I’m just the one who (eventually) learned from Mom’s mistakes. I’m the one who decided to be a lot more cautious when it came to giving my heart away again.
I scoop up Whiskey and cuddle him.
The little furball licks my chin. I can see why dogs make good emotional-support animals. His unconditional love is a great balm for the battered soul.
I grin at him and kiss his fuzzy little head. Then I look over to Landon. “I’m not interested in dating you. But I’m more than happy to be your friend.”
Since you can never have too many friends.
Landon doesn’t say anything more on the topic, which, fortunately, switches to something I’m happy to discuss. While he cooks dinner, I continue cuddling Whiskey and sharing my teaching tips.
At one point, I walk over to the bookshelf against the wall and study the photos on it. Most of them are of different outdoor locations—some I recognize from the US, others from South America. In each of them, Landon is with a group of men, all wearing backpacks.
I pick one up and study it. “You’ve hiked Machu Picchu?” I can’t keep the excitement out of my voice at the thought that he’s been there. We have that in common.
“I have.”
“I love hiking, and that’s one location I’ve been lucky to visit. Along with the Grand Canyon.” I nod at the bookshelf. He’s also been there.
“Do you hike often?”
“I try to go as often as I can during the spring and summer. I love getting lost in nature and forgetting all my problems waiting for me at home.”
“I feel the same way. There’s something about hoisting on a backpack and hiking.”
I return the picture frame to the bookshelf. Part of me wants to tell him that if he’s ever looking for a hiking partner…
But I don’t let the thought go too far. As much as I would love to go hiking with someone as passionate about it as I am, we’ve only known each other for a few days.
That doesn’t, though, stop us from spending the next hour talking about the different locations we’ve been to and comparing notes.
After dinner, we’re putting the dishes away in the dishwasher when Landon asks, “When are you talking to Tabitha?”
“Tomorrow night. There’s a PTA meeting then.”
Although after what Ava and Kiera told me, I don’t have a good feeling about that plan. I have no idea how I’m going to convince Tabitha to throw in her support for the Christmas show.
“What time’s the meeting?”
I tell him.
“I’ll be there.”
“Ahh, so Kiera convinced you to go shirtless for the cause after all?” Score one for my best friend.
He laughs, the sound deep and delicious. Like a warm hug on a chilly fall morning. “No, but I figure the more support you have behind the idea, the better your chances of her approving it.”
“And if that fails, you’ll go with Plan B?” I gesture at his upper body with a wave of my hand.
“How about this…if I remove my shirt for the cause, you agree to go out with me for our second date.”
“First date.”
His mouth tugs to one side. “So, you’re agreeing to go out with me?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. If it comes down to you removing your shirt to encourage Tabitha to agree to the Christmas show, I’ll go on a date with you.”
The next evening, Landon, Kiera, and I head to the gym, where the PTA meeting is being held. The three of us stuck around after the bell rung, prepping for tomorrow.
Tabitha is talking to a fellow PTA mother when we enter the gym. She’s looking as elegant as always: blonde hair pulled back in a sleek bun, a camel-colored pencil skirt skimming her slim body, her white blouse no doubt from a high-end designer.
I, on the other hand, look as far from elegant as you can get. My pale-pink knit top has a red paint splotch on it from the Thanksgiving art project we were working on in class today. One of my students accidentally sent his paintbrush sailing across the room, and it hit my boob.
And no amount of dabbing it with a wet paper towel would remove it.
Quite the contrary.
The moment Tabitha spots us walking toward her, her gaze drops to the stain. Her mouth tilts to the side.
Landon’s smirk is wickedly sexy; Tabitha’s just spells trouble.
“It’s nice to see you again, Chloe.” Her tone implies the opposite. “What do we owe the pleasure of your company? You don’t usually attend our humble meetings.” Her gaze cuts to Landon and travels lazily down his body.
Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t necessary.
I smile sweetly at her while dreaming about chocolate. Rich, creamy Lindt chocolate. The kind that leaves you groaning with pleasure. That does the trick. “I volunteer at a residence for the elderly, and their Christmas party is at risk of being canceled.” All right, that part isn’t entirely true, but close enough. “The school that usually performs had to back out. I thought it would be a positive experience for my kindergarteners to perform for the residents. Principal Woodnut asked me to let you know about it.” So that you don’t pull any strings to prevent it from happening, even though you, as the president of the PTA, shouldn’t have any say in the matter.
The sweet smile returns to my face, contorting my cheeks to the point that they’re aching.
“Where is it?”
I tell her the address.
“Isn’t that awfully far from here?” She makes it sound like we’re talking about the North Pole.
“I can arrange for a school bus to transport the kids to and from the place.”
She eyes me, lips puckered as if she’d licked an unripe grapefruit.
My stomach starts to free-fall, a parachuter minus the gear.
“I’m not sure it would be the best use of our resources,” she says.
Landon steps forward. “Perhaps you should put it to a vote and see what the other parents here think.”
“I’m confident I can speak on behalf of the PTA members. Unlike you, Mr.—”
“Landon Reed.” He holds out his hand to her. “I’m the kindergarten substitute teacher while Zoe Bryant is on maternity leave.”
