A Year of Love

by Anthology

  I laugh. “Most likely.”

  Quick and efficiently, I drop the pasta into the colander to drain it and then mix it back in the sauce pan to bring it together. It smells of tomatoes and basil and oregano, and my stomach growls audibly in response.

  “I’ll get the plates, silverware, and hot sauce,” Katy offers, pulling the towel off her head and folding it precisely.

  “Hot sauce?” I question, scrunching up my eyebrows. “I’m sorry, but what?”

  “You don’t put hot sauce on your spaghetti?”

  “Uh, no.” A soft chuckle vibrates through my chest. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Man, you’re seriously missing out. Hot sauce goes on everything, and it does it beautifully.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything,” she emphasizes. “But hey, it’s okay if you have a less-sophisticated palate. I won’t judge.”

  “Is that your way of calling me a food Neanderthal, Ms. Dayton?”

  “Definitely not,” she disagrees. “If I were going to make a caveman-style reference to your personality, you’d know it in no uncertain terms.”

  “Good to hear.”

  She grabs the plates from the cabinet and a couple of forks from the drawer and takes them over to the table to set our spots. And a bottle of Frank’s Hot Sauce is placed right in the center, like it’s a floral centerpiece for a dinner.

  Apparently, Katy Dayton takes her love of hot sauce seriously.

  “I think we’re just about ready to eat,” I announce as I put the spaghetti into a dish and the garlic bread into a basket.

  And just as I follow in her footsteps toward the table, she smiles up at me from her seat. A brilliant, megawatt kind of smile that makes my heart do weird, flip-floppy things inside my chest.

  “This smells delicious,” she says as I scoop a helping of spaghetti onto her plate. “Thank you for doing this, Mack.”

  “It was my pleasure, Katy Cat.”

  “Ugh.” She groans, but then, a soft, almost-whisperlike giggle escapes her throat. “You gotta stop with that awful nickname.”

  I wink. “Never.”

  “Well…I guess that only leaves me with one choice,” she answers, and I quirk a questioning brow in her direction.

  “And what’s that?”

  “Come up with an equally awful nickname for you.” She winks at me. An adorable, slightly awkward wink of her right eye. “Tit for tat, ya know?”

  “I give you free rein to do your worst, Katy Cat,” I answer playfully and sit down in the chair across from hers.

  “Okay,” she responds, and a mischievous grin crests the corners of her mouth as she picks up her fork from the table. “Shall we dig in, Mack-N-Cheese?”

  “Mack-N-Cheese?” I bark out a laugh. “That’s your worst?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m just getting started, Big Mack.”

  And then, she giggles again. A real, girlish peal of laughter that leaves her pretty little lips like a song and urges a smile to damn near lift my cheeks to my ears.

  “So, are all my nicknames going to be food-based?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but it’s highly likely, Mack-aroon.”

  I can’t not laugh at the last one.

  Damn, Katy Dayton sure is something.

  Once you peel away her prim-and-proper and always-professional layers, her center is soft and gooey and fucking fun.

  * * *

  Katy twirls her fork on her empty plate, and I smile at the simplicity of her fidget. It took us an hour and a half and two microwave heat-ups to get through our plates between conversation, and I don’t know that I’ve ever had a more interesting night.

  Given the time to loosen up and get a different impression of me, Katy’s turned quite the corner. Her smiles come easily, and her laughter rings off in peals of chest-seizing melodies. I take a quick swig of the beer I picked up at the liquor store earlier and pause for her reaction to my explanation of my family dynamic.

  “Wait…so you’re only a few years older than me, but your parents could basically be my parents’ parents?”

  I laugh. “Well…if I followed that sentence correctly, then I think yes. They had me fifteen years after they had my sister. Unexpectedly.”

  “Wow.”

  “It was great, honestly. I never knew a time when I didn’t have someone interested in what I was doing. My family is supportive in a way that made me want to be supportive of other kids who maybe didn’t get such a lucky draw.”

