Second Chances
Authors: D.L. Roan
Second Chances
by
D.L. Roan
Copyright 2013
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or deceased, business establishments, events or physical locations are entirely coincidental.
WARNING:
This book contains the following: explicit sex, anal sex, graphic language, ménage a quatre and violence. Oh, and three flawed and sexy cowboys that will slip into your heart and fantasies and rock your world! Recommended for the adult reader only.
Table of Contents
Vanessa, you are amazing, chica. Thank you for making me believe I could do this. Your willingness to try new things, no matter how weird or outrageous, inspires me to keep going when I can’t see the end. Andrea, thank you for being real and loving my stories. The time you spend editing all those pages makes my stories possible. You are irreplaceable as both a fan and a friend. Mom, I hope you never read this. Thank you for forgiving the days gone by with no phone call while I was glued to my laptop exorcising my characters’ lusts. Finally, but most importantly, I thank my wonderful husband, who reads everything I write and entertains the characters inside my head, even if he’s had a long day at work and I’ve forgotten to make the bread. Yeah, I know.
That was a long sentence, honey
. I laugh with you always. You are the love of my life and my perfectly flawed hero.
Running a sweaty palm over a non-existent wrinkle in her prim, knee-length skirt, Claira Robbins closed her eyes and drug in a deep, calming breath. Though it wasn’t her first time subbing as a first grade teacher, it was her first day at Grasslands Academy and really, the first day of her new life. She was nervous, but determined not to let it affect her. She was safe, hidden in the quiet, small town that lay in the valley of Nowherville, Montana, her past well behind her. Or so she’d been told.
I’m safe here.
She repeated the mantra silently, willing herself to believe it.
She’d always fallen
in love with each and every one of the children she helped. This time would be no different. Remembering the ones she’d left behind, the ones she would never see grow into their exuberant personalities, her next breath came out a little shaky and she gave herself a mental shake. The position was only a substitute one, and only a few weeks remained until the end of the school year at that. Even so, she held on desperately to the hope that she would soon find a new, more permanent position and build new relationships with other students. She had to.
Her
heart leapt at the sound of the first screech of laughter that filled the hall. Unable to contain her smile, or her raw nerves, she jumped from the chair at her desk and hurried to the open door of her classroom to greet the children as they began to trickle down the hall. One by one, she took the time to greet each child with a brisk handshake, asking their names and introducing herself. She knew it was a little silly, and probably resonated ‘
newbie’
, but she couldn’t help herself. It had been so long since she’d been able to embrace the kind of pure innocence and love only a child could give.
Ignoring the
condescending smirks from a few of the other teachers as they passed by on their way to their own perspective classes, Claira welcomed her last student and closed the classroom door. Facing her new brood, she clapped her hands and began a round-robin game her mentor had taught her to help learn the children’s names, wondering instantly which child would be her class clown. She always sought out him or her first, hoping to make a fast friend and settle her nerves. Right off she had taken to the sandy-haired, twin boys. Conner and Carson—or, Con and Car, they’d not so shyly informed her—quickly took to the teacher’s helper roles in the class dynamics. They jumped at the chance to help her arrange the little desks into a circle for the round robin game.
Complete opposites from Con and Car,
Claira noticed that little Meg Blakely and her friend Ginger quickly assumed the shy rolls. They huddled together in the back of the class and barely spoke above a whisper, even to themselves. During the round robin name game, Meg wouldn’t speak in front of the class at all, only allowing Ginger to answer for her when it was her turn to say her name. Claira made a mental note to take a look into Meg’s student file and ask the school counselor if there was anything she should know about Meg that could help her overcome, or at least understand, the girl’s crippling shyness. Sure she was only a temp, but it would be nice to put her
almost
degree in child psychology to good use.
It took more than half the day, but wh
en Robbie Nichols stood, green paint covering all but the whites of his eyes as he strained his little biceps in a Hulk pose and growled a perfect imitation of the super hero, she knew she had found her class clown. She studied him for only a second before she grabbed a nearby cup of green paint, scooped out a big glob and smeared it over her own cheeks, striking a strong-man pose that mimicked Robbie’s as she let out her own thunderous roar.
