Accidental Hero_A Marriage Mistake Romance Read online

  What gives? Why isn't Brent getting her a picture?

  He’s still lost in his own world. Sketching quickly. Frantically. Like he's desperate to finish something before leaving. My curiosity turns into pure adrenaline.

  I can’t stop myself. “Mr. Eden? Would you like a picture?”

  When he looks up, his gaze is so intense my heart nearly stops mid-beat.

  “Oh, I'd like that! Please, can you, Daddy?” Natalie asks, turning to him.

  I'm glad she doesn't witness me melting into a puddle of nerves.

  His bright eyes shift. The smile transforming Brent's face is for his daughter, but it steals my breath.

  I’ve watched lots of men smile. I've seen it, sketched it, noted how a thin quirk of the lips can change a full appearance.

  But this man, this beast, goes from hardcore army badass to giant teddy bear in the blink of an eye.

  He can't hide the adoration lighting up his eyes the second Natalie calls him Daddy.

  At least I've learned one thing tonight: this man lives for his daughter.

  Guilt twists in my guts again when I remember my earlier worries about him being overbearing. Not now. It just doesn't seem likely.

  “Sure, sweets. One second,” he says, closing his notebook.

  My heart starts working again. It beats harder with every step he takes toward the front of the room.

  I’ve been this close to him before. Once. The first night, when he’d dropped Natalie off and introduced himself.

  I tried like crazy not to freeze up, and failed miserably, barely muttering my name.

  Can't let that happen again. I won't embarrass myself a second time, no matter how many feels this handsome enigma shoots through me.

  Pretending I'm unfazed by his presence, I say goodbye to Ester and her mother before they walk out the side door. Then, in my scattered state of mind, I accidentally knock a stack of papers off the corner of my desk.

  “Oh, f – fiddlesticks!” I say, catching myself.

  God. I'd nearly dropped an f-bomb in my flustered state. My tongue is my biggest vice sometimes. I'm still sanding away the rough language I picked up too much of in college.

  Natalie shoots forward. “I’ll help, Ms. Derby!”

  I kneel down beside her and start gathering the papers. “Thanks, Natalie. I certainly can be clumsy sometimes. Must be getting late.”

  Must be. Or else I'd totally have to admit I've been drooling over her father for the better part of the last ten minutes.

  “We all have accidents,” she says. “Don’t stress.”

  I smile, nodding slowly. This girl sounds far too old for her age, which causes me to glance up at her father.

  He's raised her to be polite. Kind. Intelligent.

  He shrugs when he sees there isn't room to step in and help, walking over to pick up the backpack she's left on the floor.

  I take the papers Natalie collects and stack them on top of the pile I've formed. “Thanks for your help again, Natalie. You're too awesome.”

  “Ready, sweets?” Brent asks.

  “Coming!” Natalie flashes a big grin. “See you next week, Ms. Derby. Can't wait to finish my drawing.”

  “Looking forward to it,” I answer, flinching slightly at not being able to come up with something more original.

  Brent nods at me while laying a hand on Natalie’s shoulder and guiding her towards the door.

  I nod back. I think. I'm too embarrassed to say for sure.

  Woof. I'm so ready to slump into my chair before I leave the building.

  I need five or ten. Just a few precious minutes to let my body, mind, and pulse find their baseline.

  I doubt there's any time. This is the only evening class near closing time. Oscar Winters, the janitor, who doubles as our evening security guard, is already waiting for me to leave so he can lock up and go home.

  Sighing, I set the stack of papers on the corner, hoping the regular teacher in this room, Mrs. Wayne's substitute, isn’t overly upset tomorrow morning that they aren’t in the same order. Then I start packing my things in my carry-all. I'm so busy trying to get out of here I don't even see him enter.

  “Finally! Why the hell have you been ignoring my calls and texts?”

  The voice vibrating in my ears makes me shudder like a spider crawling up my spine. A huge, unwanted, hairy one.

  Crap. Not this guy again.

  I huff out a breath of air before glancing up. “What are you doing here, Preston?”

