The Player Next Door: A Novel

by K. A. Tucker

  At least we can find common ground. “Your knucklehead kid is actually smart. And polite.” Cody raises his hand, he participates, and he finishes his work on time. But what was more impressive is that I heard him tell some of the poorly behaved boys who were teasing the girls to cut it out. It stunned me to see that his bully of a mother could raise her son to have basic manners and respect—but perhaps that’s his father’s influence. “He’s impressed me, more than once.”

  “Well, that says something. Scarlet Reed is not an easy one to impress.” Shane’s lips curls into a playful smile. “I should know. I keep failing miserably at it.”

  Is that what he’s been trying to do? Impress me? “Maybe you need to try harder,” I answer, matching his light tone.

  He grins. “I think I need more guidance. Some one-on-one tutoring, if you’re available?”

  What is going on here? The dynamic between us seems to have shifted again, back to flirtatious. This is not keeping it uncomplicated.

  “How was your date?” I ask evenly. Has he forgotten already?

  He bows his head, his lips pressed in a tight smile that makes my stomach clench. I regret asking. “You really want to know?”

  I shrug nonchalantly, though my voice is strained when I say, “Probably not.”

  He peers up at me, lingering for a moment as if assessing how he should answer. “Shitty, actually.”

  I snort. “Right. A four-hour date because it was shitty.” And now you’ve made it clear you were watching the clock for him. My cheeks flame. This conversation needs to end immediately. “I should finish getting ready for this orientation …” My voice trails as Shane moves swiftly for my classroom door, pushing it closed. He makes his way back to my desk and perches on the corner closest to me.

  He simply stares at me. He’s waiting for me to ask.

  It takes me a few breaths to calm myself before I play along. “And why was it a shitty date, Shane?” I ask with an exaggerated curious tone, though I find myself holding my breath for his answer.

  “Because I didn’t want to be there. I guess I shouldn’t say it was shitty. That’s not fair to her. It was boring. I was bored.”

  Dean called that one. It didn’t take nearly as long as I’d expected. A strange thrill stirs inside me. “What happened? She didn’t want to put out for Mr. July?”

  He laughs, his gaze searching the ceiling tiles, giving me a chance to admire the sharp jut of his throat. “No, she was more than willing. I’m the one who wasn’t interested. I knew I never should have said yes.” He shakes his head, more to himself. “I regretted it the second I sat down.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s …” My voice trails. I don’t know what to say.

  “I didn’t kiss her at the end of the night.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “I know, but I’m telling you anyway.”

  A rash of nervous flutters churns in my belly. “Why didn’t you?”

  He studies me. “Because I told her I was hung up on another woman, and I need to give that time to see where it could lead.”

  “Oh,” I manage, swallowing hard. I’m assuming he means me, and he’s being far more candid and straightforward than he’s been up until now.

  “Yeah.” His eyes land on my mouth where they remain for several beats before lifting again. “Even if it means sitting in my house, jerking off while I wait for her to trust me. I didn’t mention that last part to Susie, though,” he says with a crooked smile.

  Blood pounds in my ears. Why is Shane telling me this now? Here, twenty-five minutes before my presentation begins? Part of me wants to rope my hands around his thick neck and choke him.

  But a bigger part wants to kiss him.

  I clear my throat before I trust my voice won’t shake. “I should go and open the door. Parents will be arriving soon. They’ll want to talk.” I stumble over my words as I take a step back from him. I can’t do this—whatever this is—with Shane right now.

  “Well … I’m a parent,” he says, folding his arms over his chest again. God, he looks good tonight. “Maybe I want to talk.”

  I let out a nervous laugh as heat creeps up my neck. “Something tells me you’re not here to talk about what Cody’s going to learn in school.”

  “That’s not true!” he exclaims in a mock-appalled voice.

  I decide to humor him. “Okay, fine. What would you like to talk about, Mr. Beckett?”

  He frowns at the board. “I’m very concerned about the sex education curriculum for my impressionable son.”

