Teach Me Like That (LMLT Book 2) (7 page)

“Yes,” she says sadly. “They’ve been gone for just over three years now.”

“Together?”

She nods.

“That’s horrible,” I say without thinking.

She huffs a sad laugh. “Yeah. Car accident. Drunk driver.” She offers nothing else.

I step closer to her, regretting opening my stupid fucking mouth since remembering her grandparents’ death is bringing her distress. I cup her jaw in my hand and tilt her face up to mine. I lean in slowly to kiss her just as I realize how fucked up it would be to take advantage of this situation. Sad, broken Lexi Carter is not who she normally is. I’m an asshole most days, but today won’t be one of them.

She blinks slowly as if accepting what I want to offer, but I take a step back instead. Her cheeks flush again as embarrassment hits her.

I really want to ask her details about the accident. My uncle’s drunk driving accident was almost three years ago as well. The last name Carter isn’t familiar to me, but just the thought that it could be the same crash makes my stomach turn.

I clear my throat, my mouth suddenly dry.

“What did you want?” she all but snaps in my direction.

There’s the feisty woman I want to spend my time with.

“I’ll have the girls again tomorrow afternoon,” I begin. “I was hoping you’d tag along, so they don’t murder me.”

She laughs good-naturedly. Her change in mood relieves some of the tension in my shoulders. “Those girls don’t have a devious bone in their bodies.”

“Wolves in sheep’s clothing,” I mutter.

She frowns. “You don’t have much experience with children do you?”

I shake my head. “No real desire to gain any either, but London and Kadin are in a pinch at the hospital and my parents have plans. That leaves Uncle Kegan. Believe me; I’m their last resort.”

She gasps and holds her hand to her throat. “Easton?” I nod. “The girls have been scared for him.”

“Spinal meningitis,” I confide.

Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears at my news.

“I just need to keep them entertained for a few hours until my parents get back home. Want to help me out?” I smile wide and plead with my eyes. There also may have been a wink and smirk filled with innuendo thrown in for good measure.

“No,” she responds without even giving it a second thought.

My brows knit together. Not the answer I was hoping for.

“Okay.” I turn toward the door feeling thoroughly shot down. A woman immune to my charm? I guess unicorns are real.

“But,” she says halting my feet in their tracks. “I will go to help them out. There’s no telling what kind of trouble you’ll get
them
into.”

I wait until I’m out of her line of site and back at my truck before I fist pump the air.

Lexi

What the hell am I thinking?

I don’t mind helping with the girls when Kadin and London are in a pinch. I’m now Lennox and Anastyn’s teacher, but I’ve known London for a while. I’d even consider her a friend. She and Jillian worked together for a while at the law firm Hawke and Justin own.

But, I know for a fact that help with the kids isn’t all Kegan has on his mind. Still doesn’t explain why he stepped back instead of kissing me. I could see the desire in his eyes. He wanted it, but something kept him from following through.

I cup my hand over my mouth and breathe into it. Nope, my breath is fine. Maybe the mood was wrong in my grandparents’ mausoleum of a living room?

The bigger question is why am I even worried about it?

Did I want him to kiss me? I can admit that I had a weak moment and thought for a brief second that his lips on mine were the way to go, but I know I can’t act on any type of ‘extra-curricular’ activities with Kegan Cole.

I shake my head, trying to get his blue eyes out of my head as I walk back to the kitchen and grab a container of Clorox wipes. I’m not looking forward to the mess in the den.

I try not to think about the disappointed look I know I’d see in my grandfather’s eyes if he saw what I’ve done to his hardwood floor. After two hours of scrubbing every single dot of neon green paint off of the floor, I don't even have the energy to actually try to paint the walls. Besides, I’d have to run back to the hardware store to buy more.

So I do what I do every time I get bored, I call Jillian.

“What’s up?” Jillian says as she answers the phone.

“Why are you breathing so hard? Oh God, did you answer the phone in the middle of sex again? Jillian, I told you to stop doing that!”

She laughs loudly. So loudly, in fact, I have to pull the phone from my ear until she calms down. “No. I’m at the gym. But there is a guy here who seems like he might be down for an afternoon romp.”

“Romp? Seriously, Jillian?” I sigh and settle on my bed.

“Don’t judge me,” she says firmly, but I can hear the smile in her voice. “Just because you’re all dried up doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun.”

“A little fun,” I say with a laugh. “I’ve known hookers who are less promiscuous than you!”

“Hey!” she yells indignantly. “Enough with the slut shaming!”

“Okay, okay,” I agree. This is another conversation we seem to have fairly often.

“Are you calling to try to make me feel bad about my healthy sexual appetite? Because you know that will never happen.”

“I would never shame you,” I say.

I’ll never tell her that I’m actually jealous of her ability to go out and have a good time without feeling regret and reproach. Don’t get me wrong, I do it on occasion, a girl has needs, but I don’t live my life seeking the next man in my bed like Jillian does.

“Hey, handsome,” Jillian coos at her next target.

“Jill,” I sigh into the phone. “Did I tell you that I met Kegan Cole?”

“You didn’t,” she says returning her focus back to our phone call. “He’s a fine specimen. I’ve seen him a few times in the office over the years. I think London told me her girls go to your school.”

“Both of them are in my class this year,” I confirm. “Kegan brought them earlier this week.”

“Like what you saw, didn’t you?”

“He just left my house a few hours ago,” I say toying with her, knowing her mind is going straight to the gutter.

“You dirty bitch,” she says in a hushed tone. “I’d climb that man like a stripper pole!”

A sick feeling hits my gut. “Have you? Did you and he hook up?”

“What? No! He’s not really my type. You should know that,” she argues.

I know what her type is, and I also know what type she pretends is her type.

