by D. L. Roan
Grey chuckled and took a relaxed sip of his coffee, confident in his decision. “I’ve been called worse.”
Settling back against her seat, Claira shook her head in frustration. She waved to the waitress and pulled her purse into her lap. “I’ll have one of these to go and the check, please,” she said and pulled out her wallet.
Unaffected by her denial, Grey drained his cup and picked up the other full one. “So what time do I need to pick you up?”
Claira paused and then dropped her hands to her lap in defeat. “Why are you doing this? You don’t even like me.”
Grey started counting. One Mississippi. Don’t like her? She’s eating me alive from the inside out and she doesn’t think I like her? Fuck that! Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi.
I spent the night on her porch, sitting in a chair built for a freaking doll house no less. I took out—four Mississippi—five Mississippi—breathe. I took out a knee cap on the dashboard of that fucked-up, deathtrap she calls a car when she slammed on the brakes for some stupid, confused squirrel. Damn thing was probably trying to mate with the hamster under the hood.
Six Mississippi—I haven’t showered, shaved or—breathe, or had near enough coffee to make even the slightest dent in this ass-kicking headache. She doesn’t think I like her? How about the hard-on pressing against my zipper? That should give her a fucking clue! Seven Mississippi, eight Mississippi! To hell with Mississippi!
He slid out of the booth and stood before her, towering over her so close she had to lean back to look up into his eyes. When she did, the ominous cloud that had hung in his gaze moments earlier was gone, replaced by steel determination and that same flash of desire she’d seen that first day in class. Only this time it was more than a fleeting flash, it was a flash flood of boiling lava. He pulled a chair from a nearby table and straddled it, his face mere inches from hers.
“Grey.”
On her one word protest, her lips parted, his hands cupped her face. He pulled her to him with lightning speed and crushed his mouth to hers. Claira tensed as the taste of coffee and Grey burst over her tongue and short circuited her nervous system. She forgot how to breathe. Her heart rate hit the stratosphere. Her skin felt like it had melted from the friction of her blood running through her veins at such a frantic pace.
She didn’t know what she expected Grey’s kiss to feel like; had barely dared to imagine him kissing her at all. She certainly didn’t expect the gentle, commanding presence that flowed around and through her, bending her will to his own as his tongue slid beyond her lips and glided smoothly over hers.
Just like that, she surrendered to his command. Her spine arched toward him, air filled her burning lungs at a frantic pace. When his tongue retreated, she leaned in and chased it back, unwilling to let him go so soon. She wasn’t sure how they got there, but when her fingers slid through his thick, silky hair at the base of his neck a helpless whimper squeaked in her throat and she drew him closer. His hands moved from her face to her shoulders, and then suddenly he was pushing her away. He tensed before he tore his mouth from hers, his breaths coming in erratic pants.
The dark cloud was back in his eyes, intense and piercing, making her flinch as he pulled back and focused his cold gaze on her. She couldn’t read him. Was he angry?
Before Claira could consider it further, Grey jumped to his feet, the movement so fast the chair he was sitting in tilted and wobbled on one leg, nearly falling over before he caught it and swung it back to the table behind him. “I’ll pick you up at three,” he nodded, turned on his heel and stormed through the front door of the diner, ringing the life out of the little bell hanging at the top.
Chapter Twenty
Grey was gone. Claira’s gaze moved precariously around the small diner, noticing half a dozen people staring at her with mixed reactions on their faces. With her wits returning from the little vacation they had taken while Grey’s tongue was down her throat, she felt her cheeks heat with another flush of embarrassment and frustration. Who did he think he was, kissing her like that and then pushing her away? It wasn’t as if she’d asked him to kiss her.
Claira picked up her wallet, pausing when she noticed the ten dollar bill already lying on the table. When had he done that? She shook her head and stuffed her wallet back in her purse. She needed to get out of there and get to work. And under no circumstances was she letting Mr. Grey McLendon pick her up from school or stay at her house.
