Accidental Hero: A Marriage Mistake Romance Page 3

  Oscar’s face falls as he shakes his head. “No, sir, but I’ll make a full report of the security breach. As you know, the academy takes security very seriously.”

  Brent turns to me. “Could he have gotten your key fob?”

  “No. It’s right here.” I pull the badge around my neck out of the top of my shirt. My I.D. card and the key fob dangle off the end. “It hasn’t been out of my sight since I got it two weeks ago. Jesus. This doesn't make any sense...”

  Brent nods, turning back to Oscar. “I suggest you find out who lost a key fob recently and make everyone aware what Preston Graves looks like. Make sure they understand he's not allowed on the premises.”

  Oscar nods. “Of course, sir, I'll do that. I'll stay late. Get the report in the system before I leave.”

  A million questions race through my mind, but I hold them until after we walk outside. The heat still coming off the nighttime pavement makes me want to fan myself. We're off high summer, the hottest time of year, but not to the point where the nights are really comfortable.

  Once we're walking down the long concrete walkway leading to the parking lot, I ask another question I've been holding in. “So, uh, Mr. Eden...are you a detective? A cop, maybe?”

  “No.”

  “He works with cops all the time,” Natalie says. “He owns his own company.”

  I wait for either one of them to add more, but they don’t, and I’m too tongue tied to keep probing. Or too scared.

  Though he came to my rescue, gave me the hottest, most memorable kiss of my life, there are red flags popping up all over. This whole thing is bad news.

  He’s a student’s father. The academy has rules against teacher-family relationships. Pages upon pages of ironclad rules. As the most elite private academy in the county, the wait list to become a student, or to get a job here, is as long as Route 66.

  Landing this preschool position was pure luck. Same as the very part-time accelerated art class I'm filling in for.

  I can’t fuck it up. Cannot. Will not.

  Not even for drop dead sexy men with beast eyes and beards who kiss like they mean business.

  “That your car?” Brent asks.

  Lost in thought, I glance up, nodding. Classic Mustang convertible. Old. Not at all what anyone would expect a teacher to drive. “It was my dad’s.”

  He doesn’t respond physically or verbally, just keeps walking. At the car, he opens the door and looks inside before stepping aside.

  “You should lock your doors.”

  “I usually do.” I’d been running late, trying to get back in time for the evening class and hadn’t, but won’t make that mistake again. I take my bag from him and pull out the keys, then put the carry-all and my sketchpad in the backseat. I make sure to include Natalie as I say, “Thank you both. For everything.”

  “Nah, it was our pleasure, Ms. Derby!” Natalie talks like she’s forty instead of ten. I smile like mad. She steps forward and wraps her arms around my middle. “Please don't be embarrassed. We were really happy to help tonight.”

  Something inside me flutters as I hug her back. It's not everyday you run into good people.

  Our hug ends, and as she steps away, she twists to look at her father. “Weren’t we, Daddy? Happy to help Ms. Derby?”

  The transformation on his face happens again. “Yes, baby girl,” he says. “Thrilled.” His smile fades as he looks at me. “Our truck's right over there. We’ll wait until you drive away. Unless you want us to follow you home?”

  “No!” I flinch at my immediate response. “I mean, that's totally okay. You’ve already done more than enough. Much more. Thank you.”

  Completely unsure what to do, I take a step forward, but pause, not sure if I should shake his hand, or, well, hug him. Some crazy part of me shouts hug.

  Fine. I step forward and give him a quick thank you squeeze.

  His statue stiffness tells me I should've went with hand shake.

  Crap.

  I really am an idiot. But it's not like I have experience handling gorgeous men who pretend-kiss like it's the end of the world.

  “Goodnight, guys!” I spin around and jump in my car, slamming the door shut, before I make this more awkward.

  I wait until they turn around to walk across the three parking spaces between his truck and my car before leaning my forehead against the steering wheel. Mortification overwhelms me.

  Heat does, too. Inside and out. It’s been a brutal summer. Hot and windy, the autumn break can’t come soon enough. Southern Arizona isn't a humid place, but the dry, hundred degree plus days wear on a body and soul.

  I crank the window for fresh air and glance out the opening. There's a car rumbling up beside mine. Not Brent and Natalie's.

  My heart leaps in my throat, but then slides back down where it belongs when I realize who it is.

  Clara. Damn!

  After everything went haywire tonight, I spaced on our plans to meet here so she could drop off one of her famous pies.

  It's too late to stop the chain reaction. I see Brent gesturing furiously at Natalie to get in his truck as he starts walking back towards me. Opening the door, I climb out, hands in front of me. “Whoa, whoa, it’s okay! Nothing scary. This is just my cousin, Clara.”

  Clara doesn’t miss a beat. If she was a curious cat, she'd have lost about all nine lives by now. “Isabella Derby!” She's already shaking her head.

  Oh, God. Here it comes.

  Holding out her hand, she walks straight toward Brent. “Who on Earth is this fine specimen?”

  I run. Around the back end of her car, to her side.

  I’m too late to stop anything. Natalie is already answering, “He’s our hero tonight!”

