Caught Up in You (In Shady Grove Book 3)

by Beth Andrews

  “Sorry, sorry,” Leo said, holding a hand up. But he kept right on chortling. “James is right, though. It happens to the best of us. I mean, not me, of course. But then, I’m a lot prettier than either of you two.”

  Because it was true, and because Eddie was frustrated with his thoughts about Harper and worried about his kid spending so much time with Lena, he couldn’t let Leo’s teasing slide off his back.

  “Not in the mood for you or your mouth right now,” he warned, knowing full well Leo didn’t take warnings seriously. He saw them as a red flag, one waving in the wind.

  As Eddie had hoped, Leo’s grin slid from amused to cocky. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Leo thought he could beat Eddie. It was an idea that’d first taken hold when they’d been seventeen and fifteen and Leo had shot past him in height.

  Eddie had quickly disabused him of that notion. And he didn’t mind continuing that lesson as many times as his fatheaded brother needed. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

  “No one is going to do any such thing,” Rose warned, leaning across her husband to give her sons a stern glare.

  “How’d you even hear that?” Leo asked, since their mother had seemed to be in deep conversation with Maddie.

  “Mothers are trained to pick up certain words no matter how softly they’re uttered. Now act like the responsible, mature men I like to pretend you are and watch the game.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Eddie and Leo said at the same time.

  Eddie faced forward, watched the kids on the ice. What a crap morning.

  Harper had shown up and given him the it’s not you, it’s me bullshit speech, Max was spending the rest of the day with Lena and now Eddie couldn’t even take his frustrations out on Leo’s hide.

  Leaning forward, his knees digging into the back of Eddie’s ribs, Leo sang Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” under his breath.

  Eddie exhaled heavily. Then, in one smooth motion, stood and raised his elbow—connecting sharply with his brother’s nose.

  “Ow.” Leo cupped his hands under the blood dripping from his nostrils.

  Glared at Eddie.

  Eddie pursed his lips. “Oops. My bad.”

  Then he sat again, fighting to hide a grin. Maybe his day was looking up after all.

  * * *

  EDDIE MONTESANO WAS a man of his word.

  For the past two weeks when he’d come in to help with the kids, he’d seemed comfortable and completely at ease.

  Guess their kiss—and her rejection—hadn’t meant much to him.

  He’d probably already moved on, Harper thought, looking for a pen in her desk drawer. Was probably pursuing another woman. Someone who didn’t overreact to a simple kiss. Who wasn’t stuck in the past. Some long-legged brunette like the woman he’d loved enough to marry.

  Harper slammed the drawer shut, almost taking her fingers off in the process.

  “You okay?” Eddie asked from his seat on the other side of her desk.

  “Fine. Just fine.” Giving up on the pen idea, she smiled tightly at him. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

  After the whole kiss/brownie-throwing debacle at her house, Harper had decided it was better, safer, for them to discuss Max’s progress right here in her classroom, gossip or any worries about her playing favorites with a student be damned.

  “No,” Eddie said, getting to his feet. He slapped the folder against his thigh. “From now on, you can send the reports home with Max. If I have any questions, I’ll let you know.”

  He didn’t want to meet with her, had no reason to even see her again since Lydia was to return as room mother Tuesday. Harper shouldn’t be surprised Eddie didn’t want to be around her anymore. Shouldn’t be hurt.

  But she was.

  “I hope we can at least meet face-to-face at the end of the next marking period,” she said, standing. “Unless you plan on reneging on your promise?”

  As per the agreement she’d dragged out of him, if Max didn’t improve by the end of next month, Eddie would let Joan observe Max in the classroom and have him evaluated for ADHD by his pediatrician. Though a few of the techniques she’d implemented were helping Max, he was still behind on all subjects—a fact recorded in his report card last week.

  “I keep my word,” Eddie said so simply, she felt about two inches tall for being snide.

  Damn him.

  She nodded as if she’d had no doubt of that. Straightening the already straight piles of papers on her desk, she searched for something to say to keep him here. To keep him talking to her.

  Or, as the case may be, responding to her in as few words as possible.

  “Max is excited about spending the night with his mother,” Harper blurted when Eddie started turning as if to leave.

  “He’s looking forward to it.”

  From the flat tone of his voice, Eddie wasn’t too happy about that.

  “I think it’s really nice,” Harper said, “the way you’re letting your ex-wife have time with Max.”

  “After Lena was here last time, I spoke with my attorney. She feels it’s best I let Lena see Max as often as possible. In case Lena decides to sue for more custody.”

  “Is that what Lena wants?” He lifted a shoulder. Harper couldn’t help but heave a soft sigh of exasperation. “If you’re unsure and obviously worried about it, why don’t you just ask her?”

  He looked away for a second, his mouth a thin line. “Because,” he said, his voice low, his eyes on hers again, “I’m afraid I won’t like the answer.”

  “Sometimes, those are the questions that need asking the most.”

  “Sometimes, they need to be left unsaid.”

  He walked toward the door and she hurried around the desk. “I guess we’re both on our own for the night,” she said then slapped a hand over her mouth. Oh, dear God, that had sounded like a hint, a broad one letting him know she was free for the evening.

