Tangled: Emerson Falls, Book 1

by Harlow James

  I’m tired of feeling like a mistake, like I’m second best. Trevor chose someone else over me. And another one of my exes married the woman he dated right after me, which definitely dwindled my confidence and made me feel less than good enough.

  I may look confident and collected on the outside, but right now, I’m swimming in a sea of self-doubt.

  “Well, I’m gonna be honest here,” Perry chimes in. “It seems you do have some feelings about this. Was it just sex for you?”

  I glance away, focusing on the TV stand, where pictures of my family and friends are on display. The frame holding a picture of my parents at their thirtieth wedding anniversary catches my attention, the two of them gazing at each other like they were still teenagers in love—I want that. And I thought that having casual sex would help me move on from that longing, accept the fact that I’m starting over again at finding my person.

  I guess I was wrong.

  “I wanted it to be just sex, but you guys know me. I’m not wired that way.”

  “Well, was it because you liked him more than just for the physical? Or are you still nursing your broken heart?” Amy finally speaks up, and I hate her questions because I don’t know how to answer them.

  “I guess a little of both. I mean, the thing with Trevor sure has rattled me. I never thought I’d be that woman who was cheated on, which I think hurts my ego more than anything. But when I was with Kane the other night, we had more than just a physical connection. I think if the alcohol hadn’t been involved, we probably would have gotten to know each other a bit more. At least, I wanted to.”

  It’s the first time I’ve resigned myself to the fact that seeing him again made me even more curious about him. I know he was in the Army, and now I know he’s a teacher too. But there is definitely more to him, the pain in his eyes I saw clearly telling me there’s a story there.

  He’s sexy and charming—when he’s not acting like an ass—and the man definitely has moves on and off of the dance floor. I just wish the circumstances in which we met were different now, my mind reeling with the possibilities.

  “Okay. So don’t smack me until I’ve finished,” Clara says, scooting forward on her couch cushion. “But it’s clear to me that you felt more than just sex. And maybe the reason Kane is acting this way is because he felt the same way too. What if you actually tried to get to know him?”

  I shake my head at her before shooting her down. “I seriously doubt it. You should have seen the way he looked at me. Plus, we’re co-workers now. It could get even messier than it already is.”

  “Men act like assholes when they like you, right?” Amy asks, her lack of experience in dating makes her question things in our love lives quite a bit.

  “Yeah, in elementary school maybe,” Perry replies with a roll of her eyes. “Sometimes, yes that’s the case. But most of the time, men are just dicks to be dicks.”

  “True. But I saw the way he was looking at her Perry,” Clara speaks up, defending her position. “Sure, there was lust there. Hell, he probably would have mounted her right then and there if we hadn’t returned from the bathroom. But there was something else there too.”

  “Okay, before we all start sharing theories on whether Kane actually liked me more than for sex, can we focus back on the problem, please? I have to work with him. How do I make this less awkward?”

  “Well, I really see that there are only two options here,” Clara provides. “One, you try to be his friend, move past the uncomfortableness and tension. Or, you channel that sexual tension and have sex with him again.”

  Perry shakes her head, Amy laughs, and I stand, throwing my hands up in defeat.

  “You guys are useless. I need new friends,” I say while making my way back to the kitchen, taking the stuff out of the fridge for the pork tacos I made in my crock-pot.

  “Hey, we’re the best friends you could want, Liv,” the three of them follow me, Clara pulling me into her for a side hug.

  “I know. I just hate this. My entire life has been turned upside down, and the one spontaneous thing I do to let go and try to move forward comes back and bites me in the ass.”

  “Did he bite your ass? Oh, that’s hot,” she says, which makes me question how this woman can be taken so seriously in her job. She must put on one hell of filter when she’s wheeling and dealing.

  “No, he didn’t bite my ass. But, there may have been a spank or two,” I say with a glance over my shoulder and a Cheshire grin while I dig through the fridge.

  “Lord almighty,” Clara fans herself while Perry giggles and Amy’s jaw is dropped.

  We feast on tacos and a few more margaritas before they all call it a night, early wake-up calls for all of us pending in the morning.

  While snuggling into my bed that night, I think about what my friends said. Clearly, I’m not separating my feelings about the one-night-stand as well as I thought I could. But the question is: is that because I felt more with Kane? Or am I just an emotional mess right now about everything in my life?

  Succumbing to sleep, I remind myself that I don’t need to have answers right now. I just need to focus on my job, myself, and try to avoid getting involved with any of my other co-workers. Maybe I should just ask any man I meet at this point whether we work together before I pursue a conversation so there are no more surprises thrown my way.

  Chapter 14

  Kane

  It’s Friday and my guilt has been eating away at me for the way I treated Olivia the other day. Well, it’s more like Drew laying on the guilt, but I guess it’s finally hit me. To make matters worse, Drew told his wife Tammy about our situation (why must married couples tell each other everything), so she’s been on my case too.