  All five feet and nine inches of Preston Graves stands just a few feet away like he owns the place. He probably thinks he does.

  He’s that arrogant. If you could take a picture of a blind date gone bad, it would look like this man.

  Bleached blond hair, blue eyes, and obscenely rich. He’s also the biggest prick I’ve ever met.

  He looked better in the pics he'd uploaded to the matchmaker app. I was actually excited when it said we were compatible, mainly because I knew mom would approve. Well, and because he didn't look quite as phony with a good filter.

  Then we met, and he opened his dumb mouth.

  “Isabella, don't play coy. You know why I'm here: you haven’t responded to a single one of my messages. You're ignoring me.” He leans a hand on the corner of the desk. “For your information, Preston Graves does not like being ignored.”

  That’s how he talks. Third person. It’s overly unnecessary and fucking annoying.

  Correction: he’s overly fucking annoying.

  “I’ve been busy,” I say.

  I mentally wonder how crazy my intruder is. Could he stop me from reaching for my phone if push comes to shove?

  “Excuses, excuses. Who do you think you're dealing with, dear? No one's ever too busy for me. What's the real deal keeping you away?”

  Gag me with a fucking spoon. “The school year just started.”

  I force a weak smile. It does nothing. Call me an idiot for letting the dating app scan my real employer. I'm an even bigger fool if I think it'll help get me out of this madness.

  “And?” Preston taps his polished shoe impatiently, scratching his head.

  Ugh. Is he dense or just insufferable?

  I’d told him when I cut our date short that I didn’t have time to see him again, but he obviously thought I was lying. Why he'd want to chase a liar, who knows.

  Time to take a different route. “Preston, look, you shouldn't be here. It's a secure environment, this academy, whether it's school hours or not. We have rules.”

  “Nonsense. Nothing's too secure for Preston Graves. My Uncle Theo sits on the board of the largest banking chain in Maricopa county. Security's practically my middle name. It's lovely you follow the rules, Isabella, but you've got nothing to worry about as long as –”

  Oh, please, shut up, Gaston. It's too much like my favorite fairy tale with none of the charm. I stop listening.

  It's time to end this right now.

  “Do you have a pass, Preston? Did you show it to the guard in the hall?”

  “The janitor, you mean? The man who’s vacuuming a few classrooms away?” He turns his nose up, walking around the desk, dragging a manicured hand along the edge. “Very funny, Isabella. You're on fire tonight. Why would I waste the time? When Preston finds something he wants, nothing stands in his way.” He stops right in front of me. “Nothing and no one.”

  My heart leaps into my throat. This puffed up joke of a man is getting old and weird fast. I don't like the glint in his eye. He’s a mega-creep, too. Not just socially clueless.

  I think I know a psychotic asshole who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth when I see one. Knew it from the night I was dumb enough to go out with him.

  I just didn't think he'd go to these lengths for another chance. Never imagined he'd bother me here.

  I freeze, trying to think without making it too obvious. I don’t dare glance around.

  That would be the worst thing: letting him think he has me scared.

  B
ut he does.

  This looney tune has my heart crawling up my throat.

  “Are we done playing now?” He steps closer, an eerie warmth on his face. “I know you like Preston, Isabella. Everyone does. You just have a rather curious way of showing it.”

  A shiver ripples through my entire body. I have nothing to defend myself, and shoot a sideways glance at the desk, scanning for something that might work.

  Nothing. Not even a sharp pencil.

  I'm screwed. Estimating how loud I can scream when everything changes.

  Preston falls backwards, grabbing the edge of the desk so hard it moves, scraping the floor. Then I see Brent Eden. Nostrils flaring, he has a hand on the back of Preston’s starched shirt collar.

  Preston twists his neck, taking in the man holding onto him. “W-Who are you?”

  “Nothing and no one,” Brent says, echoing his earlier words.

  Though I never condone violence, right now I wouldn’t mind seeing Preston knocked on his ass.

  He tries shaking off Brent’s iron grip. “You're making a big mistake! I’m Preston Graves the third and –”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” Brent growls, tightening his hold.

  Wow.

