Teach Me Like That (LMLT Book 2)

by Marie James

  The food and my belongings require three trips to and from my car to get it all in the house. This is one of those times a man would be helpful. Sexist? Of course, but carrying bulky, heavy things is pretty much a requirement if you’re a man. I do my best not to look distressed in case Kegan is watching me. The last thing I need is him trying to be helpful and following me into the house.

  Thirty minutes later the doorbell rings for the first time this evening. I try to make out the person by the shape of their body through the silkscreened glass, but can’t really tell who it is. I’m expecting three people this evening, but I know there’s a big chance that Kegan will somehow make his way over before leaving his work site for the evening.

  Thankfully, I find Justin standing on my front porch. I smile from ear to ear, but that still doesn’t stop the tear from rolling down my cheek. I step into him before he can make his way into the house.

  Did I mention that today is also the third anniversary of losing my grandparents? I lost so much more that day, but this is a grief that Justin and I share. He lost his grandparents that day as well. Justin had his own parents growing up, but Clive and Mona Carter raised me. They were practically the only parents I ever knew.

  “I know,” he says wrapping his arms all the way around me. “Shhh,” he whispers in my ear and rubs consoling circles on my back.

  He holds me for a few long minutes. He allows me to sob into his shirt and doesn’t pull away until my shoulders stop shaking.

  I finally let go of him and walk back into the house. No sooner do I get the bottle of wine he brought into the fridge and the doorbell is ringing again. It has to be Hawke because Jillian just walks right in like she owns the place.

  Hawke’s boisterous laugh, which I’ve grown fond of over the years, echoes off the walls. His exuberance is commonplace, but it’s the soft tinkle of a feminine laugh that’s out of place in my home. I round the corner and run into Hawke’s chest as he makes his way into the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine.

  I grab his arms to steady myself and look over his shoulder. A tiny pixie-like woman is standing in my living room with Justin.

  “Who is that?” I ask a little too loud drawing both her and Justin’s attention in my direction.

  “That’s Phoebe. My date.”

  He shoulders past me to the fridge.

  “What about Jillian?” I’m in best friend tiger mode right now, and today is not the day for him to be bringing bullshit into my house.

  “Jillian and I aren’t together,” he says dismissively.

  “Does she know that?” Where did that even come from? I know Jillian and Hawke have a weird ass dynamic. They’ve been dancing around each other for years, and it seems they’re the only ones who don’t realize how perfect they’d be together.

  “You’re purposely goading her, Hawke. Our monthly dinners are only for us four, and you know it.” I have no idea how Jillian is going to respond, but she’s not one to bite her tongue and just let something like this slide.

  “Tell her that,” he says angling his head toward the living room where Jillian just walked in wrapped from head to toe around a man I’ve never seen, even though he looks remarkably like David Beckham.

  This evening is going to be one for the books; I can already tell.

  Any other monthly get together someone would give me a hard time for not cooking, but everyone who’s important to me knows what today is; it’s one of the reasons we decided to do this today rather than the second Friday of the month like we usually do.

  The other two, Phoebe and Mark, don’t know any different. They’re here today, and we’ll probably never see them again. Neither Hawke nor Jillian is one to have any sort of long-term relationship. Hawke is the definition of a playboy, and Jillian has trouble committing to one brand of shampoo. Relationships to them are the equivalent of mythical beings and unicorns.

  I’d love nothing more than to rip into both Hawke and Jillian for breaking the sanctity of our dinner, but I don’t have the energy even to concern myself with them. They’re too busy trying to one-up each other even to notice my mood, and that hurts my feelings more than I should let it.

  The whole evening has been one hell of a show. They are both purposely baiting each other, acting as if their date is the declared love of their life. Phoebe looks like she’s in heaven as she bats her fake eyelashes at Hawke’s attention. Poor Mark looks like he may have food poisoning at Jillian’s fawning. If he gets sick at her lovey-dovey act, she will be cleaning up the mess.

  Normally, we would play Cards Against Humanity or some other game, but it wasn’t even suggested this evening. I had hoped that tonight would be a distraction from the anniversary, and it has been, just not the type of distraction I’d hoped for.

  I cut my eyes to Justin as Phoebe nuzzles her nose against Hawke’s jaw. He huffs a laugh when Jillian mimics her behavior and does the same to Mark.

  “How’s work?” I ask Justin pulling my attention away from the couples who are acting more like they’re in a club than my house in the suburbs.

  “Steady,” he responds. “We’re considering bringing in another attorney to help with the workload.”

  “That’s a great problem to have. Any front runners?”

  “We’ve had a few resumes sent in, but we haven’t decided on anyone yet. How’s life in the education industry?”

  “Chaotic,” I tell him. “The first part of the school year is always crazy, but my kiddos are settling in pretty well.”

  A low moan grabs my attention, and I look over at Phoebe and Hawke. I narrow my eyes when the pillow on Phoebe’s lap moves over Hawke’s hand.

  “Okay!” I say slapping my hands on my lap and standing from the sofa. “Well, I’m so glad everyone could come tonight, but I’m super tired and need to get some sleep.”