  He faced her and she quickly dropped her hand. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Where’s Cass?”

  “She’s spending the night with my in-laws.” Harper forced a smile. “When I have the house to myself I always plan on getting a ton of work done—cleaning out dresser drawers and the refrigerator, painting walls, maybe even cooking meals ahead to freeze...” She rolled her eyes at her own delusions of grandeur. “Then I end up eating a bowl of cereal for dinner and curling up with a good book for hours on end.” She linked her hands together in front of her at her waist. “What about you?”

  “I don’t often curl up with a book. Good or otherwise.”

  “No.” She swallowed. “I mean, do you have plans? For tonight.”

  “Plans?”

  Did he have to repeat what she said? It drove her nuts. “Plans. Dinner plans with your family or...or...a...” She could barely even think it, let alone say it. “A date,” she said, spitting the offensive word out.

  He stood in the doorway, looking big and broad and handsome. “I don’t have a date.”

  Relief rushed through her, made her knees weak. “No?”

  He gave one slow shake of his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “No.”

  “So you plan on staying home tonight, too?”

  Another of those head shakes. “I’m going to eat dinner at O’Riley’s at seven.” He turned only to face her again and murmur, “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

  12

  TWO HOURS LATER, Harper let herself into her house, tossed her keys onto the small table in the foyer, Eddie’s words echoing in her head.

  Maybe I’ll see you there.

  Did that mean what she thought it meant? He wanted to see her there?

  But he hadn’t asked her to dinner. He was leaving it, the decision, up to her.

  Was that supposed to make her feel in control? She snorted, shoving a Barbie doll aside with her foot. How could it when she’d never felt so out of control in her life? So confused. Conflicted.

  She’d thought of him. During times when sh
e used to think of Beau, when she used to remember how they were together, how he’d been, Eddie had slipped into her head instead.

  She paced the confines of her living room, bumped into the coffee table, skirted it and made the trek toward the television.

  She glanced at the clock. Six-thirty. She wasn’t going. She couldn’t. O’Riley’s was a popular bar, a place where many people went for drinks or a casual dinner.

  Someone, possibly many someones, would see her there. With Eddie.

  Beau had only been gone eleven months. It was too soon to date. Too soon to even think about letting another man kiss her. Touch her. Make love to her.

  Except she was thinking about it. Had thought of it over and over again since Eddie had kissed her on her porch two weeks ago.

  But that’s all she’d do, she assured herself. Think about it. About Eddie.

  She’d just stay home tonight. Maybe she’d order Chinese, watch a romantic comedy. She had the house to herself. Her time was hers, all hers. She could do anything she wanted. Or nothing at all.

  That’s what she’d do, Harper thought with a nod as she plopped down onto the couch and picked up the TV remote, pushed the on button. She’d hang out here. By herself.

  Alone.

  There was nothing, absolutely nothing wrong with being alone. She’d been a single woman way before she’d met Beau. There had been plenty of weekends where she’d curled up on her couch with a good book or small stack of DVDs. She’d been fine then and she’d be fine now.

  But as the TV came to life, she didn’t see a commercial for car insurance, she saw Eddie’s face, heard his voice again. She saw him sitting at O’Riley’s by himself. Waiting for her.

  How long would he wait?

  What if he decided she wasn’t worth waiting for?

  She clicked off the TV and jumped to her feet, searched frantically for her car keys—which she knew darn well were on the table where she’d tossed them. Luckily, she glanced down, saw she was in just her socks and she still had on her god-awful Shady Grove Elementary shirt and horribly wrinkled khakis.

  She checked the time again. Six-forty. Ugh. Peeling the shirt off, she hurried to her bedroom. Yes, she could be alone. Had been alone, had been lonely a few times. But tonight she didn’t have to be. Tonight she could be with Eddie.

  * * *

  IT WAS SEVEN-TWENTY.

  The waitress came up to Eddie’s table yet again. In the past few months, O’Riley’s had grown quickly from a popular bar to a popular restaurant. The tables and booths were filled with the dinner crowd. It would shift eventually as the diners left. People would come in wanting a drink or two instead of a meal, they’d crowd onto the tiny dance floor or play pool, maybe throw some darts.

  But right now, he was smack dab in the dinner rush, taking a table on a busy night and he hadn’t ordered anything other than a beer.

  He was lucky the waitress with the funny crooked hair and neck tattoo didn’t stab him in the throat with a fork.

  He couldn’t wait for Harper any longer.

  Shouldn’t have waited this long, wasn’t sure why he had.

  He’d been hopeful. After two weeks of keeping his distance, of trying to convince himself that he had little interest left for her, his damn hopes had soared simply because she’d asked about his plans for the night. Had told him she was going to be alone.

  He thought she’d wanted to be with him.

  Stupid.

  “I’ll have the fish fry,” he told the waitress. “And an order of sausage bread to start.” He doubted it would come even close to Pops’s bread but he wanted to make sure his bill covered the time he’d sat there not eating. He handed the laminated menu to her. “And another beer when you get a minute.”

  “Hi.”

  He glanced up to see Harper, her cheeks pink, her breathing fast. She swallowed. Searched his gaze.