She shakes his hand without missing a beat. “Unlike you, Mr. Reed, my children have attended this school for the past few years. And during that time, I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know most of the parents. I know their wishes enough to be able to speak for them.”
Kiera shoots Landon a look that Tabitha misses, one eye raised in an I-told-you-so gesture.
He winks at me, and without a word, raises his hands to his collar and unbuttons it. Tabitha doesn’t say anything. She just watches him, a deer mesmerized by the oncoming truck lights.
She’s so busy taking in the show, she misses the comical eyebrow dance Kiera levels my way. I have to squish my lips together to keep from laughing out loud.
Landon keeps unfastening his shirt, revealing his abs. And hot damn, they’re a work of art.
I steal a quick glance at Tabitha. If her expression is anything to go by, she agrees with me one hundred percent. Her gaze is glued to the PG-rated strip show playing out in front of us.
“Sorry, weren’t we discussing the Christmas show?” Landon casually says, as if it’s normal for him to strip in front of a bunch of gawking women.
A few moms run their tongues along their lower lips. I wouldn’t be surprised if they rush to sign up for parent-teacher conferences once they find out he’s a teacher here—even if he isn’t teaching their kid.
“Like I already told Chloe, I’ll have to put it to a vote.” Tabitha’s gaze remains locked on his well-honed abs.
“Works for me.”
Tabitha drags her eyes away from Landon and excuses herself to start the meeting.
Grinning, he leans in close to me, his warm breath brushing against my cheek. “Looks like you owe me a date.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.” It’s the least I can do, especially if th
e vote goes in favor of the Christmas show.
Landon re-buttons his shirt, and we take our seats in the front row.
Tabitha walks up the stage steps and turns on the mike. “Hello, everyone,” she says in her take-charge voice, and everyone sits. “Thank you for coming tonight. We’ve got a busy agenda for this evening since we have to talk about a few fundraisers still planned for the school year. But first, I’d like to welcome Dalhousie Elementary’s newest teacher, Landon Reed.”
She points to where we’re sitting. Excited murmurs spread through the gym.
“Landon is covering for Mrs. Bryant’s kindergarten class while she is on maternity leave. First on our agenda is the Christmas show. Zoe is the one who usually organizes the event, but now that she’s away, we don’t have anyone with a theatrical background to do it. But Miss Reinhart has asked us to allow the kids to entertain the residents at Golden Sunshine Retirement Village during their Christmas party.
“Since we don’t have Zoe’s skills to help us with this, I thought we should put the idea to a vote first. Hands up if you believe we should risk the school’s reputation within the community and organize a Christmas show for the retirement home.”
Landon shoots up out of his seat. “That’s not entirely true about not having anyone with a theatrical background to help Chloe. I happen to know someone who might be willing to help.”
“You do?” I ask him, keeping my voice low so Tabitha doesn’t hear me.
He nods but doesn’t elaborate.
“Might?” That comes from Tabitha.
“I’d have to check with her first. But I’m sure she would be delighted to help. She loves kids.”
Tabitha doesn’t look too sold on his comment, but she gives him a slight nod of acquiescence. “All right. Raise your hand if you think Miss Reinhart should organize the Christmas show.”
I look over my shoulder to see how the vote goes. Tabitha’s groupies exchange a glance as if trying to figure out how she wants them to vote. Over two-thirds of the remaining teachers and parents raise their hands.
“Well, it looks like the show will go on,” Tabitha declares with as much enthusiasm as a kid faced with liver and onions for dinner.
I lean toward Landon and whisper, “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” he replies, voice low and rough, the sound igniting mini fireworks between my legs. Damn, the man’s dangerous. “Are you free after this for our second date?”
“First date.”
He laughs under his breath. “All right, first date, if believing that helps you sleep better at night.”
“First date…and only date,” I remind him, hoping I don’t regret agreeing to it. In the world I left behind, when a man performed a favor, it always came at a cost.
A steep cost.
Like in The Little Mermaid, when Ariel gave up her voice to be with the prince. My grandfather was no different from Ursula, who demanded Ariel’s voice in payment. I mean, sure, he didn’t turn anyone into seaweed, but I wouldn’t be surprised if someone actually did go swimming with the fishes and never resurfaced after asking for a favor and failing to pay the price.
Granted, all Landon is expecting is a date. But I hope I’m not making a mistake by letting a man help me, something I haven’t done since escaping my family.
“Do you like country music?” Landon asks as he and I walk to our cars in the parking lot. The PTA meeting finished a few minutes ago.
“I can’t say it’s something I listen to regularly, but I don’t mind it.”
He grins at me with that cocky smile of his. “I’m driving. I’ll drop you off at your car afterward.”
“I can drive.” I really don’t mind.
He throws me a caveman look that says, “Sorry, not happening.”
It’s clear he’s a man who’s used to being in control, so I let him have his way. On this. It doesn’t matter who drives—and it’s not like he’s a stranger I’ve just met.
