Take a Chance

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  She leaned closer and whispered, “Maybe I’m not just asking you for a couple of kisses, Kurt.”

  He closed his eyes like he was trying to gather his composure. “See, darlin’, that’s the problem. I’m trying to do this right. And that means we ought to take things a little slow.”

  She almost groaned in frustration. “I’m not seventeen.”

  “I’m so glad about that. And, baby, we both know that I’m not either. And that is why I’ve got no problem waiting a little longer. I don’t want you waking up tomorrow and wondering if we made a mistake. And, well, I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and feel like I have to explain myself to my little brother.”

  That reminder jarred her away. “I guess I can understand that.”

  He brought his hand to her cheek. Cupped it lightly. “Are you sure? You okay with that?”

  Her nerves calmed down a little, reminding her that she hadn’t just been anticipating his kisses and his touch, she’d also been a little apprehensive about where things would go next.

  “Yes, I think I am.”

  He unbuckled his seatbelt, then leaned over and unbuckled hers. “Good to know. Come over here, then.”

  “Because …”

  “Because I may not be ready to get into your bed but I sure am ready to feel you against me. Will you let me do that, Em?” he whispered.

  What could she say to that?

  Then, it turned out that nothing needed to be said because she felt two warm hands curve around her waist and pull her into his arms. Not caring that the skirt of her dress was edging up her legs, she settled her body against his, instinctively curving herself against the harder planes of his.

  To her surprise, the position was more comfortable than it had been back when she was seventeen. She would have thought the opposite.

  Looping her arms around his neck, she pressed her lips to his throat. “Are we going to make out in your truck, Kurt?”

  “Nah. Just share a couple of kisses.” His lips brushed her cheek then trailed down her jaw and into her neck. Each one felt like a mark on her skin. Light, sweet touches that would be imprinted into her memory and tease her, making her ache for him again.

  After he raised his chin and their lips met, she ran her fingers through his hair as the kiss turned deeper.

  Minutes later, when he pulled away, she felt a little breathless. How could three or four kisses bring back those goosebumps? “We’re too old to be necking in the driveway.”

  “Baby, I know you’re real smart and all, but it’s becoming real obvious that you don’t know everything,” he said before brushing his lips against hers again.

  Another kiss led to more, which led to a moan when he pulled her close once more. When they finally broke apart and he came around to help her out of his vehicle, she felt flushed and languid and deliciously kissed.

  “I had a good time tonight, Emily,” he said as he took her keys from her and unlocked the door. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you, Kurt,” she whispered as he leaned down and gently kissed her one last time.

  Then he stood and watched while she walked inside. “Lock up, all right? I’ll call you soon.”

  “’Kay,” she replied, probably far too dreamily. After she watched him walk back to his truck and start the ignition, she turned and closed the door.

  When she was alone at last, she sighed. Kurt Holland was like no man she’d ever dated. He was handsome and caring. Forceful and yet considerate of her needs. He had a drawl, could kiss like a dream, and had a whole lot more patience than she did.

  And he wanted to take things slow because he wanted what was happening between them to last—and he wasn’t afraid to admit it.

  It had been a heck of a first date. She could hardly wait for the next.

  CHAPTER 17

  FROM LES LARKE’S

  TIPS FOR BEGINNING POKER PLAYERS:

  It’s better to make cheap mistakes than expensive ones. If you’re a novice, don’t go in too big or too fast. There will be plenty of opportunities to go further later.

  The call came at 6:05 the next morning.

  With a groan, Emily rolled over and attempted to ignore it. When her mother’s shrill ringtone sounded again, she glanced at the clock and put a pillow over her head.

  When it sounded a third time, followed by a text, Emily knew she had no choice but to answer it. “Hi, Mom. Guess you couldn’t wait until this afternoon to get on the phone?” Over the last few years, she’d instituted a “do not call before work” rule with her parents.

  They often forgot just how early her days began during the week, not realizing that if her students reported to school at ten after seven, she was usually running around like crazy before that.

  “You know I’ve been waiting all morning, just sitting around and watching the clock, Em. You aren’t going to make me wait all day, are you?”

  “Of course not.” Though she kind of wanted to.

  Stifling a yawn, she sat up in bed, thankful she’d put on her cute light blue cotton shorts and matching top to sleep in last night. She needed to feel like she was properly dressed to tackle the upcoming conversation.

  “So, it sounds as if you had quite a night, dear.”

  Her mother’s voice was laced with amusement. That was a good thing. The bad? That she’d called already armed with information. Now Emily was going to have to answer questions instead of being the one to dole out information. “I did,” she replied.

  “Come now. You’ve got to tell me more about all the commotion than that.”

  She sighed. “What have you heard? And more importantly, who told you?”

  “Well …”

  “Come on, Mom. Wait. Was it Brenden?” Because if it was, she couldn’t wait to give her brother a call and remind him about the time she’d hid the letter from college that said he’d been put on probation for disorderly conduct.