“He’s a construction worker, rugged, and hot as sin. That screams your type.”

“He’s a businessman and his family has more money than Croesus.”

And there lies the problem. Her taste in men is very singular. Well, her ideal man is actually one man, Hawthorne Pratt, a lawyer, a businessman. So Jillian pretends her tastes go to the opposite of that, the antithesis of Hawke. She seeks out the tatted up bad boys, the men she’d never risk losing her heart to.

I remain silent because Hawke is a conversation we avoid at all cost, while we’re sober at least.

“So no, I haven’t touched Kegan Cole, but from the tone of your voice, you sound like you want to,” she says.

“I’m helping him with the girls tomorrow. London’s little boy is sick, and Kegan doesn’t seem like he can handle the girls by himself,” I explain.

“You have a date with him tomorrow?” she asks.

“Not a date,” I answer.

“You’ve made plans to spend time with him. That’s a date, babe.”

“If anything it’s a playdate.”

“Uh huh,” she says not believing a word I say. “Are you telling me he hasn’t hit on you? Because if his reputation is true, he hits on anything with big tits… oh, sorry,” she says with a chuckle.

“Ha ha,” I say into the phone.

It’s a fact; I have tiny little breasts. I don’t have body image problems. I’m not one of those girls. I like to run, so my small breasts benefit me in that department. I’ve spent way too much time and money on therapy to have self-esteem problems.

For some reason, though, I feel the need to defend my sex appeal to Jillian.

“He’s a relentless flirt.” It’s all I can really attest to, because when he had the opportunity earlier to kiss me, he backed off. So much for not having self-esteem problems.

Suddenly, I’m second guessing my call to Jillian to gossip about Kegan.

I know what her advice will be because it’s always the same. “
Hit that
.”

“You know what you need to do?” she says. “You know you gotta hit that.”

I laugh at her predictability.

“Not gonna happen.”

“No reason not to,” she says.

“I can lose my job,” I try to explain.

“Pish posh,” she says dismissively. “Do you plan to marry him?”

“Don’t be dumb,” I tell her.

“Then what’s the big deal. Hit it, get it out of your system, move on. Who would even know?”

She has a valid point, but still it’s a huge risk to take.

Hold on.

Why am I even considering it?

“I’m really not that interested.”

“If you weren’t interested, we wouldn’t be discussing it.”

Good point.

“Hey, I’ve got to go. If I stay on the phone any longer, I may miss my chance. He’s getting on a motorcycle!” she squeals before disconnecting the call.

Tomorrow is going to be… interesting.

“So what are you thinking?” I ask after telling the girls hello and clicking my seatbelt into place.

I almost embarrass myself trying to climb into this truck, but I have to admit, I feel pretty badass sitting up this high.

“I think a movie would be the plan,” Kegan says as he lowers the volume on the radio, almost silencing a popular teen song.

I smile at him.

“Don’t,” he begs.

“I didn’t really see you as a Belieber,” I say referencing Justin Bieber fans. “But taking a longer look at you, I can totally see it.”

He frowns. “This is what the girls like. So long as this station is playing, they don’t try to kill each other in the back seat.”

I look over my shoulder and see both of them with their hands folded delicately in their laps as they look at the window. They can feign indifference to the situation, but I’m well aware that they, along with every other child their age, are nothing but tiny little sponges that soak up information every second of their waking day.

“The girls, of course.” I nod in agreement. “So the movies?”

“Yep,” he says backing out of my driveway.

“They just got finished with church?”

“Yep,” he repeats.

“No movie,” I say. “Not yet at least.”

“No?” he says confused.

“They’ve been sitting in a pew for over an hour. If you expect them to behave during a movie, they need to run off some energy.”

“God, I’m glad you’re here,” he says turning right at the end of my driveway.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re pulling into a small community park. The girls squeal in excitement as they bound out of the backseat of the truck and run toward the slide and swings.

“See,” I tell him pointing at the girls. “They never would’ve kept that under control in a dark theater.”

He points to a bench and guides me toward it with a hand on my lower back. I discovered something new today. Walking and clenching my thighs are almost impossible to do at the same time.

“Why are you fighting this?” he asks with his eyes still on the frolicking girls.

“Fighting what?” I ask even though I kind of know what he’s talking about.

“Us,” he says softly.

“Oh, I didn’t realize there was an
us
.” I pull my hand to my throat and bat my eyelashes like a damsel in distress, sarcastically of course.

His eyes widen when he realizes he just sounded like he wanted some sort of relationship. “You know what I mean. There’s chemistry. Things between us would be explosive.”

I have no doubt about that, but coming together in fiery passion and my heart exploding when he leaves really isn’t something I’m interested in.

Kegan Cole satisfies an incredibly long list of traits I find damn near irresistible in men.

He’s funny, insanely sexy, just the right amount of cocky, and has some of the biggest hands I’ve ever seen. I know what you’re thinking, and the size of his hands doesn’t have anything to do with me wondering about the size of his… you know. It does, however, have everything to do with how I love nothing more than huge hands spreading the expanse of my back, my stomach, thick fingers in my… damn is the sun suddenly closer to the earth?

I pull my t-shirt away from my chest and fluff it in and out to cool my warm skin.

His lip twitches up. Apparently, he’s an expert on social cues as well.

“I imagine things between us would be explosive,” I say quietly.

His grin widens as if he’s already sealed the deal.

“I’m sure when my job found out I hooked up with a relative of one of my students, my life would be blown to smithereens.” His smile falters. “Explosive,” I say with hand motions of my life imploding.

“It’s just sex,” he says.

“
Just sex
isn’t worth the risk,” I mumble getting up from my seat to go push Lennox on the swing.