Connection (Temptation Series Standalones Book 2)

by K. M. Golland

  “Are you calling me a slob?”

  “Yes.”

  I glance at the coffee granules she spilled on the bench and the teaspoon she has no plans to put into the dishwasher.

  My eyebrow hitches.

  “What?” She looks down at her mess.

  “And I’m the slob?”

  “You’re a fashion slob. I’m a domestic slob. There’s a difference.”

  “There’s no such thing as a fashion slob.”

  Carly sighs. “How many times were you dropped as a child?” She tosses the teaspoon in the sink, swipes the coffee onto the floor with her hand, and nudges me toward my room. “Come on. Let me unleash your inner erotic sex slave.”

  “What?” I stumble and latch onto the doorframe for dear life. “No! Wait! I want to be a hillbilly.”

  Fidgeting with the tight-as-fuck leather pencil skirt stuck to my legs, I shuffle in heels toward the school office building. “I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I feel ridiculous.”

  “You look insane! I’m talking librarian fantasy.”

  “What’s a librarian fantasy?”

  She winks, her smile increasing.

  “Ladies!”

  The sound of Will’s voice behind me sets every nerve ending in my body into a state of panic, and I almost don’t turn around.

  “Good morning, William,” Carly drawls. “Big day ahead?”

  His eyes scale my body like Spider-Man would a wall before he chokes out, “Yes. Very big.”

  “Excellent!” She scurries off, and for a second I think she’s being chased by a T-Rex.

  “Where is she go—”

  “You look different,” Will says, eyeing my skirt.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  My fingers grip my hip, my voice wavering. “I… I always look like this.”

  He raises his hands. “I don’t mean it in a bad way, Elizabeth. I just mean you look different. Still stunning, of course. Just”—he tilts his head—“different.” He bends and picks up his toolbox. “After you.”

  Will gestures toward the office building, his arm outstretched, muscles bulging underneath the sleeve of his fluorescent-orange polo shirt. His collar is up, which I’ve always found arrogant, but for some reason on Will, it’s much more endearing.

  “Thank you,” I say, dipping my head to his khaki shorts and large tool belt. Did he just say I’m stunning?

  My cheeks heat a little, so I make my way to the office and am nearly cleaned up by Sally when she wrenches the heavy glass entrance door open.

  “Sorry. Oh! Hey, Lib.” She gives me a quick onceover. “You look… different.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Sally blinks at Will while his giant python arm holds open the door for us. She doesn’t speak at first, but then garbled words eventually leave her mouth.

  “It’s you!” She points at him. “Delicious. Caveman. How? I’m confused.”

  “You’re confused?” he prompts, chuckling.

  I put her out of her misery, although she doesn’t seem miserable at all, her eyes twinkling like fairy lights.

  “He’s the plumber contracted to fix the pipes, Sal.”

  “You fix pipes?”

  He smiles. “I do.”

  “I have pipes,” she blurts.

  Will nods and smirks at me, then says to Sal, “In or out?”

  Her eyes widen and she stutters, as if she doesn’t know how to answer. “B-Both?”

  “Both?”

  “Well, yeah.” She lets out an awkward laugh. “In and out.”

  I’m confused, and by the looks of Will’s furrowed forehead, he is too.

  “How can you be going in and out?”

  Sally’s face flushes pink. “Ohhh.” She shakes her head and blurts, “I thought we were talking about sex.” Morphing from a shade of pink to fire-engine red, she also blurts, “Out. I’m going out. Thank you. Goodbye.”

  She hurries toward her car, and I bite my lip to refrain from laughing.

  “School teachers are not like they were when I was young,” Will says.

  “Yeah?” I giggle as we enter the reception area, unable to hold it in any longer. “How so?”

  “They didn’t talk about sex.” He lowers his voice, his warm breath caressing my ear. “And they certainly weren’t as hot as you are.”

  My heel gives way and I fall sideways, landing in his arms.

  “Easy there, sweetheart.”

