Burn for You (Flirting with Forever Book 3)

by Amanda Bailey

  I pull up to my parents’ two-story home, complete with a neatly-mowed yard and a freshly-painted red door, and sigh. I just need to get through today and everything will be okay. Everything will be fine. Just. Fine.

  Only it’s not. The minute I walk through the door, my parents are all over me.

  “They must be making the selection soon. When I spoke to your department chair at the school fundraiser last year, he had some very complimentary things to say about you.” Dad smiles and offers me a plate of fresh fruit. I accept it to give me something to do, all while biting my tongue.

  “Piper, what else do you have planned? You’ve really got to make a last-minute push.” Mom winks at me.

  I take a few calming breaths. “Mom, could we just drop it?” I wedge a hunk of watermelon into my mouth, and I don’t even enjoy it, which pisses me off because it’s my favorite.

  Her gaze swings from me to my dad. “Should we invite him to dinner?”

  Dad wipes his mouth with his napkin before setting it down next to his plate and focusing all of his attention on me.

  He’s about to say something when I cut him off. “I just wish you’d leave my successes or failures to me. I’ll either get the position or not. I don’t need you speaking to my boss on my behalf. I don’t want Jake to think I expect him to pick me.”

  I can’t believe my parents don’t understand how embarrassing it would be for me to have my mommy and daddy talking to my boss. I mean, what the hell? Don’t they realize that makes me look infantile? Like I’m not capable of earning the position on my own?

  “It won’t help.” I shake my head, my expression turning grim. If they can’t see this, I don’t know what I’m going to do. And from the surprised looks on their faces, they definitely don’t get it. “It would make me look unprofessional. I’m twenty-six years old. I’m not a child. I need for you to stop interfering.” I swallow and eye both of them carefully. “Please. For me.”

  Dad sips at his coffee, his brow furrowing. “We’re just trying to help.”

  “You’re helping me look like I’m not capable. You’re trying to manipulate Jake into giving me the position by discussing it with him.” I blow out a quick breath. “I want to either earn it—or not—because of me, because of who I am and what I can do. Not because of my family connections.”

  Dad grumbles. “I don’t see how it can hurt.” He sips his coffee, his keen eyes never leaving mine over his coffee cup.

  “That’s obvious.” I push back from my table, my chair loudly scraping over the tiled floor. I set my napkin on the table. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to get into an argument with you, and I can’t see this going any other way right now.”

  Mom’s dismay that I’m leaving is clear. “But, we—”

  “No, Mom. Seriously. No buts.” I lift my hands, palms out. “I can’t do this right now.”

  Chapter 16

  Damon

  “Hi, Mom.” As I walk into the kitchen of my family home, I pull my mother in for a one-armed hug, dropping a kiss to the top of her head before fixing my gaze on my sister. “Hey, Esme.”

  She bends down in front of the oven to take a peek inside before righting herself and shooting me a quick smile. “I hope you’re hungry. I made quiche.”

  Mom’s arm curls around my back, hugging me tightly. “How’s my boy?”

  I chuckle. “Doing fine, Mom. How’s everything been going here?”

  “Good. Esme and Elena keep me company, and we stay busy around here. Arabella should be here soon.” She leans into me. “I feel like we hardly see you anymore.”

  “I’m literally a stone’s throw away. You can come see me anytime I’m home.” I sigh. “Work is just keeping me pretty busy right now.”

  Esme looks up. “Are you working a lot of hours at the gym?”

  I nod. “Yeah. That, too. I’m picking up as much as I can. Remind me before I leave to have a look at any bills that still need to be paid this month. I’ll take care of them.”

  Mom gives me another squeeze before she goes to the cupboard to pull down plates. Over her shoulder, she asks, “That reminds me, when do they decide who gets to be the new department chair?”

  I rub my hand over my stubble-coated jaw, an image of Piper’s shocked face as I pulled out of the parking lot last night slamming into me. I’m pretty sure I’d pissed her off good this time. “Soon. I have a good chance at it.”