  “As a matter of fact, I did hear from Brenden, but he wasn’t the only person to let me know they saw you and your date out at Paxton’s last night.”

  “Do I even want to know who else called you?” For heaven’s sakes! She got home after 11:00 and it was just now 6:00 a.m.

  “Probably not.” For the first time her mother’s voice sounded contrite.

  Emily didn’t press further. All the drama was getting to be exhausting.

  Leaning her head back against her headboard, Emily closed her eyes. Her female students always complained about the high school rumor mill. She’d never had the nerve to let them know that women’s penchant for gossip didn’t disappear with age.

  Or that it wasn’t a strictly female trait, given that Brenden had already been on the phone.

  She cleared her throat. “Obviously you heard about Kurt and Mr. Condon.”

  “Well, I heard that Kurt Holland dramatically defended your honor. And that you defended his, too.”

  “The experience wasn’t quite that noteworthy,” Emily replied, though it actually kind of was. “One of my students’ parents was being difficult and Kurt reminded him not to take out his disappointments on me.”

  “He sounds like a keeper, honey. When are you going to bring him by so we can meet him?”

  “Not any time soon.” She wanted Kurt to want to go out with her again, not get scared and run away.

  “Really? That’s hardly fair. Brenden met him already.”

  “Brenden was interested in poker. And he and Samantha showed up at my place when Kurt was here.”

  “Oh.” Just as Emily released the breath she’d been holding, her mother perked up. “You know what? I think your father likes playing poker, too.”

  “Is that right? I never knew that,” she said as she slipped out of the covers and headed toward the kitchen. It turned out that it wasn’t enough that she was properly covered. She needed a strong caffeine in
jection, too.

  “When is the next game scheduled? Do you know?”

  “Nope.” She poured fresh water into the carafe, added fresh coffee into the filter, then pressed start.

  “Oh.”

  Though she knew better than to encourage her parents, Emily said, “Dad should probably ask Brenden about the next game. He’ll know.”

  “I’ll have him do that, honey. Of course, that means once Daddy meets Kurt only your sister and I won’t have met your boyfriend.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about that, Mom. Maybe I’ll bring Kurt over for lunch one Sunday.”

  “He could join us for church,” she said, sounding much more hopeful. “Does he go to church?”

  “I’m not sure.” She stared at the coffee pot, practically willing it to brew quicker.

  “You haven’t talked about your faith yet?”

  “Not yet, Mom.” Just as she was preparing herself to fend off another barrage of questions, her phone dinged, signaling an incoming text. “Oops. I’ve got to go.”

  “Okay. Let me know about next Sunday.” “Will do. Love you, Mom,” she said before reaching for her coffee cup. After taking two fortifying sips, she looked to see who’d texted. Maybe it was Kurt?

  Want to go for a run tonight

  It was Campbell. Not Kurt. She swallowed her disappointment.

  idk

  Come on. I heard about last night.

  Yep, that rumor mill was running like clockwork for women of all ages. Reaching for the carafe, she filled her cup again, then typed her response.

  Fine. I’ll meet you at the parking lot.

  She definitely did not want to go for a run or talk to Campbell about last night’s events. But a three-mile run equaled ice cream.

  And even though it was only a quarter past six in the morning, she knew it was going to be an ice cream kind of day.

  CHAPTER 18

  “Trust everyone, but always cut the cards.”

  —Benny Binion

  Sam had been at Bridgeport High for five weeks and he felt like he was drowning. He had too much work and had too many teachers assuming that his previous school had already covered most of what they were covering.

  It hadn’t.

  Within the first six or seven days at Bridgeport High, Sam had discovered that the curriculum back in Spartan hadn’t been as extensive. Actually, it was filled with enough gaps to make the gorge out by the New River feel like the Grand Canyon.

  The worst part of it was that he couldn’t tell Kurt. His brother had moved his whole life so he could get a full scholarship into a fancy college. More than once, Kurt’s eyes had gleamed with pride whenever he talked of Sam attending Stanford or Vanderbilt. In the past, it had always made Sam feel good, like he was worth something.

  But now? It made him feel like crap.

  What was Kurt going to say if he found out that Sam might even be making Bs in some of his classes? Making a slew of Bs on his report card wasn’t going to get him into one of those colleges.

  “Sam?” Miss Springer called out at the end of class. “Give me a minute, please.”

  That was Miss Springer’s way. She didn’t go out of her way to embarrass anyone in class. If she wanted something or had a concern, she’d ask the kid to stay late. And “ask” wasn’t really what she did either. She was as good at telling kids what to do as any other teacher in the school.

  While a couple of guys cast apologetic glances his way, Sam walked up to Miss Springer when the room had just about cleared out. She was sitting primly behind her desk.

  “Yes, ma’am?” he asked before remembering that no one pulled out the ma’ams here and that the female teachers didn’t even like hearing it all that much. Most just kept saying that it made them feel old.

  Feeling his cheeks heat, he looked down at her desk. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  She shook her head like it wasn’t even a thing. “Listen, I … well, I wanted to talk to you about that last vocabulary test.”