  “Uh-huh.” I smother my smile. “And what exactly are you concerned about?”

  “You know … I just …” He bites his bottom lip as he no doubt searches for bullshit to throw at me. The simple move is so sexy. “I remember when Ms. Dixon used those extra-large bananas to demonstrate how to roll on a condom. Do you remember that?”

  I laugh. “She tore three of them before she managed to get one on properly.” Dipshit offered to put it on for her. As if his scrawny ass had ever so much as touched a condom back then.

  “Those bananas gave a lot of guys in the class a complex for years. You know, about their size.”

  I drop my voice, wary of it carrying through the closed door. “Really? Because you didn’t act like you were struggling with confidence in high school.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches, but he manages to keep a straight face otherwise. “Just saying, you don’t want to be crushing these little men’s spirits. They have enough to deal with. You know, with the pressures of social media and all that.”

  “Got it. I’ll be sure to pick up extra-small bananas for that day. The smallest they sell. Will that appease your concerns about their precious male egos?”

  “Definitely.” His forehead creases. “And are you going to be demonstrating this? Because I think I need to attend this class—”

  “Okay, we’re done now. I’m sure I have mature parents waiting for me outside,” I scold, but I can’t help the smile. It feels good to be joking around—and flirting—with Shane again.

  “Fine.” He heaves himself off the desk to loom over me, a hint of his spicy cologne teasing my nostrils, a devilish glint in his eye. “I’ll just ask the rest of my questions during the session.”

  Oh God. All semblance of calm evaporates. “Don’t you dare!” Shane loved to tease me mercilessly when we were younger. Granted, it usually involved pinning me down to tickle me, which turned into a heavy make-out session.

  “What do you mean?” he asks with faux innocence.

  “Don’t, Shane,” I warn in as serious a tone as I can muster. Even the thought of standing up in front of my students’ parents and fielding sex-ed questions from him makes me queasy. He wouldn’t be embarrassed to ask, either. The guy poses half-naked in calendars and struts his stuff on stage, for fuck’s sake.

  “What? I can’t even mention the bananas?”

  I burst out with laughter. “No!”

  His face splits into a wide grin. “I love getting a rise out of you.”

  “You’re worse than Justine.” On impulse, I reach out to give his chest a playful shove.

  He catches my hand on contact, holding it against his hard body for a few beats—letting me feel his heat beneath my palm and the strength within his fingers—before releasing it.

  I pull away, instantly missing the contact.

  “That one doesn’t have a filter, does she?”

  “Justine? No, she doesn’t. And please don’t, Shane. This is my first curriculum night. I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of parents.” Especially in front of Penelope.

  “Fine.” He sighs heavily, as if he’s being put out. “Tell you what, I won’t ask those questions, if you’ll forgive me for not being smart enough to turn down dinner with Susie in the first place.” The sincerity in his expression threatens to weaken my knees.

  “You’re forgiven.” The truth is, I think I forgave him the second he confessed to not kissing her. Also, I was angling to
sleep with his best friend last Friday. On the list of stupid moves, my name comes up at least once.

  “And agree to dinner with me.”

  That request catches me off guard. Is this why Shane came so early? To trap me and then ask me out when I’m nervous and not thinking straight? Clever man.

  “Just dinner.” He holds his hands in the air in a sign of surrender. “That’s all. Just one dinner. Just give me one chance. A real chance.”

  Nerves stir in my stomach. This is what I wished for last night, a paint roller in hand, full of regret over how hard I’d held on to our ugly past. “When?”

  “Whenever. I’ve got Cody this weekend, but we’ll figure it out.” He waits expectantly for my answer.

  “And what if I say no?” I ask on a whim, swallowing the urge to blurt out yes as I try to maintain some semblance of calm that Shane’s presence always challenges.

  “Then get ready for all kinds of questions about penis sizes, G-spots, female orgasms—”

  “Fine! Oh my God. Stop!” I struggle to smother my beaming smile so I don’t look too eager. “Dinner. Whenever. But just dinner.”