  As Mom sets the plates out on the table, she asks cautiously, “How much extra did you say the pay is per month?”

  “It’s a couple hundred, I think. I’ll find out soon enough.”

  From where she’s cutting the quiche into triangles, Esme murmurs, “Every last bit helps.” She carries the delicious-smelling food over to the table and sets it on a trivet, laying a serving spatula next to it and sliding into her seat. I glance at the quiche, the basket of muffins, and a trayful of grapes and berries, and my stomach rumbles in appreciation.

  Mom comes to the table with a pitcher of ice water and fills the glasses already set out before she sits down. She trains her eyes on me. “You know, Elena was asking about whether she should bother looking at colleges to apply to, or if we’d be better off if she came to work with me at the flower shop. I wasn’t sure what to tell her.”

  “She asked me if I knew if there was another receptionist position available where Arabella works, too.” Esme clenches her teeth together. “I don’t think Elena would do well sitting at a desk in a doctor’s office with the job she wants staring her in the face all day.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I could get her a waitressing position, but she really needs to be eighteen so she can serve alcohol.” She frowns. “Not that I think she’d like doing what I do, either.”

  I wince. I’ve known this was coming for a while. I was working to put myself through college when Dad passed away. I knew when it happened that the family was now my responsibility. I’d have to step up, be the caretaker, so I’ve done what I could in the last ten years to support us. Dad was a mechanic, and we discovered when he died that our family didn’t have much in the way of savings. Mom hadn’t worked since before I was born because she’d had four children to take care of.

  So, there we were, suddenly in a position where we’d needed income in a bad way. Mom started working in the flower shop down on the main street in town, and she’s been there for ten years now. I think she’s happy, but it doesn’t pay much more than the mortgage on the house. Once Arabella was old enough, she’d started working as a receptionist at a doctor’s office and she still holds that position today. I don’t know that she loves it, but it’s a job, and she seems content enough. Esme has waited tables at a popular local restaurant since she got out of high school. She keeps talking about maybe wanting to do something different, like catering, but she’s kind of a free spirit. She does make a mean quiche, though.

  Then there’s Elena. She wants to be a nurse, or maybe even a doctor, she says, and I know that means a lot of years of schooling. I don’t have the heart to tell her we don’t really have the money for it. I’ll figure it out. I always have.

  At the same time, she’s obviously smart. She knows that money could be a problem, and so she keeps hesitating. Arabella told me last week that she’d tried to talk to Elena about colleges, but Elena brushed her off.

  A low growl comes from my throat as I work my jaw back and forth. “I’ll talk to her. She’s going to college. Period.” I yank my chair out and sit.

  With a bang of the door, the oldest of my sisters comes in like a hurricane, dropping her bag and rushing to each of us with a hug. “How is everyone today?”

  Mom gives Arabella a huge smooch on the cheek when she bends down to give her a hug. “We’re good, Bella. How’s this new young man you’re seeing?”

  “Jared is good. He’s hiking today with some of his college buddies or I’d have brought him.” She sits at her place at the table. “So, what were you talking about when I came in?” She peeks out of the corner of her eye at m
e where I’m sitting at the head of the table. “Damon, you sounded a little … gruff.”

  “Mom and Esme were telling me that Elena is staging a little rebellion about going to college.”

  Arabella rolls her eyes. “Yeah, she was saying maybe she’d take a gap year and just work for a while.”

  We fall silent as Elena comes down the back stairs, a blur of jean-clad long legs and a black-and-red NHS sweatshirt.

  Mom glances over as Elena sits down and immediately snatches a muffin from the platter and begins eating it. “Elena Madero, where are your manners, honey?”

  Through a mouthful of crumbs, she grins at us. “Sorry. I’m starving.”

  Mom sighs and motions to us that we should dig in.

  Several minutes pass while we tuck into our food. Esme’s soft voice is the first to interrupt the silence. “Elena, how was the dance last night? Did you have fun?”

