Tank looked at her across the hood of his vehicle. “Of course, I am.”
“Oh,” she ground out, rolling her eyes.
“You want a ride, or not?”
Becky pulled the door open without answering. She dropped her bag on the seat and climbed in after it. “How long is this going to take?”
“Long time,” he replied cheerfully.
Becky sighed and looked out the window, staring longingly at her vehicle. “Maybe you could just pretend to fix my car for a few minutes?”
“No, thanks.”
She tossed him a decidedly ungrateful look. He shifted the Jeep into gear and backed out of the parking space. “Buck up, sweetheart. This wasn’t my idea.”
She looked ready to snap back and then sighed again. “I know. I’m sorry I involved you.”
That was surprising. She was probably not so much sorry for inconveniencing him as she was sorry that she had to ride with him. Still, she apologized.
Tank didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t.
After a few minutes, he asked, “Who’s Bernie?”
“Physics teacher.”
“Seems attentive.”
“He is. He stops by after class, whenever I’m in that room, which is every other day.” She pulled her coat closer around herself and shivered.
“You cold?” he asked, turning up the heat.
“I’m fine, just irritated.”
“Why don’t you tell him you’re not interested?”
He caught the end of an eye-roll when he glanced over at her. “It’s not that easy.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t have the tools I used to have to deal with guys like that.”
Becky’s tools. Interesting thought. “What tools?”
“I’m accustomed to being very direct,” she replied, a hint of challenge in her voice.
Tank’s mouth quirked. That was not news to him.
“But I feel like ... this is Maddy’s town,” she continued, “her territory, and I want to be careful that I don’t do or say something stupid that will reflect on her.”
Tank considered this rather vulnerable statement. He nodded.
“Anyway, I keep saying no to coffee or whatever he suggests, and he just keeps coming back.”
After a moment, Tank decided to open up a little, himself. “I’m dealing with the same kind of thing.”
“Really? Who’s after you?” Becky seemed to perk up at this turn in the conversation.
“P.E. teacher.”
“Which one?”
He could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she considered the two women who taught in the P.E. department.
He shrugged. “They’re both very friendly.”
She waited for him to give details, then prodded for more. “So, what, do they ask you out? Hang out by your locker room?”
She was way too interested. He regretted bringing it up. “Let’s just say a woman has a way of making her interest evident.”
Tank turned into the lot of the hardware store and pulled to a stop. Before he put the Jeep in park, Becky had opened the door and hopped out. Tank followed, contemplating how to stretch his quick errand into an irritatingly long field trip. Becky would think twice the next time she wanted him to rescue her.
***
Becky wandered around the hardware store for a few minutes before finding Tank again. He was crouched by a bin of screws.
“You almost done?”
He looked up, not really seeing her as he did some mental calculation. “Almost.”
She considered the dozens of bins of different sized screws. She couldn’t imagine anything more boring.
“But I need to go check out the drain pipes after this.”
Becky rolled her eyes.
Tank looked past her to the end of the aisle. “Your friend’s here.”
She didn’t even look. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” The monster grinned.
“Well, I’d pretty much rather be hanging with him at this point, anyway.”
“Knock yourself out.”
Becky looked down at him - a rare opportunity - and considered all of that weight balanced on the toes of his boots. She was tempted to give him a little kick to see if she could topple him over. He’d probably dent the floor where he landed.
She turned on her heel and left the aisle, peeking around the corner and then heading in the opposite direction of the physics teacher. She wandered through the snow shovels and bags of salt. Winter. She was sick of it already, and it had just begun.
“Ms. Jacobs?”
Becky spun around to see one of the math teachers approaching. Had they called a faculty meeting?
“Hi,” she mustered a smile. “Please call me Becky.”
“Hi, Becky. I’m Laura - Algebra teacher? We met a few weeks ago.”
“Of course. How are you?”
“Good, thanks. Picking up some salt for my driveway.”
Becky nodded; she certainly wasn’t going to say what she was doing at the hardware store.
Laura’s eyes lifted and widened. “The new P.E. teacher’s here,” she whispered.
“Oh, really.” Becky turned and tried to make eye contact with Tank to keep him from approaching. He was engrossed with his phone, and didn’t look up until he was a few feet away. He stopped and looked from one to the other of them and said nothing.
Becky sighed. “Mr. Kimball, have you met Ms. Callahan?”
He extended a hand. “Good to meet you.”
Laura blushed. “You too. Welcome to Clairmont.”
He nodded. “You all set?” he asked Becky, as though she’d been the one to keep him waiting.
Laura looked from one to the other. “You’re together?”
“Oh no, Mr. Kimball is just giving me a ride home,” Becky quickly explained.
Laura gave her a long look. “Oh, of course.”
“Okay, well, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Becky replied, hustling to catch up with Tank, and leaving Laura to make what she would of the encounter.
***
She’d brooded the whole way home, but by the time Tank pulled into her driveway, Becky was fuming.