  When I was in the drive-thru for Starbucks this morning—my Friday morning treat—I decided that maybe a peace offering was necessary. Contrary to how surprising it was to see her here as my colleague, it’s not her fault that things between us played out this way. In fact, I can’t help but smile at the fact that I ended up seeing her again. I sure as hell know that once I left her place Friday night, I wished there would be a repeat. But now that she’s working with me, I know I can’t continue to punish her for the surprising twist to our encounter.

  I pull into the parking lot, shutting off the engine and grabbing my stuff, including the two venti coffees I purchased, hoping to deliver the sustenance before class starts. If she’s a creature of habit like I am, I know she’ll be in her classroom early like she was that first day.

  I stop by my room to drop off my lunch box and finish setting up my plans, then grab the coffee and head for her room. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t feel nervous for what I’m about to walk in to. Given our few interactions since Monday, I’m going to say she’s not a huge fan of mine right now, and I can’t really blame her. I was an ass, even though the woman gave it back to me. And I’m not going to lie and say that that side of her isn’t hot as hell, because it is. It’s the side I got in the bar that night—full of sass and fire, not afraid to speak her mind and stand up for herself.

  So now I hate the fact that I can’t stop wondering what other sides there are to her—the sides that aren’t full of pissed off energy directed at me. The woman I caught a glimpse of Friday night has held more of my mental attention than I care to admit over the past week, and the fact that I want to know more about her makes an uneasy feeling settle in my stomach.

  I don’t let myself care about women. I know, I know… that makes me sound like even more of an ass. But after what Natasha did to me, I couldn’t let myself care. I promised myself I would never let someone have that hold on me again. I gave her everything. I loved her and wanted to spend my life with her, and she threw me away.

  But then here comes Olivia in my life, the bold and beautiful redhead that mesmerized me and made me think with my dick for a night, and suddenly I can’t stop thinking about her. It scares the shit out of me. And especially since we work together, I know I can’t just shut her out. I
can’t act like the dick I usually am. She doesn’t deserve that because it’s not her fault that we’re in this mess.

  Hence, the peace offering. I don’t know of any mishap that can’t be smoothed over by a surprise Starbucks coffee.

  It’s still dark outside when I approach her classroom, the glow of the lights through the windows helps to light up the sidewalk as I stride along. The small rectangular window on her door gives me a sneak peek into her room, where I’m greeted with her back to me, those curves that drove me insane covered in dark denim and her body draped in an Emerson Falls grey and red staff t-shirt. Her long red hair is softly curled and falls down her back, which sways ever so slightly as she writes something on her whiteboard.

  The memory of her bent over in front of me from Friday night wakes up my conscience, instantly rushing blood to my crotch.

  Fuck. I can’t go in there with a semi. I close my eyes and think of my wrinkly old Grandma, butt-naked.

  Yup, that will do it.

  Fully flaccid again, I twist the handle of her door and step inside, glancing around the room. The space is so much brighter than it was when Mr. Kirk was here. She’s obviously spent time in the last week making her classroom look appealing and functional, full of bright colors and features in the room that help a classroom run efficiently. Only another teacher could appreciate her file folders on the wall for missing assignments, the baskets for collecting work, and the station full of staplers, three-hole punches, and hand sanitizer for students to use.

  “Hey, Theodore. Let me finish this really quickly and then I can help you with your Calculus,” Olivia shouts over her shoulder with her back to me, finishing up a graph that she’s drawing on the board.

  She’s obviously expecting a student right now, not me—but that just gives me the opportunity to surprise her a bit.

  “Nice curves,” I tease as she flips around so fast the marker flies out of her hand, her eyes wide when she takes me in.

  “What?” She looks at me like I’m crazy, but then her eyes narrow into those slits that she gave me that first night. There’s the fire again.

  “Are you serious right now? Are you actually hitting on me after the way you acted the other day?”

  I shake my head, grinning from ear to ear. “No, actually I was complimenting your graph. Even as a history buff, I can appreciate the curves on a polynomial function.”

  The disgust on her face quickly falls away, replaced with astonishment. “You know what a polynomial function is?”

  “Yup. Contrary to what you might think, I was actually quite the brilliant math student. But history just seemed like more fun to teach.”

  “I can’t argue with that. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I was thinking choosing to teach math. The pressure, the kids that come in lacking basic number sense, the tests and impossible standards to cover… I should have just taught P.E.”

  Her sarcasm makes me laugh, clutching my stomach a bit while I take her in some more. Then I remember the reason why I’m here.

  “Um, this is for you.” I offer her the coffee, reaching out to meet her hand while she takes it from me. Our fingers lightly brush against one another as she receives the cup, looking down at our connection, then back up at me. There’s no denying the spark we both feel. I remember vividly what it was like to be skin-on-skin with this woman.

  “Thanks?” She says as more of a question, clearly confused about my gift.

  I clear my throat before standing up tall so she takes me seriously. “I, uh, owe you an apology.”

  “Really?” She lifts an eyebrow at me while placing a hand on her hip.

  “Yeah. I was an ass the other day and I’m sorry.” I let out a long breath before continuing. “You didn’t deserve that. And leaving you with a jammed up copy machine is like the worse thing a teacher can do to another teacher.”

  She chuckles and then takes a sip of the coffee. “I expect you should know better than that. The rage that overcomes you when the copier isn’t working is a feeling only another teacher can understand.”

