Learning to Love

by Julie Evelyn Joyce

  Balloons were taped to the door of the PE office when he arrived to work the next morning, and a trail of streamers led to his desk where more balloons were bunched together, along with a stack of cards and a few gift bags.

  Will smiled at his two officemates, though he had a pretty good idea who’d gone to the most trouble over putting this all together. And she was currently removing his requested vanilla cake with chocolate icing from a grocery bag. “Thank you, guys,” he said. “This is really special.”

  Berg poked his head over to see the cake. “Looks good, Ledgey. I’m surprised you didn’t get them to put hearts on it, though, or hide a promise ring inside it.”

  His mentor had caught the two of them standing a little too closely in the office on Thursday morning, muttered something about having called it from day one, and then stomped back out again. He’d made several cracks about it since then.

  “Shut it, Berg,” Rebecca retorted.

  Will laughed at the two of them. “I’m gonna miss this.”

  “What?” Rebecca asked. “Berg being a blockhead?”

  Berg grabbed his keys and headed for the door. “This blockhead is going upstairs. When are we doing the cake?”

  “Lunchtime,” Rebecca answered.

  “Okay. Once you two finish batting your eyes at each other, come upstairs, bud,” he said to Will upon exiting.

  Will glanced at Rebecca. “I better go so he doesn’t give me a crappy evaluation.”

  “If he does, let me know. I’ll withhold the cake. No, I’ll throw it at his face, and you know my aim is pretty spot-on.”

  “Don’t do that.” Will drew closer to her. “It’s a waste of cake.” His fingers itched with the need to touch her. He ached to hold her, kiss her, be near her, and that pleasure-filled agony intensified as the countdown crept toward its conclusion.

  She didn’t shrink away from him or scold him for trapping her against her desk with his arms on either side of her. “Happy last day,” she whispered.

  “You make me happy every day,” he blurted, not even caring how sappy he sounded.

  A rosy blush tinged her cheeks. “You are so corny.”

  The warning bell rang, and he shook himself out of his stupor. “See you at lunch,” he said, holding her trapped just a little bit longer. Her forceful shove came exactly when he predicted it would. He laughed all the way out the door.

  A number of teachers stopped by at lunch to wish him well. Patrick and the vice principals, too. He’d made a point to visit the cafeteria to say goodbye to Magenta, who’d shocked him by rounding the counter and pulling him into a hug. Her embarrassed smile warmed his heart as much as the sweet gesture. The kids in his science class had each signed their names on a periodic table that Berg, the softy, had framed. He’d let the boys in his two afternoon classes have an open gym and play the sports of their choosing, and they’d let him join in the fun. They’d clapped for him and thanked him for being there. Hell, six of them had even shaken his hand after class.

  But one student had been noticeably missing from the crowd. By the time the three o’clock bell sounded, he’d given up thinking Ryan might show. He had his home number, though, and he’d keep trying to get through. He wouldn’t quit on him.

  Rebecca, Berg, and Margaret were in the office when he returned at the end of the day, the latter stealing the remaining piece of cake.

  “I hope you’ll consider coming back,” Margaret said to him, for the second time. “This school needs more teachers like you.”

  He smiled and gave her another hug. “Good luck with the fall play. I’ll try to get here to see it next week.”

  She thanked him, then gave Berg a nudge. “Let’s give the love birds some privacy, hey?”

  The big man shook Will’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder. Pete had pushed him from the start, smashed his comfort zone to smithereens, and helped him through minor hiccups and major hassles. It was obvious the older man respected him as a person, but once he received his evaluation, it became clear he valued Will as a colleague, too. He’d placed a checkmark in the “highly successful” category.

  “I know this isn’t goodbye just yet,” he said. “We’ll be seeing ya on the court next week. Take care, bud, and great job.”

  “Thanks again, Berg. For everything. Couldn’t have asked for a better mentor.”

  “Oh, please,” Rebecca groaned. “He’s got a big enough head already.”