“I hate it when people treat us like they know something we don’t know,” she vented as they walked into the house. “They keep giving us that look, like, ‘oh what a cute couple.’ Have you noticed that?”
Tank shrugged as he set the bags down on the kitchen counter. “They’re being stupid.”
“Exactly,” Becky agreed. “No one gets that I’m done with men forever. And you - you don’t even like people.”
He gave her a side-long glance.
“Every time we leave our classroom,” Becky continued, ignoring him, “we get that speculative look from students and the other teachers. I don’t know why they assume we’re together.”
“Gives them something to talk about.”
“Well, we should give them a real scandal and shut them up.”
Tank walked to the fridge and helped himself to a bottle of water. “Suggestions?”
Becky pulled off her jacket and gloves. “Well, the most expedient thing would be to start dating and then break up. Then they’d have to give it a rest.”
“Long as I do the breaking up.”
“Please. No one has ever broken up with me. Why would they?” She offered her devastating smile.
Tank glanced at her and shook his head. “Who would be dumb enough to sign on in the first place?”
“Really, Mr. Kimball, you positively ooze charm,” she simpered. “There’s no way I’d ever convince Maddy I’ve fallen for you,” she added flatly. “She’d never buy it.”
“If I ever decided to do this,” he said, walking over to the window and looking out at the water, “there would be no doubt.”
“Oh really? You’re that good of an actor?”
Tank casually pivoted and looked at her. “Yes.”
Becky eyed him warily. “What could you possibly do to make
yourself likable?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and then stretched; she could imagine every muscle in his body rippling and settling slowly back into place. While she enjoyed her imagination’s little journey, she remained purposefully blank as Tank walked over to where she perched on the bar stool.
She absolutely refused to get all flustered just because the big football player was standing within touching distance. She sucked in a breath and held it when he settled his hands on the counter on either side of her and moved in very close. Though she would have sworn that he never wore aftershave, she smelled something interesting that made her want to lean in just a bit and nuzzle his jaw.
She didn’t, of course.
He stayed perfectly still, and Becky slowly started to unravel. He was close enough that the little brown flecks in his green eyes, previously undetected, were now evident. Any effort at speech would come out like a bleating lamb so she held her tongue and waited.
Tank’s eyes drifted over her face and back to her eyes. “I like your eyes, Becky.”
She nodded, sure they were as wide as saucers, not only because of the unexpected compliment, but because he’d used her name. She’d never heard him call her anything but Ms. Jacobs, maybe the innkeeper’s sister - usually nothing at all.
With that, he slowly withdrew and walked out of the kitchen and out of the house.
She watched the door, dumbfounded.
Several moments later, she remembered to breathe.
seventeen
“I’ll bet she does. She has that look.”
“Well, I’d like to find out.”
The guys sitting around the table laughed.
“Yeah, well, let me know,” chimed in another.
Tank pulled his lunch from the refrigerator and tried not to listen to their conversation. He rarely ate in the teachers’ lounge; this was one of the reasons.
“Maybe I can dig up some of my high school French. I remember a few key phrases.”
Another laugh. “Not the kind of stuff she’s teaching.”
“Yeah, well, what she’s teaching in the classroom is not what I’m interested in communicating.”
Their laughs were interrupted by the thunk! of Tank’s thermos on the table.
“Who’s the lucky teacher today?”
“Same one as last week.”
“And the week before.”
He stared at them.
“Jacobs. Teaches French. Came just before you did.”
Tank’s jaw clenched. No surprise there.
“You know her?” another at the table asked.
Tank eyed the group, and the chatter stopped. “Yeah.”
“So? What do you know?” one of the more vocal men asked. He taught some sort of sociology class, if Tank remembered correctly. He didn’t remember having a particularly good impression of the guy.
“She’s a nice, decent woman.”
There was a ripple of quiet laughter.
“Decent, huh? In what way?” the same guy snickered.
“You’re not likely to find out, are you?” Tank asked, itching to make his point more obvious, ideally with his fist.
His target narrowed his eyes, but hesitated only briefly before saying, “She’s only decent with football players?”
Tank planted both hands on the table and leaned in. “We’re going out. If you need a filter for that mouth of yours, I’d be glad to arrange it.”
The amped up tension in the room didn’t bother Tank a bit. He thrived on amped up tension. He looked around at the faces staring back at him. He didn’t like how these guys talked about women, especially their own co-workers. It served them right to have their little discussion shut down. He’d deal with the repercussions later.
“Hey Kimball, did I hear you say you were dating Becky Jacobs?”
His blood still boiling, Tank turned to a new voice in the room. Ed Davidson, the shop teacher and Frank’s father, had walked in and apparently heard ‘the news.’ Their paths hadn’t crossed much in the few weeks that Tank had been at the school, but Ed had made a point to introduce himself early on. Tank liked him immediately; he was a comically similar, older version of Frank. Under the circumstances, he was about the last person Tank wanted to see.