  Pythons or not, his arms are warm and strong, safe and lifesaving, because I most certainly would’ve fallen flat on my face had he not caught me. Damn heels!

  “Th-Thank you.” My eyes meet his stormy grey ones before he helps me upright.

  “No probs.”

  “Right.” Smoothing down Carly’s ridiculous skirt, I make eye contact again for the shortest of seconds, his eyes now brighter, more amused. “I’ll see you around.”

  “You will.”

  I nod. “I will.”

  “No.” He pats his chest. “I Will.”

  “Huh?”

  Carly cracks up laughing from behind the reception counter.

  I look between the two of them. “I don’t get it.”

  “Me Tarzan, you Jane,” she says.

  Will gives her the thumbs-up.

  Shaking my head at them as I push through the door that leads to my classroom, I cringe as Oliver falls into step beside me.

  “See?” he says, gesturing to Carly and Will. “Same cloth.”

  Despite adjusting my skirt and being incredibly uncomfortable and frustrated for a good part of the morning, every time I catch my reflection in the window, I decide I kinda like what I see. Yeah, I look “different,” but it’s a good different, an empowering different, and something I might wear again sometime.

  Just not at school.

  And definitely not on a sport day.

  “Rightyo, Grade 2s and 3s,” Oliver announces, “please put the dodgeballs back into the bags and line up with your partner. The bell is about to ring for lunch.”

  I hold out the large net bag as child after child pops a rubber ball inside.

  Oliver does the same then tosses both bags over his shoulders. “You’ll have to push the trolley,” he says, nodding to the metal shelving cart stacked with cones and hula-hoops.

  He already set up the equipment prior to our sport lesson starting, so I hadn’t carried a thing.

  “Um…” I glance down at my heels, unsure as to how this is going to happen. “Surrre.”

  Oliver glances at them too. “Why on earth would you wear those to school?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “They’re hardly practical, Lib.”

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  He huffs. “Not your brightest idea.”

  Oliver walks off, directing the kids back to the classroom, so I clasp the handles of the cart, push forward, and give it a nudge with my hip to begin momentum. It clangs and rolls along the bumpy asphalt, and I stumble behind, trying to keep it straight while also trying to keep up with Oliver, who has conveniently powered ahead.

  “Don’t wait for me,” I mumble.

  The wheel of the cart hits a rock, and both the cart and I come to an abrupt halt, nearly toppling over. “Shit!”

  “What’s wrong?” Oliver calls out.

  He doesn’t make a move to double-back and help me, so I plaster on a faux smile and shout, “Nothing!” through gritted teeth while trying to right the cart again.

  “Just take your stupid heels off.”

  “I would if I could, you idiot,” I hiss under my breath.

  A flash of orange hits my peripheral vision, and I look up, spotting Will jogging toward me.

  “Need a hand?”

  “No,” I lie. “I’m good. Just a hit a rock.”

  Ignoring me, he takes possession of the cart and repositions it. “Now you’re good.”

  I snatch the cart back, embarrassed. “I said I was fine.
”

  “Actually, you said you were good.”

  “Whatever.”

  Kicking off my heels, I pick them up, toss them into the cart, and give it a mighty shove, my bare foot landing on a stone after my first step.

  “Ffff—” I limp and close my eyes, willing the godawful sting to subside. “Damn it!”

  Before I’m able to inspect the damage, I’m hauled into the air and slung over Will’s shoulder, the cart once again clanging and banging as he walks.

  “Will! What are you—?”

  “Where to?” he asks as if I’m not draped over him like a fur shawl.

  “Nowhere! Are you crazy? Put me down!”

  “I can’t stand to watch you hurt yourself any longer. Just tell me where you need to go, and I’ll get you there.”

  The lunchtime bell blasts through the speakers in the yard, and I panic for fear of someone seeing us. “Please put me down. I can walk.” I try to straighten my body, which is when I see Brooke, plastered to her classroom window like a starfish, her Grade 1 students gathered around her and pointing at us as they giggle. “Pleeease,” I beg. “This isn’t professional.”