Well, mostly he’s not a stranger I’ve just met.
Thirty minutes later, we’re climbing out of his jeep in front of what looks like a giant red barn in a parking lot. Lively country music pours from inside. A neon sign on top proclaims the building is Brodie’s Barbecue & Bar.
“This isn’t what I was expecting.” But I’m all for an adventure…as long as the adventure gets me to bed at a decent time. It is a school night.
“I figure you’re the kind of woman who appreciates a great meal and a good time. And you can’t do much better than this place.”
“I’m not exactly dressed for this.” Not that the red splotch of paint on my top spells “dressed for this” in most dating situations…unless you’re going to a paintball center.
“You look great. No one’s going to judge your clothing. But if you want to go somewhere else…”
“No, this is fine.”
We enter the building. It’s everything I imagined it would be. Almost.
Like with most restaurants, it has a lounge to one side. It’s the dance floor in the middle of the restaurant that’s unusual. Several people are partner dancing, including an elderly couple and a few kids who are bouncing around to the upbeat song.
“Hi, y’all,” a woman in a black dress and cowboy boots says. Her dark hair is pulled up in a perky ponytail. “How many are in your party?”
“It’s just the two of us,” Landon tells her.
She glances at her device and grabs some menus from beneath the podium. “Follow me. How are y’all doing tonight?”
We tell her we’re doing fine, and she seats us at a table not far from the dance floor.
“Will Whiskey be okay with you gone so long?” I ask Landon.
“He’ll be fine. A friend of mine has been checking on him.”
The waitress comes to the table soon after that, and Landon and I both order burgers and fries.
The song changes, and there’s a stampede of people rushing to the floor. They move into position and start line-dancing along with the music.
Landon stands and offers me his hand. “Let’s dance.”
“I don’t know how to do that.” I gesture to the individuals, their movements perfectly synchronized.
“I’ll show you.”
I hesitantly take his hand and let him drag me to an empty spot on the floor. It’s obvious this isn’t Landon’s first time doing the dance. He moves to the music as if he were born doing the line dance.
Me? Not so much.
I’ve never been super coordinated. If there’s one word to describe me when it comes to sports and things like line-dancing, it would be awkward. Clumsy.
I bump into the man next to me because he went right and I went left. “Oof. Sorry.”
He dips the rim of his cowboy hat at me and grins. “Not a problem, miss.”
I move in the opposite direction and crash into Landon. He chuckles.
“Sorry,” I tell him.
It takes me another few minutes to finally figure out the moves.
Too bad that’s as the song ends.
Another one starts, and Landon takes my hand. He puts his other hand on my upper back and leads me through the upbeat song as best as he can, given my lack of coordination.
By the end of the dance, I’m laughing so hard at how bad I am at this, my cheeks ache. I can’t remember the last time I’ve smiled this much.
“Wow, you’re really good at this,” I say, still giggling.
The music switches to a slow song. I expect Landon to release my hand and for us to return to our table. Instead, he pulls me closer, and his free hand slides south, along my spine. More couples join us on the dance floor, and he and I sway to the music. His gaze drops to my lips, and for a moment, I’m positive he’s going to kiss me.
A longing stirs deep inside me, sweet and spicy and full of promise. I can’t remember the last time someone kissed me.
I drag my gaze from his mouth and focus on the wall on the opposite side of the room. Anything to distract me
from his lips, his eyes.
His thumb brushes against the curve of my back, setting off a series of delicious tremors along my skin. My gaze flicks to his.
He leans in, and I have no idea what to do. Despite what he claimed, this isn’t a date.
My breath stalls in my chest, and I deliberated my options.
“Our burgers are here,” he says, completely throwing me for a loop. That wasn’t what I was expecting.
The air in my lungs escapes in a smooth whoosh.
“Oh, good,” I lamely say. “I’m super hungry.” Without waiting for him, I hasten to our table.
9
Landon
“How’s teaching kindergarten going so far?” Adam asks with a snicker, his voice coming through the speaker on my phone.
I dropped Chloe off at her vehicle after our date less than two hours ago, and then inconspicuously followed her home to make sure she got there okay.
Now, I’m sitting on my couch, watching a hockey game on TV while Adam is parked in his SUV outside of her apartment building, keeping an eye on the place.
It’s not an ideal situation since we have no control over who enters and exits the building.
And that thought churns sourly in my gut.
It’s another reason why Liam wants me to be Chloe’s boyfriend and push the agenda of spending nights together. Clearly, it’s been a while since he was single and dating.
Given that Chloe and I didn’t kiss after our first date, I’m not sure how likely his plan will come to pass. The closest I got to a kiss was the one I planted on her cheek.
That was my choice—to leave her wanting more.
Things would be a lot easier if we could just tell her the truth, but I have no idea how to do that without revealing our true identities.
And that’s a bridge we don’t want to cross yet.
We want to draw Nikolai out, and this is the best way.
“Let’s just say, I owe my kindergarten teacher a huge box of chocolates for putting up with me at that age,” I say to Adam.
The laughter of my five teammates comes through the phone.
Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2) Page 6