“We’ve just gone out a few times. Nothing official.” His head reeled. He didn’t want this thing getting any bigger.
“That’s great!” Ed boomed. “My wife will be thrilled. You know she has a few of Becky’s paintings? Don’t know why she’s not teaching art here.”
Tank left the table and joined Ed near the door, hoping to give his friend incentive to lower his voice.
“She’s a great painter,” Tank agreed, marveling at how easily he could bend his opinion to suit his purposes. He hadn’t been particularly fond of the seascapes she’d painted, but he’d talk about her art all day if it kept the discussion away from her new relationship status.
“Yeah, I need to talk to her about a portrait of Emily’s horse.” Ed scratched his head. “Do you call it a portrait if you’re painting a horse?”
“Not really sure.” Tank clapped him on the back. “Listen, I have to run.” He could hear the guys picking up their conversation at the table behind him. At least that hadn’t escalated any further. He really needed to watch his temper.
“Oh, there she is. I’ll ask her.”
Tank swung his head, following Ed’s gaze with dismay. Sure enough, Becky was not only in the cafeteria, she was headed straight for the teacher’s lounge. His gut clenched as she returned Davidson’s greeting with a typical Becky smile. Her expression changed slightly when she saw him.
“Just the girl I wanted to see!” Davidson said cheerily as she entered the lounge.
Tank noted that all conversation ceased as the other men in the room stopped to stare at Becky. Animals.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked, seeming to take in the room and the attention focused on her without losing her cool.
She’s probably used to it, Tank thought, though she had no idea what was about to hit her. He could hardly hope that Davidson wouldn’t bring it up. He moved into a better position to make eye contact. She was sharp. Maybe she’d pick up on it and play along.
“Well, Emily’s looking to have you do a portrait, or whatever you artists call it, of her horse. I thought I’d see if you could get it done by her birthday - middle of March.”
“Sure. If you have any photos that I could use for reference, that would help,” Becky replied, her attention torn between him and Tank. She seemed to sense that Tank was moving in for a reason.
“Ah, that’s great. She’ll be thrilled.” Ed smiled and looked at the two of them.
Tank knew what was coming and boldly took a hold of Becky’s hand. Hopefully, she’d make the connection with the offer he was about to make. “So, you up for another trip to the hardware store today?”
She looked up in surprise, her eyes searching his, something neither of them often allowed. He held his ground and tried not to focus on the almost gold ring in the center of hers.
“That’s my idea of a date,” Davidson grinned. “So, how long have you two been going out?”
***
All she wanted was the cake for the baby shower. Becky never went into the teachers’ lounge otherwise, and it was clear why. It was usually male-dominated, and right now, half a dozen men awaited her response to the last question she’d ever expected to be asked.
She didn’t think Tank had taken her seriously when she joked about pretending to date. Apparently, putting on this little show was now useful to him. She tried to make sense of it while deciding whether or not to play along. He’d better have a good explanation.
“How long have we been going out,” she asked, her eyes finding Tank’s again. Her fingers twitched as he gripped her hand.
Tank cleared his throat. “Couple of weeks, anyway.”
He continued to look at her earnestly, and Becky could feel her face warming. A couple of weeks ag
o was the last time they’d spoken directly to each other, and he’d told her that he liked her eyes. Since then, they’d taught their class, talking to the students and avoiding each other like the plague. It was kind of like going out - junior high style.
Becky turned back to Ed. “Yep, couple of weeks.”
He grinned. “Well, that’s great. You both seem really happy.”
Becky could only nod at this very strange observation. “Okay, well, I just need to get a cake from the fridge.”
“And I have to head back to class.” Tank let go of her hand.
Becky was not about to let him leave before she did. She hesitated only briefly before tucking into his side, trying to make the contact look natural as she reached around his waist. She grabbed a fistful of shirt, grazing his rock-hard obliques in the process. She’d have a hard time pinching him if it became necessary.
“I’m heading your way,” she told him, all smiles.
It was his turn to look surprised, maybe because she suddenly needed to head to the athletic wing with her cake, or else because she’d made such bold bodily contact. They stood for a moment, aware that they had the attention of the entire room.
“So, let me grab that cake,” Becky said, disengaging.
Tank seemed to know better than to take off after what she’d just done. He watched her as she picked up the cake and walked out of the teachers’ lounge. Once outside the door, she left him and his buddies and headed back to her party. They had class together later; she’d be sure to get some answers then.
***
Becky watched from the back of the room as Tank walked in. She’d spent the last period puzzling over what his explanation might be, certain she felt nothing but curiosity as the time approached for their class to begin.
Seeing him walk through the door was another matter.
What if she were actually going out with him? She felt a strange and unexpected tingling down her spine. She sat up straighter, willing her body not to send stupid, faulty signals, and reminded herself that they were playing a game, a game he had yet to explain. She breathed in, willing away the ridiculous ‘what-ifs.’
Done With Men Forever (Clairmont Series Book 3) Page 14