  “You hurting yourself left, right, and fucking centre isn’t professional either.”

  “Okay, okay. I agree. Fine, you can help me with the cart.” I slap his back. “Yes. You push the stupid cart, and I’ll walk in the stupid heels.”

  He stops and places me on my feet again. “That I can do.”

  I quickly wiggle the hem of my skirt down my legs and say, “Thank you.” Then, utterly embarrassed, I place my palm to my forehead and sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just an idiot. I’ve no idea why I agreed to wear these damn things.”

  Children spill out of their classrooms and into the yard like bees leaving a hive.

  “You don’t happen to have a spare pair of shoes, do you, like you did the T-shirt? Size 6? Maybe they’re tap shoes that say Tap That?”

  Will laughs. “No, but there’s an idea.”

  “This is all Carly’s fault, you know.” I lift my heels out of the cart and drop them at my feet. “Apparently, I looked like a hillbilly this morning, so she gave me a makeover.”

  He rubs his chin with his thumb and finger, his eyes sweeping me from head to toe. And for the first time, I don’t feel the need to cover myself with my arms.

  “While I like Carly’s handiwork, if you want to look like a hillbilly, you should look like a hillbilly.”

  “I don’t want to look like a hillbilly,” I grouch.

  “My point is you should look the way you want to look.” He holds out his elbow so I can balance while putting my heels back on.

  “Thanks.” I steady myself. “In the future, I will. But that’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Carly is holding her car keys as ransom; otherwise, I’d go home right now and grab a different pair of shoes.”

  I walk in the direction of the equipment room, Will pushing the cart beside me.

  “You don’t have a car?”

  “No, I do. Carls and I live together, so it makes sense if we ride-share during the week. She drove today.”

  “So why’s she holdin’ the keys as ransom?”

  “Because she wants me to suffer. She’s a villain.”

  He chuckles. “I’ll take you home if you want.”

  I stop at the equipment room and unlock the door. “Uh…”

  “I’m not going to kidnap you,” he says, a devious grin creeping onto his face.

  I squeak out a laugh. “I know that. It’s just I don’t want to put you out.”

  He winks. “I like putting out.”

  I keep my face stoic.

  “Do you want to change your shoes or not?” Will pushes the cart into the corner of the room.

  “I do. It would make my life much easier.”

  “Then I’ll take you. End of story. Does now suit?”

  “Actually, now is perfect. The students are at lunch for an hour.”

  “Then it’s a date.”

  “It is not a date.”

  He smiles, all teeth, then holds the door open for me as we exit. “Your chariot awaits.”

  I roll my eyes but stifle a giggle; I’ve always wanted to ride in a chariot.

  Will’s truck is indeed no chariot. Instead, it’s a white Toyota Hilux utility that smokes more than a dragon and rattles louder than a charity tin.

  “Just on your left,” I say, pointing at our house through the windscreen. “Number 12.”

  He pulls to a stop outside, and I open the car door, planning to rush in and out, when he opens his door too.

  “I’ll only be a second,” I tell him.

  He adjusts himself. “I need to take a piss.”

  Staring a bit too long at his hand cupped over his groin, I blink and scrunch my nose at him. “Right. Sure. Follow me.”

  He does, his body a looming shadow as I unlock the front door and push it open.

  Distracted by his close proximity, I forget Sasha’s tendency to try to escape the house, and she bounds out, nearly knocking me over.

  “Oh no! Quick! Catch her!”

  Will darts to the side and catches her midleap.

  “Who do we have here?” he asks, appearing to delight in her enthusiastic, laving tongue.

  “This is the naughtiest Golden Retriever to ever live.” I grab her head and massage her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs. “Her name is Sasha, and she’s an adorable menace.”

  “My kind of menace.” He hoists her higher.

  “Please, come in.”

  Will steps into our entryway hall, and I close the door behind him.