  “The reason you became a teacher.”

  I nod. “What about you? What sent you down this path?”

  She shrugs. “I’ve always been driven to help people. To set them up for success. My parents had me at sixteen, and a lot of people turned their backs on them. They had a couple of teachers, though, who made it their mission to make sure the three of us had a chance. They tutored them for free to complete their GEDs and even helped set them up with first jobs that could accommodate a kid.”

  I smile. I can’t help it. Stories like Katy’s are the kind I live for. “That’s incredible.”

  She nods. “It was what they needed to make it. And they worked hard. I can’t thank my parents enough for the life they gave me. But out of the three of us, I’ve always been the old soul.”

  “And I’m the good-time guy,” I add with a teasing grin. “No wonder you can’t stand me.”

  “I never said I couldn’t stand you.”

  I chuckle. “You didn’t have to say it, Katy Cat.”

  “You’re just…”

  “What? Horrible?”

  “N-no. I…” she stammers for a moment and a guilty grin covers her mouth. “I was going to say you’re somewhat of a thorn in my side. But, hey. The more I think about it, it’s probably the school’s fault for putting our classrooms where they did.”

  “You don’t have to try to make me feel better.”

  “No, really,” she answers, and her voice rings out with raw honesty. “Most of my issues are noise-related, and well, I guess you are a music teacher. It’s never going to be quiet. I just wish you weren’t right next door. I mean, you have to understand that teaching things like geometry and calculus with a live concert echoing inside my classroom isn’t exactly easy.”

  Damn, I guess I never really thought about it like that.

  “Maybe I can petition the school board to start a foreign classroom exchange program,” I joke, making Katy laugh outright for possibly the first time ever. She’s beautiful always, but cackling like a hyena? Her infectious joy just about makes my heart stop.

  “Sounds like a plan,” she eventually says once she catches her breath. “I’ll apply for one in the east wing.”

  “Only problem then is that I wouldn’t see you every day.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  The truth is too close to the tip of my tongue to hold it back. Katy Dayton is, without a doubt, the bright spot of every one of my days.

  “And then I’d have to miss you.”

  Even when she’s stalking into my classroom, flashing the stink-eye and ready to read me the riot act over volume level, I’m still happy to see her.

  Fuck. I’m always happy to see her.

  Katy

  Setting my plate in the sink, I take a deep breath and try to get my head right.

  My body buzzes, and my stomach turns over on itself with an unexpected wave of emotions. Mack Houston would miss me if he didn’t see me?

  My brain reels as I try to make sense of the reality I’ve known for the last five years teaching at Savannah High School versus the experience of today. It’s been enjoyable—companionable, even. And Mack Houston has been a far bigger part of my day’s fun than I’d ever have imagined possible.

  Is he actually likable? Like, have I just been the crazy one all this time?

  The me who’s spent so many years teaching beside him thinks it’s impossible, but the me who’s stuffed full of homemade spaghetti and garlic bread, compliments of him, thinks different
ly.

  I turn from the sink and lean my hips into it, conscious of just how fast my head is spinning and the very real danger that I might not stay up without the assistance.

  “Well…thanks again for dinner. It was really delicious, and surprisingly enough, really nice not to have to cook for myself for once.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he replies, brushing my arm with his as he sets his dish in the sink on top of mine.

  “Do you want me to help with the dishes?” I ask in the name of being polite. The truth is, I’m pretty sure they’ll all end up broken if I try to handle them right now.

  “No way, Katy Cat. I’ve got it covered.”

  I nod, scooting away from the sink to put some space between us but carefully keeping the support of the counter. “And you’re really okay sleeping in the second bedroom?”

  “Oh yeah. I put a sheet up over the Kimmie Shrine, so I think I’ll be safe from nightmares.”

  “It’s…something…isn’t it?” I giggle, and his eyes go wide in amusement.

  “Oh yeah.”