  Margaret mimed stretching out the doorframe so Pete could make his exit ahead of her, then she followed suit, grinning madly.

  Alone again—only now, he planned to lay it all on the line. Speak his intentions so they were crystal clear. “Rebecca Ledgerwood,” he began, taking a step toward her, “I’ve waited eight long weeks to tell you how much I want you.”

  Her breath hitched.

  “Do you still want me?” Another step.

  “Yes.”

  “Tomorrow night, I’m gonna show you how much I want you.”

  Pink splotches of color painted her cheeks and neck. Her throat convulsed. “You have to at least buy me dinner first.”

  The toes of their sneakers pressed together. “Oh, I’ve got big plans. Text me your address.” They stood so close he felt the heat of her breath on his face. Her eyelids fluttered, and she canted forward, and it took every bit of his self-control to keep from capturing her mouth right then and there.

  He cupped her cheek, trailed his fingers to her chin. “Tomorrow,” he croaked. Then he stepped back, and the bubble burst.

  She gaped at him. “Tease. There’d better be dessert, too.”

  Chuckling, he gathered all his things, including the extra bags of gifts and goodies. Rebecca was kind enough to get the door for him, which she leaned against as he entered the hallway. Her parting words to him were spoken in a breathy whisper: “Eat lots of dark chocolate.”

  20

  They had approximately ten minutes before Will said he’d be there to pick her up, and Hannah was applying the finishing touches to her makeup. Rebecca had begrudgingly allowed her bestie to “enhance” her already made-up face, and that was after she’d given her permission to add some curl to her hair. As far as wardrobe went, Hannah had pulled a skinny jean from Rebecca’s closet and paired it with an off-the-shoulder ribbed long-sleeved shirt and a matching black tank top. They’d compromised on footwear. Or, rather, Rebecca had steamrolled her into agreeing that her freshly polished black-and-white polka-dotted tennies looked adorable with her outfit.

  Hannah returned the mascara to her makeup bag, then gazed at Rebecca, no doubt admiring her own handiwork. “Babe, you look gorge!”

  “Thanks, Tan,” she deadpanned, referring to the fashion expert on the television series Queer Eye.

  Hannah giggled at the moniker. “I’ve always felt I had a good eye when it comes to selecting outfits. We really should shop more together.”

  “Yeah, no.”

  “Becks, honey, your closet looks like a sports store threw up on it.”

  Rebecca stood and spun around to face Hannah. “Hello, my world revolves around sports.”

  “Well, my world revolves around dogs, but you don’t see me wearing a collar or a harness or . . . Ooh, I wonder if Kent’s into the bondage thing.”

  She snorted. “Things are still good with you two? You haven’t worn him out yet, I hope?”

  “Not yet. He has an impressive amount of stamina, that one.”

  Hannah led the way out of the bathroom and down the short hallway to the living room. They sat next to each other on the lone couch. The nerves that had been quietly simmering until then started boiling over. Rebecca smoothed her palms back and forth across her thighs. Checked her watch. Five minutes. “I’m nervous,” she confessed.

  “Good. That means you genuinely like the guy. Just . . . try not to be hyper-competitive with him, okay? I know he’s taking you to Fun Zone, which is right up your alley, but remember, even the most even-keeled man will not take losing consistently w
ell. You should only grind the ones you don’t want to see again under those jock heels of yours.”

  Rebecca sighed. “I’ll dial it back a bit, but I’m not going easy on him. How else can I determine whether or not he’s shag-worthy?”

  A steady knock sounded at the door, and Rebecca leapt to her feet.

  Hannah squealed. “Should I hide?”

  “What? No. Besides, he probably heard you squeal. Come and meet him.”

  Hannah didn’t need to be told twice. Her heels click-clacked behind Rebecca’s soft, cushiony footfalls all the way to the entrance. Rebecca grabbed her jacket from the coat closet, then pulled the door open to find her date for the evening in dark jeans and dressy sneakers, a black shirt, and a brown leather jacket. Cleanly shaven. Hair perfectly rumpled. His smile enough to make a girl swoon. And if all that wasn’t enough, he held a bouquet of flowers, too.