  “Yes, I know. So, again, I’m sorry. I figured some extra caffeine on a Friday should help smooth things over between us.”

  “It’s definitely helping. Although,” she turns and walks away from me towards her desk in the front corner of her classroom, picking up her own Venti Starbucks cup. “I always get myself Starbucks on Friday too… so I guess I’ll just be extra energized today.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry…”

  “No, don’t apologize, Kane. You didn’t know. But hey, I guess great minds think alike. I always treat myself to Starbucks on Fridays. The extra caffeine is necessary to get through the last day before the weekend.”

  “Exactly,” I agree while appreciating the small smile on her face.

  “Thank you… for this,” she gestures with her cup and then lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry I wasn’t very nice to you too. Seeing you here was the last thing I was expecting.” She directs her gaze away from me, showing me yet another side to her—remorse.

  “Psh… tell me about it. So, you were expecting Theodore this morning? Is that Theodore Scranton?” I ask, desperately wanting to change the subject and move on.

  “Yes. He’s such a nice boy. A little awkward, but borderline super-genius.”

  “Tell me about it. I have him in AP US History this year. The kid is like a human encyclopedia.”

  Olivia laughs and then walks back to her desk to set down her coffee. “Well, you should see his math work. It’s beautiful… well-organized, clearly explained, every step is shown… he’s a math teacher’s dream,” she beams, the sparkle in her eyes when she talks about a student is breath-taking.

  Breath-taking? Where the hell did that come from?

  One moment I’m enjoying actually having a conversation with this woman, and the next my throat feels like it’s about to close up when I find myself taken with her eyes.

  Her eyes? What the hell, Kane? When’s the last time you found yourself enamored with a woman’s eyes?

  Before I make myself look like a pussy, I turn on my heel and make my way back to her door.

  “Yeah, I can only imagine. Well, uh, I have to get back to my room. Still have a few things to get done, you know, before the bell rings. Enjoy the uh, coffee, and I’ll, uh, see ya around,” I say, attached with an uncoordinated wave.

  “Okay…” She drags out, clearly confused about how I’m acting right now. I was fine, perfectly content with offering an apology and making things less weird, and then I got caught up in her eyes and pussyfied thoughts started swirling around in my brain, which caused me to panic.

  Olivia is just a co-worker. A colleague. A woman that I had a one-night-stand with and nothing more. She can’t be anything more.

  I can’t want anything more.

  “Thanks again, Kane,” she calls out as I push open her door and speed walk back to my room, running my hand down my beard as I will my heart to stop racing.

  “Fuck,” I mumble when I reach my room, pacing across the floor while I breathe deeply and count to ten. I feel the panic attack coming on, which concerns me since I have to teach in a matter of minutes.

  It’s been months since I’ve felt my anxiety rear its ugly head, the pulsing in my veins making my brain fuzzy and the desire to pass out rings hard. Sweat breaks out on my forehead and my breathing is shallow, despite how hard I’m willing my body to take a deep inhale of oxygen. I hunch over in my chair at my desk, and hug my body tightly, knowing that the pressure will help calm me down quicker.

  Anxiety is just your response to a lack of control, Kane.

  You’re living in the future right now, instead of the present.

  Nothing is going to hurt you. Just take a deep breath and count down from ten.

  I hear my therapist’s voice in my head, telling me these statements over and over again, following her advice for dealing with the feeling of losing control over your own body. This isn’t my first panic attack, but it certain
ly is the first one I’ve had in months.

  When I got back from Afghanistan and Natasha ripped my heart out, I started experiencing waves of fear about the unknown of my life. I’ve always had a plan. I’ve always known what I wanted and felt in control about that.

  And then everything burned up in flames, and suddenly, I had no direction to follow. The only thing I knew for certain was teaching. I knew I was supposed to teach.

  But now even my job is being compromised by the sultry redhead that I slept with and now work with.

  Fuck my life.

  A few more deep breaths and I can feel my pulse returning to normal, the fuzziness leaving my head, the heightened temperature of my body slowly falling. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and glance in the mirror next to my desk that I keep there to check for food in my teeth or marker on my face throughout the day.

  Yes, I walked around with marker on my face one day for four hours before one of my students said anything to me. Hence, the mirror. I’m not a pre-Madonna, if that’s what you’re thinking.

  “Fuck,” I mumble to myself again before shooting off a text to my therapist, asking to see if she has an opening soon. It’s been months since I’ve felt the need to see her, but maybe a quick visit will help me process the sudden fear I felt when Olivia looked at me.

  One thing’s for certain: whether we’re mad at each other, fucking each other’s brains out, or attempting to remain civil—the woman is definitely having an effect on me.

  And I’m not sure that I like it.

  Chapter 15

  Olivia

  “So, he brought you coffee?” Clara asks as her and Perry follow me down the steps into the football stadium to take our seats. Amy couldn’t make it tonight since her husband wasn’t home from work yet.

  It’s the night of the rivalry game between Ashland High School and Emerson Falls High School, and since all of us went to Emerson and I now work there, I felt a deep-rooted obligation to attend.