  I shift my feet from side to side, chewing at my cheek and tucking my thumbs into my pockets. It’s awkward heading to bed with Mack Houston, of all people, in the house, but I’m just about on sensory overload for the day. My body feels like a live wire, zapping and surging with the conflict-waging war inside.

  I started the day thinking Mack Houston was a huge pain in my ass, but I’m now ending the day feeling like the world is topsy-turvy and I’ve been wrong about him the whole time.

  “I-I guess I’m going to head to bed, then.”

  Mack nods, smiles, and then jumps from his spot at the sink, holding up a finger. “Oh, wait! Just one thing I almost forgot.” He runs into the pantry mysteriously, and I can’t help but watch his ass as he goes. His casual shorts look a hell of a lot better on him than those awful khaki pants he wears to school every day.

  He digs around in there, I can tell by the sound, and when he pops back out, he’s holding out a bottle of wine—a very specific bottle of wine. As he emerges, he hoists it up to show it to me, and my heart trips over itself like a clumsy kid over their shoelace.

  “I ran out before, while you were cleaning up from the beach. I’m pretty sure it’s exactly the same one you had, but you should double-check it just to be sure. I’ll get another if it’s not right.”

  I blink and just stare down at the bottle in his hands. “You’re replacing my bottle of wine?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t have opened it if I’d known it was yours. This is only right.”

  Overcome by the entirely unexpected gesture of humility, I cross the room, press up onto my toes, and before I can’t stop myself or second-guess it, I put my lips to his cheek. His skin smells of salt and sea and cleanliness at the same time. It’s confusing, sure—but it’s also unbelievably arousing.

  Pulling away, I give my head a quick shake to clear it. “Thank you. I’ve been looking forward to this wine for a long time.”

  He smiles simply. “You’re welcome.”

  The space is charged, and I’m completely unable to remove myself from it fully. Mack’s eyes are a bright, grassy green, and I can’t look away from them while my whole body throbs.

  Goodness. This man. What is he doing to me?

  Everything. Fucking everything.

  His hypnotic eyes search mine, and my eyes flit down to his lips. They’re full and pink and look downright kissable. Like, if I pressed my mouth to his, I’d experience some kind of kiss euphoria that only fantasies are made of.

  My gaze locks on to his again, and I don’t know what is happening or why I can’t seem to pull myself away. But I feel like Mack is the metal and I’m the magnet, and the only thing I can do is step closer. Move closer. To him.

  And those lips. Those fucking lips of his. They are spurring a desire to feel them that I’m not sure I can handle. Or avoid.

  For once in my life, I just want to give in to what I’m feeling without overthinking or second-guessing.

  So do it. Kiss him.

  Before I know it, I’m standing up on my toes again, but this time, instead of his cheek, I push the flesh of my lips against his mouth. His sharp intake of air and his strong hands gripping my waist and pulling me closer to him are the only motivation my body needs to lose every last vestige of control.

  Sexual tension snaps and lightning of attraction strikes, and I swear to all that’s holy, the whole world explodes.

  I want Mack Houston. And I want him bad.

  This Isn’t The End…It’s Just The Beginning…

  Mack

  Katy’s legs wrap around my hips and her hands run the length of my jaw, and if it weren’t for the pounding, thrumming, war-drum–style heart in my chest, I might think I’m dead.

  Jesus Christ, she’s really kissing me. She’s kissing me and I’m kissing her, and her ass is in my hands right this very moment.

  She tastes like spaghetti and garlic bread in the most amazingly not off-putting way, and I have the sudden and irrational need to absorb her body with my own.

  Is this really happening? I need something to tell me this is really happening.

  Katy moans when I sweep my tongue across hers, and a jolt of arousal makes my dick come to life in my pants. She’s tiny, and with this rush of adrenaline, I feel like I could throw her right through the ceiling.

  I don’t want to, of course—in fact, I want to hold on to her as tightly as possible—but if I did, I could.