  Will glanced curiously between the women. “Hi. I didn’t know I’d be meeting two beautiful ladies tonight.”

  “Definitely shag-worthy,” Hannah muttered.

  Rebecca laughed as Will and Hannah shook hands, her date thankfully choosing to ignore the comment. “Will, this is Hannah, my best friend and worst influence. Are you okay to lock up?” she asked Hannah.

  “Yep. Got my spare key in my purse. I’ll put these lovely things in water”—she took the bouquet from Will—“get my stuff, and scoot.”

  “Thanks again,” she said, stepping outside to join Will who immediately placed his warm palm on the small of her back.

  “Call me tomorrow! Great meeting you, Will!”

  “Great meeting you, too,” Will said, waving to the woman who had no intention of moving from her eavesdropping post at the door.

  They walked the short distance to his car parked on the street. Sleek, black, and suitably sporty. He opened the passenger door for her, but before he closed her inside, he said, “You look incredible.”

  His words crawled all over her in delightful ways while he circled the front of his car. When he slid inside, the scent of leather mixed with a hint of spicy cologne and mint. All at once arousing.

  He turned to her and unleashed a wicked smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi back.”

  Dipping a hand into his jacket pocket, he removed a wrapped chocolate chip cafeteria cookie and presented it to her. “I bought this yesterday before I left.”

  “Aww, thank you.” She met his gaze, and they held contact for long enough that she wondered if they might just sit there all night and stare at each other. And she would have been totally cool with that. “You look good, too, by the way,” she said to break the silence.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m diggin’ the leather.” Her hand reached out to stroke his arm.

  “I’m diggin’ you.” His jacket squeaked as he angled himself more. “My heart is pounding,” he confessed with a laugh. “I’m thinking maybe I need to kiss you to calm my nerves.”

  Rebecca’s lips curved into a smile that he captured before it was fully formed. This kiss lacked the urgency of their first, but the slow, languid pace he set made every pulse point on her body ache and throb with need. He cupped her jaw as his tongue swept over her lips, then plunged into her mouth, writhing against hers. She gripped his jacket to keep from tearing off her own clothes.

  When they finally surfaced for air, she fell back against her seat with a satisfied hum.

  “There, that’s better.”

  “Oh?” she asked, surprised that the kiss had somehow calmed him down when it’d done nothing but whip her into a frenzy. “Is the thrill gone because it’s not forbidden anymore?”

  He reached for her hand and pressed it to the thin cotton that stretched over his heart. The organ beat erratically against her palm. “If it was any more thrilling, I’d need a medic. I just wanted an excuse to kiss you.”

  Goofy grin cemented in place, she reluctantly stopped feeling up his chest and rested her hand on the center console. Will shifted the car into gear, and they started their journey. And just before her house was out of view, she waved to Hannah. There you go, Barker. Hope you enjoyed the show.

  I can’t believe we’re here.

  The mantra kept repeating on loop in Will’s head. He and Rebecca Ledgerwood were on a date. After eight long weeks. Yeah, there were probably a thousand sexier places he could have taken her, but he knew the woman he was with. At times, it scared him how much he understood her. And this place—Fun Zone—fit her to a tee. Fit them.

  She wore her hair down, just as she’d done at the dance, only now there were loose curls around her face and at the back. Her makeup was flawless. Truthfully, she didn’t need a speck of it, but the simple touches made her already gorgeous features pop. And that off-the-shoulder top she had going on? Damn. He’d always been drawn to that part on a woman—the cavity between her collarbone and the top of her shoulders. The way Rebecca’s curved in contrast to the straight lines of her tank top straps made him burn from the inside out. She knew when to reveal and when to hide her assets, which turned him on most of all.