  If I let this go on any longer, I’m going to have to have my couch dry cleaned.

  I make eye contact with Jillian, doing my best to communicate my disappointment. Her face sobers, and she has enough humility to stop her performance immediately. Hawke, on the other hand, is so engrossed in production that he doesn’t cease his actions until Justin stands and clears his throat rudely.

  Jillian looks despondent at his actions, but clearly doesn’t take her own behavior into account. I love the woman to death, but accountability is not one of her strengths.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says after a quick kiss on the cheek. She squeezes my hand in lieu of apologizing.

  Hawke mutters a quick “thanks” and leaves with Phoebe.

  Thankfully, Justin sticks around long enough to help me get things cleaned up before making his way to the door. I follow him out on the porch and wrap my arms around my waist.

  “You going to be okay?” he asks stepping in for a hug.

  “Of course,” I tell him. It’s the truth. I’ve accepted my grief; it’s become a daily part of my life, but I don’t let it control me.

  “Liar,” he says in my ear. “I’m here if you need me.”

  “I appreciate that,” I whisper softly as he pulls away and kisses my cheek.

  I watch as he makes his way to his truck. My eyes follow his taillights all the way down my driveway until they disappear into the night.

  I’m home alone when all I really need right now is a distraction from life.

  Chapter 13

  Kegan

  It’s official; I’m a creeper, borderline stalker.

  I’ve resisted any and all urges to cross over onto Lexi’s property all week. I’ve worked shuffling other jobs so I can focus solely on this one. I haven’t seen her in days; if I had to guess, she’s been deliberately avoiding me. It wasn’t until I saw people show up at her house that the urge became irresistible.

  Two couples and a man I know not only from work, but also because of London, showed up. Deductive reasoning tells me Justin Bland is there for Lexi. He is the man who had his eyes set on London after she disappeared for months while pregnant with
Anastyn. I have a working relationship with Justin, but it’s strained because of his previous interest in my sister-in-law.

  I’m not available.

  Those three words, spoken last week, echo in my head as I sit in my truck and stare at her house like some detective on a stakeout. Her words are clear as day. She has no interest in me. It’s the hiccup in her body’s response to me that’s making me take pause and ignore our conversations. Her mouth says not interested, but her body is screaming for me to take charge. But, since I’m a firm believer in no-means-no, I’ve taken a step back.

  I’ve left her alone all week, but watching Justin on the porch wrapping his arms around her, is my limit. His lips brush her cheek and my resolve snaps. She told me she was in a relationship, and I was willing to leave her alone, but she could do so much better than Justin Bland.

  What are the chances that he’s been the one separating both Kadin and me from the women we’re focused on? More so Kadin because she was carrying his child when Justin tried to make his move. Okay, it was incredibly more complicated than that, but still.

  Jealousy, a feeling I don’t experience often, is creeping into my bones. As much as the infrequent emotion makes me nervous, it’s still not enough to keep me from getting out of my truck and walking over to her door.

  I knock with determination and stand, waiting for her to answer.

  The door is pulled open. “Did you forget your…?”

  Her question stops when she realizes it’s not Justin coming back after realizing a peck on the cheek wasn’t good enough on a Friday night.

  “Kegan,” she says in a tone that hints at more relief than annoyance.

  See? Mixed signals all over the place.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “I have not,” she says standing a little straighter.

  Her cheeks flush a light shade of pink betraying her lie.

  “Week before last you were home every day before five. This week we’re gone before you get home.”

  “Are you stalking me now?”

  Busted.

  “No,” I backpedal. “It’s just an observation.”

  She smirks at me, not believing a word I say, which she shouldn’t, since I’m full of shit.

  “What brings you over tonight?”

  The smile is still on her face, but there’s also an air of sadness surrounding her. Any other time when a woman presents with emotional drama, I’d do my best to remove myself from the situation. For some reason, though, I’m finding myself actually wanting to know why the light I’m used to seeing in her eyes is dull.

  “I saw your company leave.”

  She cocks an eyebrow up. “It’s been dark for hours. Were you just driving by and noticed them leaving or have you been sitting next door waiting for them to leave?”

  Busted again.

  I ignore her question and busy myself swatting away the bugs that are swarming around her porch light.

  She watches me and glances back over her shoulder to the screen door.

  “Damn it,” she mumbles. “Come inside.” She’s the one offering, but at the same time, she’s acting like I’m forcing her invitation.

  I’m not going to turn it down, but I take note of her annoyance at the suggestion.

  I follow her through the house to the den; the very room she told me previously she spends a lot of her time in. I can’t help but glance at the living room in all its outdated glory. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. I don’t even know what I’m looking for, dishevelment maybe? Justin wasn’t here very long after the others left. I’m not discounting the notion that he may be a quick in-and-out kind of guy, but Lexi doesn’t look like she’s been thoroughly fucked.

  I smile at the thought. It means I’ll be even more appealing to her.

  It’s apparent she’s invaded my senses and is doing something to my integrity, because before Lexi came along I’d never even consider poaching another man’s girl. Add that to the fact that it’s Justin Bland, and I’m all for stepping on toes to get what I want.