  “I don’t believe it!” His shoulders sag with his deep exhale. “After all these years, Scarlet Reed has finally forgiven me.”

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t go that far,” I say wryly. “I’m just giving you a pass on your latest bonehead move.”

  He steps into my personal space. “What’s it going to take for me to get blanket forgiveness for all past sins?” I hold my breath as he reaches for a strand of my hair, toying with it between his fingers. “Because the way you kissed me last Friday night made me think we were good.”

  I struggle to ignore the electric current coursing through my body. “You’ll have to work a lot harder than that.”

  “Well, you know me.” He leans in slightly, almost as if testing the waters for a kiss. “I’ve always loved a challenge.” The words graze my lips and my mouth parts of its own accord, anticipating his.

  The orientation session.

  Dammit.

  “We can’t do this right now,” I whisper in a pleading, almost hysterical tone. I have a herd of parents about to descend upon me.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” His fingers release the strand of hair. Ever so gently, he fixes the collar of my blouse. “Later?” When his warm eyes lift to meet mine again, they’re full of heat and promise.

  “Uh-huh,” I mumble absently, caught in the flecks of gold in his irises. Just dinner, my ass. How the hell am I going to get through this presentation? I’m about to ask Shane to leave, to not attend his son’s session, when a glint of movement catches the corner of my eye. “I should go open the—” My words cut off in a croak.

  Penelope Rhodes is staring at me through the door’s window.

  I take a quick step away from Shane as she dissects me through squinted eyes. I see the glaze of familiarity. She’s trying to place me and yet she can’t quite.

  And then, there it is. The realization.

  Her sage green eyes dart to Shane—the father of her child—and narrow.

  Shane mutters something unintelligible under his breath.

  There’s really no avoiding this. I take a deep breath and force a wide, fake smile as I stroll over to open the door. “Hi, Penelope. Good to see you again.” I hope that doesn’t sound as fake out loud as it does in my head.

  She does a quick head-to-toe scan before returning to my face. “When Cody told me your name, I didn’t make the connection.” Her voice is as crisp and haughty as I remember, though aged. She turns to Shane. “You’re here early. You’re usually late.”

  “Didn’t want to have to stand for an hour again,” he says casually, his attention shifting to the man standing behind Penelope. “Hey.”

  The guy looks up to nod at Shane once before returning to whatever’s so enthralling on his phone screen, blindly trailing Penelope as she strolls in. This must be Travis. He’s tall, built, and classically handsome, and well-dressed in black pants and a blue mint button-down shirt. An ensemble fit for an office job in Philadelphia or a Phi Gamma Delta alumni brochure—he’s giving off major frat-boy vibes.

  Penelope looks especially nice in a navy dress and heels, her long, red hair silky and straight, her makeup perfectly applied and clearly touched up before coming here tonight.

  “Well … isn’t this fun?” she murmurs, sizing up my classroom.

  “As fun as a colonoscopy,” Shane whispers for only me to hear.

  I stifle my laugh. The truth is, nobody in this room looks like they’re having any fun.

  Penelope slips her hand into the man’s pants pocket, giving it a little tug as if to gain his attention.

  His eyebrows arch and then, clueing in, he slips his phone into his pocket, murmuring an apology.

  “This is Travis. He and I live together, and he’s very involved in Cody’s life,” she introduces. “This is Sharon Reed.”

  “Scarlet.” Such a timeless but unimaginative bitch move on her part. And pathetic. She spent six years trying to ruin my life. She knows my name.

  “Right.” She lets out a soft fake laugh. “Sorry, it’s just been so long.”

  Travis frowns curiously. “You guys know each other?”

  “We went to the same high school.” She brushes a stray strand of short, sable-blond hair off his forehead before smoothing her hand down his arm affectionately. “And now she lives beside Cody’s father.”