Okay, so she may have a deadly, pissed off mobster looking for her. No, there was no maybe about it. Lucien was looking, but it didn’t mean he’d find her. And what made Grey think he knew her? He didn’t know anything about her. No one did.
Claira Robbins had no history. Her birthday, even her credit score was made up for crying out loud. You’d think they could have given her a score above six hundred, not that she needed credit. That was her; no history, no family, no friends and three outrageously frustrating and beautiful men that were driving her slowly insane. Pathetic.
Claira stormed out the door, forgetting her coffee-to-go order, and made her way back to her car. Her smart, little car. She couldn’t stop the smile that erupted when she remembered Grey’s big body stuffed into her passenger seat like a smashed loaf of bread. Just as quick, her smile faded, her brows furrowing together when the vision of his cold, angry stare flashed through her mind as he pushed her away from him. Frustrating man!
Her cellphone’s shrill ring pulled her from her confusing thoughts. She hurried to dig it from her purse with one hand as she unlocked her car with the other. Glancing at the caller ID, not recognizing the number, she clicked the talk button.
“Hello?” When no one answered she pulled the phone back to look at it. “Hello?” She tried again. Nothing. She hung up, tossed her phone back into her purse and started the car, clicking her seatbelt into place. As she was pulling away from the diner, the phone began to ring again. “Not again.” She didn’t think she could take another day of anonymous hang-ups. She’d already changed her number once.
As soon as her phone stopped ringing it started again. Keeping her eyes on the road, she fished out her phone and answered it. “Look, if you’re not going to say anything, then stop calling me!”
“Claira? Are you ok?”
Claira’s shoulders slumped when she heard Mason’s calming voice. “Mason,” she sighed as she pulled into the faculty parking lot and shut off her car.
“Good morning, sweetheart. What was that all about?”
She slumped in her seat and released another long breath. It felt so good to hear his strong, soothing voice. “Sorry,” she smiled into the phone as if he could see it. “I’ve been getting a lot of hang up calls lately. I need to change my number.”
“Prank calls?”
“I guess,” she huffed. “They never say anything. They either hang up or wait until I do.”
Mason wanted to confront her, ask her who she was running from. But the last thing he wanted to do was upset her even more before she went into work. Based on the call he’d just gotten, Grey had already done quite a job of that. “I think you should change your number if they don’t stop. Just be sure to give me the new one.”
She smiled again at his teasing tone. Not wanting to worry him, she decided not to say anything about changing it the first time. “I will.” Another thought occurred to her as she looked out the windshield and noticed the first few students being dropped off. She’d been hoping to get an earlier start, and would have if Grey hadn’t ambushed her. “Who’s dropping the boys off today since Grey decided to stay the night on my front porch? Aren’t Monday’s his day to drive them?”
“Look out your window.”
Claira turned and saw Mason in Matt’s truck pulling into the parking lot. “You’re here.” The breathless sigh of relief and excitement caught her a little off guard. Was it possible to feel so many things for someone she’d just met? It didn’t make sense. She felt like she was losing control of everything. She couldn’t affo
rd to lose control, but she didn’t seem to be able to stop any of it from happening.
Mason backed the truck in next to her. She winced when she saw the huge dent in the rear door before it opened and the twins spilled out. Mason ran around the front of the truck and squatted in front of Con and Car as she opened her car door.
“Hey, Miss Robbins,” Car turned and waved, his smile as bright as the morning sun. Con was still wiping the sleep from his eyes, his greeting more of a grunt, like someone else she knew.
Claira smiled, intent on hiding her frustrations and confusion. She was sure it fooled everyone but Mason. “Hi,” she smiled as she watched the boys run off to her class.
“Hi, yourself.” The look on Mason’s face made her weak in the knees. Where Grey was sleepy and grumpy, Mason looked like he’d just rolled off the cover of a magazine instead of a bed. He took the few steps needed to close the space between them and wrapped her in a warm embrace. “I want to kiss you really, really badly, but I know it would make you feel uncomfortable here at the school. So I’ll settle for a hug.”