  “Your reason for visiting?” Lexi asks again as she settles on a comfortable looking couch.

  I look around the room and nod in appreciation. I honestly didn’t know how the lime green was going to look since it’s such an off the wall color, but somehow she’s made it work.

  “Justin Bland?” I say. “You turn me down for Justin Bland?”

  “What are you talking about?” She honestly looks confused.

  “I saw him leave. Nice little PDA on the front porch.”

  She narrows her eyes, and I know I need to tone it down a bit.

  Even though my brain tells me to back off, my mouth just keeps digging the hole. “You told me you weren’t available. I get that, but Justin Bland? You could do so much better than him.”

  “Seriously?” she says with more than a little aggravation in her voice.

  “I guarantee spending time with me would be much more enjoyable than him. Time is precious,” I add. “You shouldn’t be wasting it on him.”

  “That a fact?”

  “Yep,” I nod in agreement and sit in an armchair across from her.

  “Who do you think you are?” I don’t respond, assuming the question is rhetorical. “You don’t get to dictate who I spend time with.”

  She has a point, but I’m nowhere near giving up on the idea of getting her naked.

  I watch as she brings her hand to her face. Her fingers pinch the bridge of her nose, and my smile falls. I’m upsetting her, seriously upsetting her. This isn’t one of our back and forth banter conversations like we had last week. I suddenly remember the sadness in her eyes on the front porch, and I want to kick my own ass for being such a shithead.

  “I’m not dating Justin,” she says quietly.

  Thank fuck.

  “So he’s not competition?”

  She looks up at me. “Competition for what?”

  “You,” I simply say.

  “I’m not a conquest, Kegan.”

  “Of course you are.” Hello, asshole. “I only ask about Justin because I need to know what’s standing in my way.”

  “I’m not a fucking toy. You wanting to fight over me for whatever end you think is there is ridiculous.” Her anger is growing exponentially, as it should with the stupid shit that just came out of my mouth.

  I have nothing left in my arsenal since my panty-dropping smile doesn’t seem to work on her.

  We spend the next couple of minutes just looking at each other. The longer I catalog her face and that soft spot on her neck right below her ear, the more determined I am to get her in bed. Who am I kidding? Bent over the couch, up against the wall, or on the floor would suit me just fine

  “Justin Bland is my cousin,” she says finally breaking the silence. “Our mothers were sisters.”

  I want to smile at her admission, but even I have the sense to know now is not the right time.

  I sit back further in my chair and spread my legs wide. When I rest my hands in my lap, I notice her eyes following them, resting a few inches lower than my hands.

  My lip twitches as I remain silent while her eyes pause on my crotch. I clear my throat abruptly. If she keeps gawking at my jeans, she’s going to get more than an eyeful since my cock is already thickening at her attention.

  Her eyes snap to mine, and she has the decency to blush at being caught.

  I grin at her.

  “You’re incorrigible,” she snaps.

  “Don’t put this off on me, Lexi. You’re the one staring at my dick, not the other way around.”

  She cuts her eyes to the other side of the room, and once again I can’t read her mood.

  The urge to ask her if she’s bipolar skates across my mind, but somehow I’m able to keep the question off my lips. With the way her emotions seem to be all over the place tonight, I run a real risk of her killing me and burying my body next door at the job site.

  “Why are you here, Kegan?”

  I grin fr
om ear to ear. She’s asking a question she already knows the answer to.

  Chapter 14

  Lexi

  The glint in his eyes and the huge grin on his face explains exactly what his intentions are. I should expect nothing less from Kegan Cole. The man emanates sex appeal without even trying. I can see why women probably throw themselves at him. It’s probably the reason he’s struggling so much with my numerous rejections.

  My own lips tingle, an automatic response to his domineering personality.

  Wasn’t I just thinking a distraction would be the best thing for me right now?

  The only problem is using Kegan as a distraction has disastrous consequences of epic proportions. A decision like the one he’s expecting me to make right now, shouldn’t be done when I’m in this mind frame.

  The anniversary of the car wreck is clouding my judgment and forcing my emotions all over the place.

  “What’s it gonna be, beautiful?”

  The tone of his voice and the way he’s already concluded I’m a sure thing grates on my nerves, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering exactly how much he could change my mood. I watch his fingers stretch out and curl back up on his solid thighs.

  Am I actually considering this? Would letting him take my mind off the shit bouncing around in my head be worth the repercussions if anyone found out? Would that type of fallout be worth the hour or so of distraction he may be able to provide?

  I could easily say my brain is fighting my baser urges, but honestly half of my brain is on Team Get It Over With.

  I’m fighting a losing battle here.

  What does it matter if I sleep with him today or two weeks from now when he finds another reason to show up at my house and tempt my resolve with his quirky smile and gorgeous blue eyes? That’s the fact, plain and simple. I will eventually cave to him. I know it as sure as I know that no matter how much grief is controlling my emotions right now, that the sun will rise again tomorrow.

  “What do you mean?” I ask trying to stall until I can think of something else to say.