  “Yes?”

  She shuffled the papers around on her desk until she pulled out his. “Well, you made an eighty-eight.”

  “That’s a B.”

  “You’re right. It is.” Staring down at his paper, she ran a finger along his mistakes. “For a lot of kids, an eighty-eight would be something to be happy about.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off those slashes of red. “But not me?”

  After pushing the paper away, she looked him in the eye. “I know. You’re not perfect. It’s just that, well, even some of your right answers surprised me. The definitions of the words were correct, but they looked like they were memorized.”

  Now Sam was getting antsy and feeling more than a little defensive, too. What was wrong with getting the right answer? “I did memorize them. And if I got them correct, I don’t understand why that’s a bad thing.”

  The sides of her lips turned down. Almost like Miss Springer was disappointed that he wasn’t easily grasping what she was saying. “It’s just that I would’ve thought you would’ve had a better handle on the implied meaning of the words.” She paused. “Is it just me? Or am I right in getting the feeling that you are struggling with these vocabulary words?”

  The worry in her eyes made him take a deep breath and take his time answering. She wasn’t getting on his case. She wasn’t mad.

  She was just trying to figure it out.

  Kind of like what he’d been doing.

  “It’s not just you,” he said, feeling like a load had just fallen off his shoulders. “I feel like I’m playing a part in a school play and I don’t even understand how I got it in the first place.”

  “You have the highest standardized test scores in the class. Maybe even in the school, Sam. Then, there were your grades back in Spartan …”

  “I know. I made all As.”

  “That’s why this eighty-eight concerns me.” She studied him with her deep brown eyes that always made him think of the does in spring. “Is it me? Maybe you’re used to a different way of teaching?”

  She was giving him an out. She was that nice. No wonder Kurt was so interested in her. Leaning against one of the desks across from her, he knew he had to tell her the God’s honest truth. “It isn’t you. I don’t know why I scored so high on those tests, Miss Springer. I’m a good test-taker, I guess. But a lot of those words on your quizzes, I’ve never seen before.”

  “Have you been studying for them?”

  “Yeah. A lot.”

  She glanced at the phone on her desk. “I know you’re ready to get out of here, so I’ll let you go. But, um, regardless of what is going on with your brother and me, I wanted you to remember that I was your teacher first before I was your brother’s …”

  “Girlfriend.”

  She smiled. “Yes. Before I was Kurt’s girlfriend.”

  Ugh. He so did not want to be thinking about Miss Springer and his brother—not any more than he already had to.

  He backed up a step. “Well, okay.”

  “If you want, I could tutor you a little bit. Help you with some of that vocabulary. It will help you the rest of the year.”

  “Thanks. I’ll think about it.” As in he wasn’t going to do that.

  Her brown eyes flickered with something that looked a lot like disappointment. “All right, then. Thank you, Sam.”

  After giving her a head nod, he exited the room, hoping Kayla was still around. Remembering that she probably had cheer practice, he decided to walk to where they practiced, just in case she had a minute. Then he could see if she needed a ride home.

  Thinking about Kayla in those cheer shorts of hers. Looking forward to having her all to himself while he drove her home had its advantages, too. Already he felt better.

  “What’s the grin for, Holland?”

  He turned and felt h
is insides twist up. Garrett Condon was standing in front of him, acting like he had a new picture on his phone. “What’s it to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So …”

  Garrett glanced at his buddy Luke, who had just walked up but didn’t look like he wanted to be there at all. “Just wondered what else you were cooking up with Miss Springer. Or do you call her Emily?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m just hoping you get along with her since she’s so tight with your brother now—and that she’ll likely be out of a job soon.”

  Sam knew he should walk away. But there was no way he could, not when Garrett was bringing up his brother. “Why’s that?”

  “It’s against the rules for her to be dating students’ relatives. Plus my dad’s gonna file charges against your brother. And when that happens, the principal’s probably going to tell Miss Springer that she has to go, too.”

  Sam was feeling blindsided. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Garrett’s expression was all innocence. “You don’t know that your brother slugged my father at Paxton’s in front of everyone on Sunday night?”

  “No.” Though it was opening him up, he couldn’t resist getting more information. Looking over at Luke, he said, “What happened?”

  But before Luke could answer, Garrett spoke again. “You really don’t know? That wasn’t why you were in Emily’s room all cozy?”

  The kid’s voice was loud now. It sailed down the hallway, no doubt into the rooms of the faculty still at school.

  “I don’t know what your problem is with me but I think you’re acting like an asshole.”

  Garrett scowled. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Luke started looking uncomfortable. “We should drop it, Garrett.”

  “Why? So he can beat me up again?”

  “I didn’t beat you up,” Sam retorted. “Don’t make it into something it wasn’t. And it ain’t my fault that neither you or your father can get over the facts. You messed with my girlfriend and got what was coming to you. But instead of dealing with it, neither you nor your parents will let it go.”