Claira wanted to jump in his arms and beg him to take her home, but he was right. It wouldn’t be proper and God only knew what kind of gossip it would start, not that she cared that much about wagging tongues. Instead, she relaxed in his arms and released the rest of the tension that had knotted inside her. When she thought about Grey’s kiss and the way he acted afterward, the conflicting emotions sent a shiver down her spine.
“Are you cold?” Matt asked as he squeezed her tighter in his arms. “I have a sweatshirt in the truck you can borrow. It’ll warm up by lunch, I’m sure.”
Claira shook her head and pulled back from his embrace. “It’s not that. I just...” How did she explain it? Grey was contradicting on so many levels. His kiss was so warm and commanding, she couldn’t deny how wonderful and surprising it felt. She’d thought for one brief moment she’d read him wrong and maybe he did like her the way his brothers did, but he clearly wasn’t ready for whatever this was they were doing. Either that or he didn’t like her kiss. Oh, no! What if that was it. What if he’d pushed himself to give her a chance and he didn’t find what he was looking for?
“Hey.” Mason’s soft voice broke her panic and her eyes snapped up to his. “Don’t over think what happened this morning.” Mason smiled and cupped her face in his big warm hands.
“He called you, huh?”
“Yeah.” Mason nodded. “You’ve turned his comfortable, controlled, self-loathing world completely upside down and he’s trying to find his footing. He’s overreaching a bit with this whole moving in thing, but it’s his way. He protects what’s his. We all do.”
Claira slumped in his arms. I’m not his. I’m not anyone’s. Knowing it was a losing battle, she tried anyway to dissuade their feelings about her needing protecting. She didn’t want them to worry or start prying around for answers she couldn’t give them. Or worse, get hurt because of her. “I’m not in any danger.”
Still not wanting to upset her day, Mason decided to wait a few more hours before he started demanding the truth. “Go make geniuses out of our sons,” he smiled and gave her a pat on the rear, fighting to keep a respectable distance. “I’ll be over with dinner later and we’ll talk.”
Claira fought her own urges not to lean in and reach for a quick kiss. Pushing her warring emotions aside, she grabbed her books and purse from the car then ran in to greet the twins and her other students for a fresh start to a new week.
Half a dozen hang-ups and six hours later she stepped out of her classroom and locked the door behind her. “Shhhoot!” She jumped when Grey’s hand landed on her shoulder. God, she needed to calm down, or drink less coffee. How was she going to convince them nothing was wrong when she couldn’t convince herself?
“Sorry,” Grey whispered. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Claira released a ragged breath and shook off her rioting nerves as she took in his polished, yet rugged appearance. Wearing a pair of black jeans that melded to his strong, lean thighs, and another green button-up that mirrored the color of his eyes, she couldn’t help but noticed the trickle of jet black hair that peeked out from the open collar. His presence was both comforting and alarming. She knew he’d never harm her, even felt safe with him—not to mention aroused—but he saw too much and made her feel too many conflicting emotions. And he was a stubborn ass.
“Ready to go?” He asked, his hand laying claim to her lower back. The heat from his touch radiated through the thin material of her shirt and made her want to push back against it.
She straightened her shoulders and shook her head. “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”
Grey’s lips quirked up into a mischievous grin and one brow arched up to match the sentiment behind his words. “You just now figuring that out?”
“Jackass,” she whispered as she fell into step next to him.
“Now you’re getting closer,” he chuckled and ushered her down the long, dim hallway toward the exit.
“Miss Robbins! Oh, Miss Robbins! This was left for you—oh!”
Claira cringed when she’d heard the stuffy, aristocratic voice calling her name through the halls. When Grey turned her to face the man that had forever ruined the sound of her new name, she had to cover her mouth to keep the laugh from bubbling out uninvited. The sourpuss look on Principal Dawes’s face as he heel-toed it down the hall after them was priceless. You could almost hear the squeak from the stick up his butt when he walked.