  Elena sucks her lips into her mouth, stealing a look at me before she addresses Esme. “It was good. I mostly just hung out with Marcy, listened to the music, and ate heart-shaped cookies.”

  Arabella winks at Elena. “I saw the photos you posted on social media. Your dress was fabulous—all silvery shimmer. Loved it.”

  There’s silence for another few seconds as my sisters’ gazes flick around the table, connecting with each other in what has always been scarily accurate nonverbal communication. Anytime my sisters get all quiet like this, I know something is up. Patiently, I wait for whatever they are about to lay on me. Based on the way they are avoiding my stare, it definitely has something to do with me.

  “Damon, I saw some photos of you, too. You looked good in your suit. Who was that you were dancing with?” Esme asks. Her voice is soothing, as if to placate me, but her expression is questioning and curious, so it’s obvious she’s interested in my answer.

  Ever so slowly, I turn my head, letting my gaze fix on my youngest sister. “Elena. What did you do?” The muscles of my cheek twitch. I’m not really mad, but damn. I hadn’t realized anyone was taking photos.

  Esme holds her phone out, one brow raised. “Have a look for yourself, big brother.”

  I take it from her and look at the image on the screen.

  Piper in my arms.

  Piper smiling up at me.

  Piper in her sexy-as-hell red dress.

  Piper and her alluring bare neck.

  I gaze longingly at the woman in the photo, wanting to drop an open-mouthed kiss on her soft skin. She’s so damn tempting. I press my lips together. But I’m probably on her shit list right now because of the field trip.

  Mom snatches the phone from me and looks at the screen. Her lips purse while she studies the two of us together in the photo. “Piper Mathison, right? She always was a pretty girl. Smart, too. I know her mama. Her parents think the world of her.”

  “Her parents are ridiculously hard on her.” I watch Mom’s mouth drop open before I look down at my plate and concentrate on my food, putting a forkful of quiche into my mouth and chewing, unable to enjoy it at all. Thinking about the way I’d heard Piper’s parents treat her sours my mood.

  The silence at our usually chattery table unnerves me. Slowly, I glance up and see all four pairs of female eyes on me. “What?”

  Elena cracks first, wrinkling her nose. “I knew you liked her.”

  Like her? She’s the most infuriating woman on the planet, but I guess she’s okay. “Well, I’m only telling the truth about her parents. I overheard them on a phone call with her last week. It wasn’t pretty. It was also—and Elena, you aren’t to breathe a word of this at school—very awkward because it was obvious that they are pressuring her in a big way.”

  Arabella’s brow creases. “What do you mean?”

  I shake my head, giving her a rueful grin. “We’re up for the same position. It was about that.”

  “Nooo.” Esme sucks in air through her teeth.

  Mom tilts her head to the side. “Well, that’s problematic, isn’t it?”

  “From a coworker standpoint, it’s definitely an issue.”

  Elena, ignoring me and seemingly oblivious to the position we’re in, takes another bite of her muffin and around the mouthful says, “You should totally date Ms. Mathison.”

  I groan. “One, you shouldn’t be talking about her. She’s your teacher. And two, not likely. We … argue. A lot.” No way am I telling them that I’m half-sure if Piper and I ever really got into it, we’d probably end up attacking each other with our lips.

  Almost as if she’s reading my mind, Arabella snickers and hides her mouth from Elena with her hand and mouths at me, “Is that what it is? Or is it foreplay?”

  Another groan bursts from me. “Nope. Bella, don’t go there.”

  “What?” Elena looks between us, wondering what she’s missed.

  “I have someone else I’m interested in, and Piper’s not happy with me right now anyway.”

  Elena’s head pops up from where she’d been nose down in her muffin. “Wait, did something bad happen after I shut—” Her eyes meet mine and she freezes. “I mean when you got locked out?”

  “Tell me you didn’t do that.”

  Esme’s, Arabella’s, and Mom’s gazes bounce back and forth between me and Elena like a ball in a tennis match. Elena’s face flushes. “I-I was just trying to help.”