  “You can put her down now.”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  I laugh, thinking he’s kidding, but the way he has her comfortably reclined in his arms soon tells me he’s not.

  “I like animals,” he says, as if it’s the only justification he needs.

  “You’re not taking our dog into the toilet with you.”

  “Don’t need to go anymore.”

  My eyes narrow. “You didn’t need to go in the first place, did you?”

  He goes to step around me and into our lounge room, when I fling my arm out and block him.

  “Oh no you don’t.” I point to his muddy boots. “Not in those filthy things.”

  We both look down, and he slides them off with his feet while grinning and jiggling Sasha as if she’s a baby.

  I sigh. “Fine! Just don’t touch anything. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Letting him pass, I then make my way to my bedroom, hopping as I lever one heel off after the other. The relief is instant, and my toes fan out over the carpet. Never again will I wear those murderous weapons to school.

  I place them in their allocated space on the floor of my walk-in robe then unzip my skirt and shimmy it down my legs. Grabbing the closest pair of jeans, I step into the legs and wrench them up as I walk back into my room to find Will standing in front of my dresser, inspecting my things, Sasha still comfortably sprawled in his arms while he lightly scratches her belly.

  “Jesus!” I shriek. “Do you mind?” I quickly turn away from him until my jeans are secured.

  “No, do you?”

  “Yes! Get out.”

  He takes one last look around and leaves the room, but instead of turning toward the front door, he turns in the opposite direction and stops in front of Carly’s room.

  “Sick! An axolotl.” Will disappears from the hallway, and when I find him again, he’s bent over, mesmerised by Carly’s Mexican walking fish. “I’ve always wanted one of these.”

  It’s hard to be annoyed; Rico is pretty darn cute.

  “That’s Rico.” I grab his packet of dried salmon flakes and sprinkle some into his tank. “Watch. He waves when you feed him.”

  And just like clockwork, Rico slowly swipes his foot in an arc.

  I smile and wave back. “You’re welcome, buddy.”

  Turning my head to see Will’s reaction, because it’s an awesome
trick, my smile falters when our eyes lock.

  We both straighten, and I have a sudden urge to move backward when he lowers Sasha to the floor and takes a step toward me, his pupils dilated, his tongue dampening his lips.

  “W-What?” I stutter, my shoulders hitting the doorframe, his body caging me to the spot when his palms press the wall beside my head.

  “Go out with me.”

  Chapter Eight

  “What? No!” I slide out from underneath his arm and back away.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  “I think you do.” He smiles and pushes off from the wall.

  “Well, you’re wrong.” I lower myself to the edge of my bed and keep my eyes on him as I feel around my feet for my shoes, snagging one in my hand and smiling back at him. “You’re not my type.”

  Will blinks, as if my answer is preposterous. “Of course I am.”

  “No, you’re not.” I snag the other shoe and slide it on. “For starters, you’re too”—I point to the dried smears of mud on his legs—“dirty.”

  He glances down then takes a step closer. “There’s nothing wrong with dirty, sweetheart.”

  Shooting to my feet, I back away, again, and point, again. “And you’re rude.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are.”

  “How am I rude?”

  “You…” I inch closer to the door. “You touched my things without permission.”

  “I like touching your things.”

  Heat pools between my legs, and I curse my traitorous body. It’s not thinking straight. Preparing to dive across my immaculately made bed just to put it between us, I realise being anywhere near a bed is a bad idea, given the look of lust in his heavy eyes. Plus, he seems the type of guy who’d destroy my hospital corners and cushion placement in the heat of the moment… which isn’t a bad thing, I guess.

  Oh my God! What am I saying? Of course it’s a bad thing.

  “You’re also lewd, and crude,” I blurt out, holding my head high as I march past him and into the hallway.

  He follows me. “If I’m lewd and crude, then you’re a prude.”

  What? “I am not a prude.” I spin around, my chest bumping into his, my body fizzling at his closeness.