~*~*~*~*~
“Mr. McLendon, how nice to see you.” Principal Dawes’ surprised and confused expression never left Claira as he extended a hand to Grey. “Is everything ok with our Miss Robbins?”
Grey held back a groan as he reached for the man’s limp-wristed attempt at a greeting. Not yours, asshole. “You’ll have to ask her.” He despised the sniveling, little bug and he’d be damned if he’d let him belittle her again.
Dawes ignored the retort. With a snarl he handed Claira a legal-sized envelope. “This was left at the office for you today, Miss Robbins. In the future, we’d appreciate if you restrict your personal deliveries to your home.”
Grey’s hands twitched with the need to bend the little prick over and shove his size thirteen boot up the guy’s tight ass. He grabbed the envelope from Claira’s hand and tucked it under his arm. “I had that sent here and I had expected it to be delivered before now. My time is in short supply, Mr. Dawes. I’d expected her to have my schedule available for review before our meeting this afternoon.”
“Meeting?” Dawes choked on his question, his eyes fixed on the envelope.
Grey crossed his arms over his chest and leaned toward the little shit, causing him to take a step back. He knew he was being a dick, but he didn’t care. “Miss Robbins will be tutoring my sons this summer. I’ll expect your cooperation in the future if the need should arise.”
“Of course.” Dawes nodded aggressively, looking more like a spring-challenged bobble head. He turned a panicked smile to Claira. “Anything you need, Miss Robbins, you let me know.” With that, he turned and rushed back down the hall toward his office.
Chapter Twenty-One
Claira’s heart pumped fiercely as it expanded against her chest. No one had ever stood up for her the way Grey just had, except for Stephan. She looked up at him, studying his hard expression as he stared after Principal Dawes. Like he’s the bug to be squashed instead of me.
Grey was the most stubborn, mercurial, sometimes infuriating, tenderhearted and protective man she’d ever known, and all of a sudden she found herself in the safe fold of his protectiveness instead of being on the outside.
It was a heady sensation; an honor, really. Her insides fluttered with mixed emotions, again. Was he really trying to protect her? Why? Why did he walk away from her at the coffee shop? Why did he look at her like he could eat her alive one minute, and then like he wanted to tie her to the bumper of his truck and take off down the road the next?
She was so confused. How was she supposed to know which way was up with him? She was nowhere near close to figuring any of those things out when he ushered her out into the sunbathed parking lot and she got her first glimpse of her car, and all four flat tires.
Claira stood dumbstruck in the middle of the school parking lot staring at her crippled car. Grey was pacing around, talking to someone on his cellphone. It wasn’t until she heard the tail end of a snarl that she realized who he was talking to.
“I don’t give a damn if all your men are at Falcon Ridge inspecting my herd! I don’t care if you have to deputize half the goddamn county. Get someone out here to inspect her car, now! And Sheriff, I want someone at her house before we get there! Harvest Lane. Yeah, ten minutes, fifteen tops.”
With another growl he shoved his phone into his front pocket and marched toward her, taking her by her hand and pulling her to his truck. “Where are we going? I have to wait for the police!”
She tried to turn back to her poor little car, but Grey kept a tight hold on her as he opened his passenger door and, like a sack of potatoes without a mind or will of her own, picked her up by her waist and deposited her onto the front seat. When he tried to close the door, still not having said a single word to her, she jammed her foot against the panel and pushed it back open. “Grey, what are you doing? I can’t leave.”
~*~*~*~*~
Grey paused and checked his innate need for control. He released a frustrated breath and stepped up to her, settling himself between her thighs as much as her long skirt would allow. Big mistake. The feel of her wrapped around him, her intoxicating scent and worried expression, along with the sheer terror that ran through his veins at what he’d seen in that envelope had his every sense on overdrive.
“Claira, baby, we need to get you home. The Sheriff will take care of your car.”