  Preston squirms, panic in his eyes. “But...this is crazy! Isabella and I are dating.”

  Brent’s green eyes settle on me. My heart's still in my throat, but I manage to shake my head for a split second.

  This courtship ended after the first and only date Preston Graves will ever get from me. One date too many.

  “I don’t think so,” Brent says, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Yes, we are,” Preston insists. “Tell him Isabella!”

  Even if I could find my tongue, that’s the last thing I’d admit to.

  A mischievous glint flashes in Brent’s eyes. “She can’t be dating you. She’s dating me.”

  Wait. What?!

  I nearly choke on my own breath.

  Preston tries harder to get loose. “Impossible!”

  Brent spins Preston around so they’re face to face. “Then you probably also believe it’s impossible we’re engaged. And that I’ll beat the fuck out of any man who comes within twenty feet of my fiancée.”

  I'm no stranger to F-words, but that one, on his lips, makes me want to pass out.

  He gives Preston another shove and before I know it, Brent grabs me, one hand on the back of my head, and smashes his lips against mine.

  I'm gone.

  Heat consumes me so swiftly the world melts. His lips are all fire. The blood surging through my veins might be lava.

  My lips part – they never have a chance – and his tongue sweeps into my mouth.

  Hot. Bold. Amazing.

  Brent’s other arm wraps around me, holding my body tight against the length of him. It's like an ice cream cone up against a space heater. My entire body melts down from the inside out.

  Holy hell. This is the kind of kiss every girl dreams about. The take-me-out-of-this-world kind.

  I’m so engrossed several moments flit by before I remember he shouldn’t be kissing me.

  We aren’t alone. I barely know him. He’s my student’s father.

  A dozen other realizations bum-rush my dizzy brain, including Preston’s voice.

  I pull out of the kiss – regretfully. Still too worked up to stand on my own, I lean against Brent, taking a few seconds to let the real world return.

  “No one dumps Preston Graves!” He says numbly, his anger slowly returning. “And that stupid app guaranteed three dates. Three!” He holds up his fingers, as if I don't know how to count.

  Hell, after that kiss, maybe I don't.

  “I can sue. Sue them, and you. Both of you!” He prattles on, stomping a foot like a child not getting his way. “You've made a big mistake, Isabella Derby. You and your thug boyfriend. I'll take every penny you have and – and her teacher’s license. Just watch me. Preston Graves can do that!”

  Brent’s upper lip curls slightly as he shakes his head. “Preston Graves better get the fuck out of here before he needs to sue for medical expenses, too.”

  “Hey! Is there a problem here?”

  I push away from Brent’s side as Oscar Winters and Natalie walk through the door. The poor girl looks bewildered, probably wondering what the hold up is with her dad.

  “Yeah. Big problem,” Brent replies, pointing at Preston. “Did you let his man in the building?”

  “No.” Oscar's face falls, realizing the seriousness. He might not have Brent's rogue good looks, but he's a big man. Over six feet tall and two hundred intimidating pounds, Oscar walks towards Preston. “How did you get in here, sir?”

  “Dear God, are you all clueless? Preston Graves can go anywhere he damn well –”

  “No, he can’t,” Brent interjects. “I don’t know how he got in the building, but I saw him sneaking out of the men’s room. Didn't like the look on his face. I followed.”

  “You're in the wrong place. Let's go.” Oscar grabs Preston’s arm. “I'm truly sorry for this, Ms. Derby. It won’t happen again.”

  “I hope not,” Brent says seriously. “Safety's in your hands.” He nods towards Natalie. “That shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

  “Never, Mr. Eden. You're absolutely right. Believe me, I'll find out how Mr. Graves found his way in. It won't happen a second time.” Oscar tugs Preston towards the door, none too gently.

  Preston appears to have lost some of his arrogance as he crosses the room, at the mercy of two powerful men. But he's still wearing a this-isn’t-over glare I don't like one bit. I roll my shoulders, pretending to stretch. Really, I'm hiding the shiver.

  Brent’s hand slides off my shoulder and down my back. Amazingly comforting.