  “I’m not too late, am I?” she asked, and he wasn’t sure what she meant, but it seemed to be more than just if she was too late for dinner.

  Christ, but he was glad—really glad—to see her.

  He just wasn’t sure if he should be.

  Standing, he reached around to pull out her chair, and she sat and hung her purse over the back of it. She’d changed into dark jeans that cupped her hips and ass and a V-neck sweater that showed the pale, delicate skin of her chest, the curve of her breasts.

  Leo’s voice floated through Eddie’s mind. Hot for teacher, indeed.

  The waitress took Harper’s order and Eddie sipped his beer to soothe his dry throat. He wanted to tell her he was happy she’d come, that she looked pretty in that peach sweater, that he was looking forward to getting to know her better.

  He kept silent. It was safer. And, if he was being honest with himself, easier.

  When they were alone, Harper smiled at him, seemed more at ease as she looked around. Eddie gave himself a mental pat on the back for choosing a table in the far corner where the lighting was dim, the sounds somewhat muted. Where fewer people could see them.

  “Not much has changed about this place since I was here last,” Harper said. She shifted. Their table was small, so small that her knee bumped his. He didn’t move away.

  “When was that?” he asked.

  He liked how her forehead crinkled when she was thinking, as if she had to get it just right. As if they were the students in class and the teacher had called on her.

  “Five years...no, more like six.” She brushed her hair aside, smiled at the waitress when she brought Harper’s glass of wine. “Beau and I came here after his stepbrother’s wedding and...” She shook her head. “And I doubt you want to hear about ancient history.”

  He had a feeling she thought he didn’t want to hear about her husband. Looked as if he was going to have to figure out the right thing to say. Never an easy or comfortable task for him. But he’d give it a shot.

  “I want to hear about you,” he finally said.

  She sipped her wine, averted her gaze. “I’m an open book. A boring one.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “No?”

  He thought she was fascinating. He had firsthand insight into her as a teacher. Had seen her with the kids in her class, how good she was with them, how much she cared about them. He’d seen her with her daughter, knew she was an excellent mother. She was smart, pretty, friendly and way too open.

  “No,” he said gruffly. “There’s nothing boring about you.”

  She reached over, laid her hand on his, her fingers warm and soft. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”

  He wanted to turn his hand, capture hers with his, link their fingers together. Because he did, too much, he waited a moment and then slid his hand away on the pretense of lifting his beer. “I doubt that.”

  She’d been married to a lawyer. A trial attorney who used words for a living. Beau Kavanagh had probably told her daily how special she was. How beautiful. Things that Eddie thought to say but for some reason, couldn’t get out.

  “I’m being serious,” Harper said. “It is one of the nicest things anyone’s said about me because I know you mean it.”

  “I’m that easy to read?”

  She laughed, the sound drawing attention from the table next to them, had the other diners smiling. “No, because you don’t say anything you don’t mean. Anyone who speaks as infrequently as you do usually means what they say. Why waste those precious words on lies?”

  “Exactly.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about her knowing him that well, though. “Tell me about the last time you were here.”

  She hesitated but then nodded. “Like I said, it was after Michael’s wedding. We all came here after the venue in Pittsburgh shut down for the night, and a couple of college kids hit on one of the bridesmaids. She wasn’t interested but they weren’t too eager to take no for an answer. Her boyfriend got involved and—” She shrugged. “One thing led to another and the next thing I know, guys are pushing each other, yell
ing. I thought for sure a riot was about to erupt but Beau talked everyone down, had them buying each other drinks by the end of the night.”

  “He was a mediator?”

  “He was a charmer. And, yes, a peacekeeper. I think he came into that role naturally, playing it between his parents until they divorced. He then took those two natural abilities—that charm and the ability to talk anyone into anything, and his wanting peace between all parties—and decided to make a career out of them. Then again, I guess that’s what a lot of people do.”

  “Did you?”

  “I loved kids, always knew I wanted to be a teacher. What about you?”

  “I knew I wasn’t cut out for college—obviously.”

  She frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “You know what it means.”

  “Just because you had some struggles, doesn’t mean you can’t get a college degree. I just figured you didn’t want one. Not everyone does.”

  That was true and had been for him. Even if he had been able to get better grades, the idea of sitting in classrooms for another four years had made him break out in a cold sweat. It still did.

  The waitress brought their appetizer, set it on the table between them.

  Harper groaned and the thought of her making that sound for him, because of what he was doing to her, had his body stirring.

  “Oh, that smells so good,” she said.

  “Help yourself.”

  She looked at him as if he’d just suggested she crawl on top of the table and nibble on his neck.

  Which wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever heard.

  “Do you know how many carbs are in this? Not to mention fat. And the calories. Oh, the calories.”

  She was so earnest, his lips twitched. “No. Not calories.”

  “Sure, jest. You’re not the one trying to lose ten...okay, okay...fifteen pounds.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you want to lose weight?” Lena had been always moaning about calories and carbs and working out. When she’d been pregnant, every bite of food had to be measured, weighed and carefully calculated so she could achieve her goal of being back to her pre-baby weight within four weeks of giving birth.