  “Mack,” Katy breathes, pulling her lips away from mine just long enough to let an anticipatory shiver run down the length of my spine. There’s a nervous air to her tone, and a shred of panic makes my fingertips dig into the flesh of her ass a little tighter.

  “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

  Katy smiles, leans forward to take my mouth with hers once more, and then pulls away gently. Her eyes swirl with a promise of a thrill, and I swear in this moment, I’ll never know a look as seductive as this one. “No, I don’t want to stop.”

  Thank God.

  “But you were going to say something… What is it?”

  “Just…take me to bed.”

  Okay, Mack, now is not the time to be an April fool. “I promise, Katy Cat, this is one thing you won’t have to ask for twice.”

  Carrying and kissing simultaneously, I head toward the back bedroom—the bedroom we were battling over just twelve hours ago—and gently lay her back in the center of the four-poster bed. She looks dainty and beautiful in the middle of the expansive space, and I can only think of one good thing that would make her fit better. Me.

  Climbing up quickly, I seal my mouth to hers again and groan in satisfaction when she lifts her hips up to meet mine, grinding to emphasize the contact. She licks her lips on a reflex, and because of our proximity, catches mine with the tip of her tongue.

  “Fuckkk,” I moan, digging a hand into her hair and taking her mouth deeply. She rolls me over to my back and peels her tank top over her head, revealing perfectly perky breasts in a transparent lace bra. In one exquisite motion, the bra’s gone too, and I have to take a deep breath to calm myself as she shifts herself on my already-hard cock temptingly.

  Sweet Jesus.

  Our movements become frantic as she paws ferociously at my shirt, and I quickly lean up to rid myself of the fabric with a curl of my abdominal muscles. It knocks her off-balance briefly, but she uses it as an opportunity to yank her pajama shorts off, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that this has to be divine intervention from a higher power.

  “Katy…y-you’re beautiful.”

  She blushes, tilting the apple of her cheek toward her shoulder in a brief display of shyness. It’s beautiful, just like everything she does, but I’ll be a monkey’s uncle before I let insecurity slip in and derail this beyond-perfect moment. I reach up and cup that side of her face with my hand, bringing her back toward me until our mouths meet once again.

  She pulls at the button of
my shorts, dislodging it easily enough so that I can reach down to my hips and shove. My hard dick pops free like a jack-in-the-box.

  Trust me, there’s absolutely no question whether or not I’m enjoying the moment.

  She shifts once more, swinging a leg astride me and giving me a glimpse of the promised land, and then takes my cock, places it at her opening, and slides down to seat herself. Stars dance behind my eyes, and I have to shake my head several times to stop myself from coming in a blazing glory of shock.

  Katy Dayton is on my dick. My dick is officially inside both my archnemesis and my crush, Katy Dayton.

  Angels sing and violins play, and my brain overworks itself into a frenzy trying to catch a single thought and hold on to it.

  It’s a valiant battle, one I’m not sure I’ll win, until a tiny flit of a realization slams into my frontal cortex and holds.

  I’ll always remember April Fools’ weekend as the moment my life shifted forever. And life in the classroom next door is about to be a whole lot more interesting.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear Readers, new and old,

  Hi! And welcome to the world of Max Monroe. As you may or may not know, keeping stories short isn’t exactly our forte. Ha-ha! As such, during the endeavor of preparing this story for this super-special and fun anthology, we kind of, sort of, accidentally fell in love with the characters and the possibilities and decided that we’re not done with them. We know, we know…that’s crazy, right? We thought so too, at first, and we tried to fight it valiantly. Alas, we couldn’t fight the call of the muse.

  Meaning? Sometime in the not-too-distant future, we’ll be turning this short-story baby into a full-grown book. That’s right. Mack and Katy will be back and bigger than ever. We can’t wait to share more of them with you.

  If you want to keep up with news, here’s how to do it:

  Sign up for our newsletter on our website: www.authormaxmonroe.com/newsletter!