  And when it came to athletics, her self-confidence soared. Fun Zone was an arcade and entertainment center on the outskirts of the city that offered a variety of indoor games and activities. She’d beaten him by four strokes at mini putt, they’d both lost to a team of trigger-happy teenagers at laser tag, and he’d evened the score on the air hockey table. In between events, they’d had burgers and fries and held hands and flirted because they could.

  The batting cages were next. Their final and deciding match. Whoever had the most on-base hits would be declared the winner. They walked hand in hand to the cages at the rear of the building that had built-in technology enabling them to track where their ball landed in a virtual baseball diamond.

  “What does the winner get?” Will asked while they selected their bats from the equipment area and donned helmets.

  “In my case, redemption. I’m not over losing H-O-R-S-E yet.”

  Will laughed. “I don’t think either of us lost that day.” He helped her clip on her chin strap, then lowered his voice. “What do I get if I win?”

  She hit him with a sexy smile that made her almond eyes dance. “I dunno. Maybe a repeat of the car kiss? Maybe something more. We’ll have to see how many hits you get, slugger.”

  He stepped up to the plate first, at Rebecca’s insistence. She wanted him to set the bar. What he didn’t expect was her to follow him into the cage, which was against the rules, but they’d been bending the rules since they’d met. She kept back a safe distance, and he lowered the pitching speed and the timer, giving him five seconds between pitches. She allowed him three clean swings, building up a false sense of security, and then capitalized on that five-second interval in the most cunning and arousing way.

  The first distraction was a teasing finger that she trailed down the nape of his neck. He shuddered, shook off the tingling sensation, and barely managed to make contact with the next pitch.

  Her second attack was far more damaging. She came in all stealth-like, blew hot breath into his right ear, then beat a hasty retreat. He missed the next pitch completely.

  “I never took you for a cheater,” he rasped.

  “Not cheating. Making things more interesting.”

  Well, two could play that game. Three more uninterrupted pitches sailed over the plate, all of which he cranked into the outfield. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe she’d given up on her antics, though. Sure enough, she came back before he cranked out another one. This time, she tugged on his earlobe. With her teeth. Releasing a guttural groan, he stepped back from the plate and let the pitch go. Not even giving a damn.

  When she stepped up to bat, he watched her first few swings. Her form spoke of a woman who was no stranger to a baseball diamond. He wondered if she’d grown up playing the game. If she still played. Maybe he could take her to a ballgame in the city, show her all his favorite spots, bring her back to his apartment where he’d been fantasizing about h
er for too many nights to count.

  He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and gripped the bat over her hands. Instead of distracting her, he’d join her. Go into battle with her. Alone, she was a force to be reckoned with, but together . . . they were unstoppable.

  She settled herself against him, and they lined up for a swing. They moved in sync, making contact at the perfect time, the ball flying beyond the park walls thanks to their combined strength. She wiggled her ass into his front as they set up for the next pitch. Christ, he wanted her.

  “Last pitch,” he growled in her ear. So what if the screen read she had twenty pitches remaining? He couldn’t wait that long to have his hands all over her without any hinderances, and he didn’t think she’d object.

  Like him, she’d want to make the last pitch count. She’d imagine the bases were loaded, the count was full, the game was tied, and this was the final out of the ninth. They each put weight on their right foot, pulled back on the bat, then swung forward just before the ball crossed the plate. It rocketed to the center outfield and cleared the barrier, landing in the crowd. Their score flashed across the screen. A four-hundred-and-fifty-foot homerun.

  Loathe to let her go but desperate to get her alone, he released her from his clutches and shut off the automatic timer. They made an early exit from the cage, much to the delight of the awaiting participant, and circled around to the equipment area. When he approached her to unclip her helmet, she planted a soft kiss on his lips.

  “That was for the homerun,” she whispered. Then she leaned in and took his lips a second time. “And that’s so you’ll run me home.”

  Swallowing hard, he threw their helmets and bats . . . somewhere, clasped her hand, and practically jogged them out of the building and back to his car. They didn’t make it into the vehicle. Instead, he pressed her against it.