”
“Because Janet Murphy fucking hates me.”
“Why does she hate you?” he asks.
Because she’s a Seattle fan. I nearly blurt out the words, but I don’t want to steer the conversation toward my brothers.
It’s not a well-kept secret that I’m related to Jack and Luke Dalton even though I tried my hardest to keep it quiet when I first started this job.
It only took one Instagram pic from Luke’s wedding to give me away, never mind the media frenzy when I go with Jack to the freaking gas station.
Still, though. I don’t know if Jason knows, and I don’t want to bring it up on our first date.
So rather than admit the truth, I shrug. “I think she’s just being hard on me because it’s my first year.”
“How’s she hard on you?”
“She put me at the top of the list for sub rotation, and she starts it over every week so I’m guaranteed to have to sub for someone during my prep time.
She pops in for unannounced observations weekly at a minimum, and today she popped in with Mr. Delnor while I was sitting at my desk texting you and my students were working on a packet. ”
“Oh no.” He makes a face of horror. “The dreaded packet.”
I raise my brows and nod. “She makes me feel like I’m incompetent.”
“Your students seem to like you,” he says.
I narrow my eyes at him. “And how do you know that?”
He shrugs. “You hear things, you know? They walk in from your class to mine and talk about the enchanting lesson from their hot teacher.”
“Pfft,” I scoff, holding up a hand. “Please. I hope twelve-year-old kids aren’t really calling me hot.”
“No, that was my line.” He smiles, and then the waitress comes over to take our food orders, and so far it feels like this date is going pretty well.
It’s not small talk like the last date I went on since we already have some common ground at school.
We chat about the principal—he thinks Janet and Mr. Delnor are secretly boning, while I think Mr. Delnor is secretly boning his secretary, but either way, Delnor is definitely boning somebody at work—and we chat about how the copy machine always jams and the attendance clerk always has the best candy on her desk.
It’s right before the food comes that he asks the dreaded question, though, and it’s that exact moment when our nice date takes a turn. “So what’s it like being related to two of the best football players in the league?”
I blow out a breath.
He doesn’t know he just ruined our date, but now I know why he so desperately wanted to ask me out.
It’s why everybody so desperately wants to hang out with me, and it’s never because they really want to hang out with me.
It’s because they want one of three things: the chance to hang out with my brothers, intel on my brothers, or tickets to a game.
The food hasn’t even arrived yet, but that’s my number one deal breaker. Maybe it’s harsh, but just for once in this life, I’d like to go on a date with someone who doesn’t give a shit about my brothers.
I grab my purse and I stand. “It’s been nice chatting with you, but it turns out I have to go.”
“But our meals haven’t even gotten here yet,” he protests, and I know he’s protesting because he just lost his chance at Jack and Luke, not because he’s missing out on a date with me.
“Take mine to go. You can reheat it for lunch this week.”
He stands. “Kaylee, just wait a minute. Why are you leaving? Did I do something wrong?”
I blink back tears at his question. “You’re a nice guy, Jason. But just for once in my life, I want someone who wants to be with me…not with my brothers. Have a good night.” I turn and walk out of the restaurant.
I didn’t even finish my first drink, so I’m good to drive myself back home to Jack’s place. When I pull into the driveway, I spot Ben’s huge red and black Scout…and for some reason, my heart lifts just a little.
It’s a hot truck, for sure. It’s older but restored to mint condition. It has two doors and a removable hard top, and it’s exactly the car you’d picture someone like Ben driving. But that’s not why my heart lifts.
Suddenly it feels like another shitty night might just turn around.
I walk in through the front door, and Ben is collapsed on the ginormous couch a few feet away from Jack. They’re watching some football game.
“See?” Jack says to Ben, and he pauses the game. “Right there. Newsome missed the block.” He glances over at me. “You’re home early.”
I press my lips together and nod before I collapse onto the chaise lounge part of the couch which incidentally is in smelling distance of Ben, and he smells like fresh laundry. It’s warm and inviting and…wait a minute.
This is the douchebag who hangs out at strip clubs for sport. This is the guy who thinks it’s funny to crush beer cans against his head.
But damn, he is both looking and smelling fine tonight.
“How was the date?” Kate’s voice asks from the kitchen table.
“Shitty,” I answer.
“You were on another date?” Ben asks.
I nod. “A guy from the social studies department asked me out.”
He rolls his eyes. “Those social studies guys are the douchiest,” he scoffs.
I laugh. “But the guy who regularly hangs out at strip clubs is totally innocent.”
“She’s got a point,” Kate says from the table. “Why was the date shitty?”
We all hear a little cry over the baby monitor. “I’ll go,” Jack says.
“I’ll come with,” Kate says. “I think he’s got another tooth coming in. I swear teething feels like it never stops.”
They disappear up the steps, and I stand and walk over to the kitchen to make myself a drink. A stiff one after that date, preferably. I open the fridge to grab a can of Sprite, and when I close it, Ben’s standing on the other side.
I jump a little, startled. “You snuck up on me.”
“Sorry,” he murmurs, and he reaches out a hand to my elbow to steady me. “So where’d it all go wrong?”
“What? The date?”
He nods.
I purse my lips. “The same place it always goes wrong. He started fishing around for info on my brothers, and just once, just once, I’d like for someone to take me on a date because they’re interested in me.”
“I said it last time, and I’ll say it again,” he starts.
I hold up a hand to interrupt him. “You can stop right there. In my twenty-two years of life, I have yet to meet a guy who doesn’t lead with my brothers.
It happened once—my only relationship that lasted longer than a few weeks.
Whenever anyone finds out about Jack and Luke, the conversation changes. It always changes.”
He gazes at me for a long beat, and I’m surprised it doesn’t feel more awkward. Instead, it’s…hot. His eyes flick to my chest, where the push-up bra is doing the job it was hired to do. His eyes graze across my lips before they land back on mine, and his are a little darker.
He clears his throat and his tongue darts out to moisten his lips.
“If I had the chance to take you out, I sure as hell wouldn’t lead with your brothers.
” He takes a step toward me and reaches out to tuck my hair behind my ear.
He’s close enough that I can smell his fresh scent, and my knees start to buckle a little at his proximity as a deep ache presses between my legs.
I’m at once surprised by my body’s visceral response to him and achy all over as I want him to step even closer.
“I wouldn’t give a fuck about them.” His voice is low and gritty, and it awakens something inside me I’m not fully sure has been touched before. His eyes flick to my lips again, and my heart pounds wildly as he tilts his head down. His nose brushes against mine. “You deserve more.”
Is he going to kiss me?
Do I want him to?
Fuck. Yes. I want him to.
I’m about to tip my chin up and meet his mouth with mine when we both hear footsteps as they descend the stairs just around the corner.
He backs away from me, the moment broken as Kate walks into the kitchen babbling about Tylenol and ibuprofen.
His hot gaze stays on me, though, and the ache pressing down low tells me I need to find a time to be alone with Ben Olson. Stat.