Page 4 of Fall for You (Flirting with Forever 4)

“Let’s get this done, then, baby girl.” I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

Becky gives a sharp rap to the door, and we wait until we hear a “Come in” from the other side. The voice seems somewhat familiar, but I shake it off; I must recognize it from the recorded video lessons I’ve heard Olivia watching and re-watching as part of her homework assignments. In fact, earlier this week, I’d heard a portion of a lab experiment Olivia had been watching on her laptop at the kitchen table while I cooked dinner.

Olivia and Becky precede me into the room. As I enter, I can only see the top of the teacher’s head beyond theirs. I must have blinked just before they step aside because when I open my eyes, I’m completely barreled over.

My heart takes off at a gallop.

I’m speechless.

Floored.

Bewildered.

Standing before me, her hand outstretched in greeting, is who I know must be Ms. Lockmore, the biology teacher. All that screams through my mind, though, is Holy shit, what is my hotter-than-hell hookup doing here? Because that’s exactly who this is—Quinn, gorgeous, enchanting Quinn, who has been out to my cider mill several times in the last month, first with her friends and a couple of times since on her own.

I’m not sure how long I stare at her with my mouth agape—it could have been a split second or a few minutes for all I know. Stunned and shocked, I can’t think or say anything remotely coherent. It’s like my brain is jammed, and I’m incapable of deciphering exactly how I’m supposed to react to this troublesome surprise.

Slowly, I come to my senses and take her hand, giving it a quick shake. Those hands. They’re that of a supposed stranger, but are familiar all the same. Oh, fuck. Memories of the night she’d come back to pick up her friend’s gloves and hat assail me from all sides. Her smile, her arched brow, her come-hither stare … I give myself a quick internal shake. I’m not sure how to handle this. How do I ignore the echoes of one of the hottest nights of my life so that I can actually talk to her? How do we do this without having to explain to Becky why we’re acting oddly toward one another? Because I don’t know how I’m supposed to look this woman in the eye when I know she’s partial to front-clasp bras and lace panties. If there’s a divine power, I really wish it would intervene right about now on my behalf and somehow make this easier for me.

I clear my throat roughly as I look into her unique light-hazel eyes for the first time—today. What I see there makes me more than a little nervous. She’s hiding unsettled panic, though she’s making a valiant attempt to rein it in. I sure hope she can hold herself together until we get through this. “Hello, Ms. Lockmore. I’m Olivia’s dad, Liam. We exchanged e-mails last week.”

“So we did. It’s nice to meet both of you.” She smiles first at me, then at Becky. There’

s a slight tremor to her lips, and I notice her hands are a little shaky right before she tucks them into the pockets of her navy dress pants.

It’s a mistake to allow my eyes to follow the path her hands took because they zoom right to the slight curve of her hips before traveling the long, long length of her slim legs. They stop to study the pair of kick-ass heels she’s wearing. My eyes then flick back up to her face when she asks Olivia if she’d like to go get a snack from the vending machine in the gym, her treat.

Olivia’s eyes light up, but she silently questions me and Becky. At our nods of approval, she answers with delight, “Yes, please.” It’s almost comical how relieved she looks, like she’s been given a get-out-of-jail-free card in the form of a one-dollar bill.

Ms. Lockmore—aka the woman whose lips taste of peppermint-flavored lip balm—gives her a reassuring smile. “Give us fifteen minutes, then come back and join us, and we’ll discuss a few things with you.” She pauses, studying Olivia’s pale, freckled face. “Everything will be fine. I’d just like a chance to speak to your parents alone for a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Olivia pinches the dollar bill that Quinn extends toward her between two fingers and shuffles back out the door, her Converse squeaking on the tiled floor as she rounds the corner.

Quinn gestures to the seats arranged across from her desk before she walks behind it and has a seat in her office chair. She pulls her laptop toward her, and after a few clicks, she turns the screen to where we can see. “So, Olivia started out the year fairly average. She was a high-C or low-B student most of the time.” As she looks back and forth between Becky and me, she chews on her bottom lip.

Her plump, delicious, soft, minty lip.

“I didn’t notice a definitive change until this last nine-week period when her grades really started to slip. Her homework wasn’t always coming in, and her quiz and test grades this quarter are undeniably lower than they have been.”

Becky’s brows draw together. “Well, is the subject material all of a sudden more difficult? Is she possibly just a little lost and needs more study time?”

“No. I wouldn’t say so, not about it being more difficult, anyway. I mean, it’s tenth-grade biology. Most students do just fine. And the thing is, I’d say your Olivia is smarter than the average student.” A slow smile crosses her face. “But then, I’m sure you’re aware that she’s intelligent.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Sure. She’s always been a bright kid. I don’t understand what’s happened.” I steal a glance at Becky before my gaze swings back to Quinn. “Despite whatever is going on, the reality is right now she has an F. What can her mother and I do to help? What would you suggest?”

I badly want to yank Quinn into the hallway and ask her how I didn’t know she was a teacher at my kid’s school, much less how I didn’t know she’s a teacher who interacts with my child multiple times a week. How has this never come up? How did we not realize?

Right, Liam. Easy answer. You were both way too busy using your mouths for things other than talking.

Quinn takes a deep breath before folding her hands together and placing them on the desk in front of her. “She has plenty of assignments she can make up for extra points.” She points to a couple of spots on the screen where the assignment is followed by a zero. “And I feel like she’s somehow been distracted during class. I’m not completely sure by what, but I think she could probably benefit from a few after-school tutoring sessions.”

Becky immediately asks, “Tell me about tutoring. Would that be with you?”

Not what I was going to ask about first. My ex-wife and I seem to have grasped onto different parts of what Quinn has just said, seeing different things as more important.

Quinn shakes her head. “Usually we buddy them up with an older student who is looking to earn some extra credit or service hours for their college applications.”

“But what if we want you?” Becky grits her teeth together.

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