The class went
deafeningly silent. Only the subtle noise of someone behind her clearing their throat filled the room. Sweat broke out instantly between her shoulder blades and her stomach plummeted.
This is not happening.
Following
the stares of her students over her shoulder, her hands slowly dropped to her sides as she turned to see Mr. Dawes, the school principal. Beside him stood probably the most intimidating, heart-stutteringly handsome man she’d ever seen. Taking in the crisp black suit Mr. Calendar Model wore like a suit of armor—and he was definitely sexy enough to get a whole calendar to himself—a jolt of embarrassing self-awareness danced over her skin. Her gaze snapped back to the principal as he cleared his throat with another grunt of disapproval. How oddly frail and frumpy he looked standing next to the green eyed god.
“Miss
Robbins?” Principal Dawes dipped his head and peered over the rim of his wire framed glasses.
Reality of the situation fell across her shoulders like a wet blanket.
Her boss, her
new
boss, was standing there with Mr. January as she posed as the new runway model for green finger paint. She was never going to get that full time position. By the haughty look on his face, and the straining smirk pulling at the other man’s lips, she would be lucky if she wasn’t run out of town, the hounds of hell nipping at her heels.
Dramatic much, Claira?
S
he knew what the looks on their faces meant. She’d seen it countless times before on her own father’s face. Everyone was beneath him, including her. These people assumed themselves better than her as well. Their small minded thoughts echoed in their expressions. Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding had quickly masked his amusement and now glared at her with unmistakable distain. No way in hell were they going to make her feel like a second class human, but she still had to play nice if she had any hope of salvaging this job.
Well, here goes nothing
.
“We were just wrapping
up our arts and crafts hour, Principal Dawes.” She spoke in her best haughty tone and wiped her hand down her skirt, smearing a big, green handprint down the front of the beige cotton material.
Brilliant!
Completing a mental eye roll at her stupidity, she jerked her hand away and gestured toward the little hulk impersonator. “Robbie has quite the imagination and acting talent for such a young…”
“Miss
Robbins!” Principal Dawes closed his eyes, peeled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, holding up his other hand to stop her interpretation of the obviously offensive scene. His shoulders dropped in exasperation as he let out a frustrated breath and propped his bifocals back onto his overly prominent nose. “Mr. McLendon is here to collect the twins, Miss Robbins.”
She turned to see C
onner and Carson, noticing the somber expressions on their faces as they neatly and quietly packed their things away into their desks and made their way to the door. She looked back at Principal Dawes and Mr. Janu…Uh…Mr. McLendon as he knelt onto his haunches and whispered something to the boys. They certainly didn’t seem happy to see one another. Taking one of their little backpacks, Mr. McLendon shot the principal a searing glance and ushered the boys down the hall and out of sight.
Uh-huh
. No way was she going to see a full week’s paycheck, much less the few weeks that were left of the school year while Mrs. Wittington finished out her maternity leave. She wondered what atrocity the temp before her had committed to be fired within her first week. She obviously had that beat hands down.
“Get the rest of the children cleaned up b
efore the other parents arrive,” the principal snapped out as he stared over his glasses once again. He took one more glance around the room as if he were expecting it to be covered with graffiti, or some other offensive form of art, then left without another word, the door clicking closed behind him.
Claira let out a breath she didn’t
realize she had been holding and rested her hands on her hips, green paint and all.
“
Dat’s Beaker Dolls.” A quirky voice pulled her attention away from the dread that began building in her chest. “He’s dot a big nose.” Claira turned to find Robbie holding his green finger in front of his nose, arched in a perfect imitation of Principal Dawes’ big snout.
Walking over to the small sink in the back of the classroom, Claira couldn’t help but chuckle at Robbie, and herself if the truth be known.
She’d have to work on his pronunciation and his manners.
If I’m allowed to stay longer than today.
She grabbed up a stack of paper towels, ran them under a stream of water then walked over to Robbie. “Imitation is the finest form of flattery, but I don’t think Principal Dawes would appreciate that fact right now.”
Or
ever
. She would just bet that he was getting an ear full from Mr. McLendon.