  “Get your things,” he says quietly. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “I’ll take your sketchpad!” Natalie says cheerfully, ready to chip in.

  Her smile suggests she saw plenty, probably through the small glass window in the classroom door. It also says what just happened hasn't bothered her in the least.

  My cheeks go bright red. I'm more thankful than ever she's mature for her age. At least I don't have to worry about any gossip that could get me in deep, deep doo-doo.

  Still fighting off a nervous tremble, I say, “Thank you.” Then I look at Brent. “That’s not necessary, but thanks. Again. I can find my own way out, Mr. Eden.”

  “No. You're coming to your car with me,” he insists, grabbing my carry-all off the desk. “This everything?”

  He’s no nonsense through and through. The hint of irony in his glare tells me not to argue. So I don’t.

  “Everything,” I echo, stepping forward and taking my sketchpad from Natalie. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Ms. Derby.” With another large grin, she leans in and whispers, “Thank you, too. Dad likes being a hero. Doesn't get to do the whole white knight thing as often as he'd like.”

  “Nat.” There's a hint of a warning in Brent’s tone.

  Natalie shakes her head slightly while her green eyes twinkle. “He’s a good knight, too.”

  Unable to disagree, I nod.

  “Where’s your backpack, baby girl?” Brent asks.

  “Oh! I think I left it in the hallway when you told me to go get Mr. Winters,” Natalie answers.

  “Go get it. We'll wait right here.”

  “Okay, Daddy!” There’s a skip in her step as she hurries towards the door.

  Once again, I’m searching for my tongue as I walk towards the door with Brent by my side. I need to tell him thank you, but I’m afraid I’ll sound like a bubbling idiot.

  “One question: what made you go out with a man who calls himself by his own name?” Brent asks once Natalie's out of earshot.

  Kill me. He's trying to lighten this insanity, I'm sure. Still, full-fledged embarrassment burns my cheeks. “Fuck if I know.” I flinch then and bite my tongue.

  That's not how a teacher speaks. Especially a preschool teacher who does
evening art classes for older kids.

  For a second, he cocks his head. Then, to my utter amazement, he laughs. It’s a nice sound. And it breaks the invisible ice surrounding me. “That's a damn good answer, Ms. Derby.”

  “Well...thank you,” I say sheepishly. “I knew I made a mistake. I thought we were done. Tried to let him down easy. Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think he’d show up here.”

  He lifts a brow as we step into the hallway. “Is Preston Graves in your wildest dreams?”

  “Hell no!” I flinch again at my own language. “I mean, no. Gross. He was a match-up from a dating site. One I won’t mention because I’m very dissatisfied.”

  “How many times did you date him?”

  “Once.” I shake my head. “Actually, it was more like a half-date. I didn’t even make it through reading the menu at the place in Scottsdale before I knew I had to cut things short. It had already been too long.”

  My comment reminds him we're probably wasting time, too. He starts walking and I follow.

  Natalie is waiting by the main entrance door with Oscar. It's a long corridor. Brent sees them, but doesn’t seem to be in a hurry.

  “What did you do?” he asks.

  “I laid a twenty on the table to pay for my glass of wine, gave the waitress a big tip, which she highly deserved, and lied.”

  “Lied?”

  “Yes. Lied. I told him it was nice to meet him, which it wasn't, and then I said I was sorry, but I simply don’t have time to date right now.”

  “When was that?”

  “Almost three weeks ago. He stopped texting me last week when I didn't respond, so I’d hoped it was finally over.” It's embarrassing telling him all this, but it’s the truth, and he deserves that much after coming to my rescue.

  Preston's creepy encounter shook me up more than I want to admit.

  “I have no idea how he got inside, Mr. Eden,” Oscar says as we approach him and Natalie. “The doors were locked. I let everyone in and out and didn’t see him once. I always double check. I'm sure of it!” Oscar looks at me, frustration lining his brow. “He's gone now, Ms. Derby. I escorted him to his car and watched him drive away. I'll gladly do the same for you.”

  “We're good, Oscar. I'm her escort,” Brent says. “Did you search him for a key fob?”