  “You locked us outside in thirty-degree weather and no one could hear us because the entire student body was sliding to the right and kicking! What the hell, Elena?”

  “Was anyone hurt?” Mom eyes me carefully from the other side of the table.

  I growl, “No, not if you don’t count my dress shoes, which are ruined. I ended up carrying Piper all the way around the damn building in the snow, messed up my suit pants, and nearly froze my feet off doing it.”

  Esme, who is our hopeless romantic, sighs. “I’m just imagining how this all went down in my head. How sweet you are, Damon.”

  “Well, I’m afraid she doesn’t think I’m sweet anymore because I’ve had to do things to get that department chair position that she’s not going to appreciate.”

  Mom shakes her head, closing her eyes. “Oh, Damon.”

  Bella squints at me. “Wait a sec. Did you say you were interested in someone else? Tell me you met someone on Tryst!”

  I think at this point, I’ve just become accustomed to my sisters being chin deep in my business. It doesn’t seem like that’s something that will ever change. “Yes. I’ve met someone. But we’re trying to figure out how to actually meet. If that makes sense.”

  To be honest, nothing makes sense today. Nothing at all. I can’t stop thinking about the way Piper felt in my arms when we danced last night or when I carried her. The smile that lit up her face as I teased her on the way to the parking lot was easily the best part of my night. I seriously need to figure out this whole thing with Sherlock4Love, or I’ll find myself in over my damn head with both of them.

  A while later, I kick back on Mom’s couch to digest my meal and watch a fight on TV. My phone vibrates on my chest. I swear, I’m conditioned to grab it and go right to Tryst, hoping for a message from Sherlock4Love. It’s happened three times today, only for me to be disappointed to find text messages from my friends instead. This time, though, it’s her.

  Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’m willing to take the chance.

  I jerk to an upright position, not quite trusting what my eyes just read. But there it is, plain as day. She’s willing. She wants to meet me. With my palms sweating, I quickly tap out a response to her.

  Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: When? Where? I’m more ready than you know. Don’t be surprised if I haul off and kiss you the minute I set eyes on you.

  Fuck, I hope that wasn’t too eager.

  Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Same. That escalated quickly, didn’t it?

  Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: It just means we are ready to bite the bullet and do this.

  Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: What if we meet and something’s not right?
/>   Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Like we don’t get along? Because we already get along just fine.

  Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Maybe. But … what if there’s no chemistry?

  Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: There’s going to be chemistry. I have no doubt there will be fucking fireworks.

  Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Saturday? 7p.m.? You pick the place.

  Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Giarelli’s?

  And just like that, I have a real date in just one week with the elusive Sherlock4Love.

  Chapter 17

  Piper

  I’ve been living in a rapidly fluctuating state since I made the date with Prof.M. for Saturday night. One minute, I’m full of crazy anxiety and the next, absolute excitement. I have an actual real, live date with a real, live man. He’s about to become way more than a fictional character to me, and nervous butterflies flutter around in my stomach every time I think about it.

  With every day that creeps closer toward Saturday, my emotions intensify.

  Of course, it doesn’t help that while I’m looking forward to this weekend, and finding out who the man is that I’ve been fantasizing about, I’ve also got to get through this week—and that includes dealing with Damon.

  I shift in my desk chair as I pull together some of the final details for the field trip. Hadleigh, Sawyer, and I have worked out a list of kids for each bus, permission slips are in and accounted for, money for a meal on the road has been collected. I’ve got everything as organized as I can get it.

  Once I convinced Hadleigh to include me and Jake, I’d insisted on taking over some of this stuff for her. Thank goodness we are friends and she understands I need to show Jake that I’m giving it my all. I’m a team player, but I can lead, too.

  So far, I haven’t seen whatever Damon was referring to with “our” field trip. There’s no evidence to imply he’s going with us. I haven’t dared ask Jake; I don’t want to come off seeming petty by not wanting him to come.