Page 10 of Just This Once

She shrugged. “Kids are forgetful. It’s probably nothing.”

My lips pressed together, and I tamped down the unease in my belly. “You’re probably right.”

Rachel took a step toward her room. “Tonight. Please consider it.”

I smiled at her. “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

She pointed one long manicured nail at me. “You better. Don’t you lie to me, Warden.”

I raised my hand in surrender. “I wouldnever. I promise I’ll think about it.”

She lifted her coffee mug in salute to another day of shaping the future. I laughed, raised my mug with hers, and took another sip of my morning coffee.

Once inside, my gaze floated over the twenty-six student desks in carefully arranged clusters around my room.

My classroom.

I drew one resolute breath and exhaled, shoving down every unwelcomed thought of Whip King. “All right, let’s do this.”

My fingers tappedout a nervous rhythm against the outside of my thigh as my eyes swept through the Grudge.

This is a terrible idea.

For nearly two months I had successfully avoided this place, turning down any invite for a night out or drinks after work for fear I might run into him. Six of us had met outside, and I tucked myself into the middle of the clump of teachers, hoping to be invisible. People were already congregating in small clusters throughout the bar. A banner announced a live band, and it seemed others had the same idea we did about unwinding after a stressful workweek.

I shifted toward the east side, looking for a table big enough to accommodate our group.

“There’s one over there,” Rachel called out to us, pointing to a long table tucked against the wall of the west side. “Does that look good?” she asked.

“You chose last time,” Becca, a seventh-grade teacher, chimed in. “Rock-paper-scissors for it?”

I watched in awe as two grown women pumped their fists and chanted, “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

“Ha!” Rachel cheered when her paper beat Becca’s rock. “Sullivan side for the win.”

“Fine, let’s snag it,” Becca grumbled. “I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway.”

Oh, I think it very much matters.

Despite the heat prickling along my hairline, I followed the group and took a seat with my back against the far wall so I could look out onto the bar and dance floor.

Rachel sat next to me, plucking a plastic menu from between the napkin dispenser and ketchup bottle.

“Have you ever been here?” she asked as she scanned the menu. “They’ve got great food and even better music. It’s usually a really good time.”

Becca leaned across the table with a smirk. “There’s also amazing eye candy.” She jerked her head toward the middle ofthe room. “The men around here are something else. I swear there’s got to be something in that Lake Michigan water.”

“Which is why”—Rachel waggled her eyebrows—“no one can ever agree on which side to pick. Once the tourist season picks up, the eye candy gets even better, if you can believe it.” She shimmied her shoulders. “Nothing says school’s out like a hot little summer fling.”

A thin smile flattened my lips.

“I wouldn’t mind having a fling with someone likethat.” Becca jutted her chin toward the far corner of the bar.

I knew those broad shoulders. The nip of his waist. My hands had roamed over every curve of his muscular ass. Heat clawed up my throat and cheeks as I tried to sink lower in my seat, using Becca’s body to hide behind.

Whip stood shoulder to shoulder with another man, leaning over the oak bar and giving me a perfect view of his backside. When Whip’s counterpart turned, I blinked in surprise. Whip had mentioned brothers, but the similarities between these two were striking.

When Whip had stripped out of his jeans and long-sleeved shirt, he had revealed beautiful tattoos that trailed along his arms and torso. This man next to him was extensively covered and held that same dangerous glint in his eye that had drawn me to Whip. Recognition from seeing him at the tattoo shop washed over me. He leaned in and said something to Whip. They both laughed as Whip turned to face the open space of the Grudge.

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