  Cody’s father. It’s as if Shane isn’t right here. Or perhaps it’s to remind me that she and Shane have a son together. As if I could forget.

  “No shit. Small world,” Travis murmurs, fussing with the chunky silver watch that adorns his wrist. Did he come to the school orientation night willingly? Or did Penelope force him to come?

  “Yeah. I just moved in a few weeks ago. I had no idea Shane was living there when I bought the house.”

  Penelope gives me a doubtful “I’m sure you didn’t” smile. “It’s that tiny old blue house, right?” Her perfect button nose wrinkles with distaste.

  I force a wide smile. “Yup. It’s definitely a fixer-upper, but I love it. I’ve enjoyed working on it.”

  “Ugh. Thank God we could afford contractors for that reno we just finished, right, babe? Can’t believe how much we spent, but our main floor is stunning.”

  “Fucking mess that was. Oops.” Travis cringes. “Guess I shouldn’t swear in front of the teacher.”

  Shane snorts. “Don’t worry. I can’t believe the stuff that comes out of this one’s mouth sometimes.”

  “Only when it’s directed at you,” I throw back.

  “I usually deserve it, too, don’t I?” Shane grins slyly, like we have a secret between us, and I find myself grinning back like a fool.

  “Oh my God!” Penelope snaps her fingers. “That’s right! Shane, didn’t she have that massive crush on you all through senior year while we were together? Like, she was so obsessed with you—”

  “Give it a rest, Pen,” Shane warns, before offering me an apologetic glance.

  My face burns. I could bring up many things about high school—namely, what a condescending, mean-spirited jerk Penelope was—but what good would it do? She is who she is and doesn’t appear to have changed, despite age and motherhood. I’m Cody’s teacher, and I must maintain some semblance of professionalism. I settle on, “We were all young and dumb once, right?” Young and dumb and in love.

  “Some of us dumber than others,” Shane agrees. “I know I made some bad, wrong calls back then.”

  “Yes, you did.” I smile sweetly. You were an idiot to leave me for her.

  “I’m doing my best to fix one of them.” He watches me intently, as if trying to convey unspoken words through a look.

  I take a slow, calming breath. Shane is nothing if not determined. “And maybe you can.”

  He smiles, and I get caught in those deep dimples, thinking of where we just left things off and where they might—hopefully—head later. Jus
t dinner, my ass.

  Penelope clears her throat sharply, breaking our private moment. Her glossy lips pucker with annoyance as her attention shifts to the whiteboard. “I’m sure you’ve figured out by now how intelligent my son is.”

  My son.

  Dear God, help me.

  I catch Shane’s eye roll as I force a polite smile. “I was just saying to Shane before you got here that Cody is one of my brightest students.”

  “Is that what you two were talking about?” She throws a cutting look his way, but then continues. “What are you going to do to challenge him this year?”

  I can already see what Becca means about Penelope being that kind of parent. She’s going to be a giant, prickly pain in my ass. “I’ll be going through the sixth grade curriculum when the session starts. I’m sure you’ll find it to be robust.” I’m not about to give her a private walk-through. She can wait.

  She sniffs. “We weren’t thrilled with last year’s teacher.”

  Last year, Becca was Cody’s teacher.

  “I was fine with her.” Shane studies his fingernails as if bored with the conversation.

  “You would be,” Penelope snipes back.

  What is the dynamic between them now? Is this what Shane means by “civil”? This doesn’t seem civil. It’s certainly a far cry from the brief exchange I witnessed between them on his front porch.

  A couple pokes their heads in then, rescuing me. “If you’ll excuse me …” I head over to greet the parents—of Jenny Byrd, I find out through quick introductions. Another star in my class. I really do need to use the restroom before the presentation begins, though, so I take this opportunity to duck out, pausing just long enough to steal a glance over my shoulder.

  Penelope has abandoned Travis, and she and Shane are now in the far corner of my classroom. Her lips are moving fast, her tone hushed, her face tight.