  Seriously. Where's the hole in the ground? The kind that can swallow a person whole, when we need one?

  “Hero?” Both of Clara’s eyes are wider than an owl's as she looks at me and blinks. “Isabella Derby!”

  Forget the hole in the ground. The brutal smile on her face makes me wish I had one in my head.

  This night truly can't get any worse.

  I love Clara, but she’s the biggest gossip in the family. And I'm not sure Derby blood was ever compatible with privacy.

  “He’s just...the father of one of my students. Nothing to worry about,” I say, adding so much emphasis it hurts my tongue.

  Her smile turns coy as she turns back to Brent. Sticking out her hand even further, she says, “Well, well, it's truly a pleasure. Clara Derby, Big Daddy. How do you do?”

  Brent shakes her hand with an uneasy smile. I just close my eyes and pray for this day to be over. It's cursed. From the very second my alarm went off this morning.

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Derby.” I hear him say. Then, “I'm afraid I have to run. Good seeing Isabella with a friend.”

  He gives me a knowing glance. I die once under his striking eyes, and again when I hear how my name sounds on his lips.

  “Brent,” I whisper. His name, rather than Mr. Eden, tastes wonderful in my mouth, too.

  “Goodnight, Ladies.”

  My eyes snap open and I watch him walk to the truck. Clara’s mouth drops.

  I want to laugh. As painful as this is, it's so ridiculous it's kinda surreal.

  Nerves. Has to be. Yet, in my defense, the way he didn’t give Clara what she wanted, a name to Google, is comical.

  He climbs into his truck and starts the engine.

  Clara turns to me, mouth still hanging open and eyes wide. Her silence only lasts a nano-second.

  “OMG!” she hisses. “He’s to die for, Izzy!”

  I can’t agree. Well, I can, but I won’t.

  I still can't believe I forgot about her stupid pie.

  Fuck. This is turning out to be the night of unwanted company to the nth degree.

  Clara’s long dark hair whips in the wind as she turns to his truck and then back to me. “Where? How? How long? Is he your dating site match-up guy? Why didn't you tell me you'd matched a ten o
ut of ten hunk, lady?”

  “What? No, no, no, and no!” I try to wipe out all her rapid fire questions at once.

  “You're terrible for holding out on me. I thought we were family! You never said how your date turned out – mighty good by the looks of him. I mean, it.”

  I shake my head. “Clara, it's late. I should be getting home.”

  “I brought you a pie! Coconut cream.” Clara winks, reaching in the door she’d left open, her car still running. “Your favorite. I made a couple for dinner, and everyone agreed I should drop one off since you missed out. You're welcome, cuz.”

  Just great. I don’t even like coconut cream pie that much.

  Like most everything about the family dinners, I pretend I do to keep the peace. Then, a solid escape opportunity dawns on me. “Awesome!” I snatch the pie from her hand, feigning joy. “Better go before this melts. Have a nice night, Clara!”

  “You really need a new car, Izzy. One with modern air conditioning.”

  “Someday, when I can afford it.” I hold up the pie and smile as if I can’t wait to bite into it. “Mmmm, supper! Thanks again.”

  I’m half way to my car, when her question stops me.

  “Does your mama know about Big Daddy?”

  I spin around as my stomach hits the ground. “Nope. And that's the way it's gonna stay because there isn’t anything to know.”

  “He’s still sitting there. Watching.” She smiles, nods toward their truck, and does a small wave.

  “He’s just being polite.” I start walking again. “And we're being rude, Clara. He has a little girl to get home to put to bed. He's waiting for us to leave. Making sure we're safe.” I leave it there so I don't have to mention, much less think about Preston again.

  “So...no mother? No wife? I mean, if you've got to deal with her, there are always ways around the drama. You can't let that stop you!”

  “Clara.”

  “Okay, okay! I’m just curious.”

  “Nosy, you mean,” I mumble, climbing in my car. As the engine purrs to life, I wave. “Thanks again for the pie.”

  She gets in her car and pulls away. I follow. Brent follows me. I try to let out a huff of relief, but there's none in me. I follow Clara’s tail lights to the highway.

  Thank God.

  I cringe. Hoping he doesn’t plan on following me all the way to my place in Tempe. Knowing Clara, she’s already considering how to turn around and follow him home. My mind starts spinning faster than the nighttime traffic whipping down the four-lane highway.

  A small sense of relief seeps out of me when I look in my mirrors again. Brent takes an exit. And I don’t see a car that looks like Clara’s anymore.

  Then reality hits home.

  Jesus! This night could've been an even bigger disaster.

  If Clara ever hears what Brent said to Preston, about us being engaged, I’m toast.

  And so is he.

  There's no drama in the known universe like Derby drama.

  And me, being a single crazy cat lady for the rest of my life, has been the main family tragedy for months.

  Who knew the fix could be even worse?

  2

  Paint It All Blue (Brent)

  It’s hotter than blue blazes, but not even the sweat pouring down my back can kill my focus.

  What the hell was I thinking? Kissing that shy little teacher last night?

  I know what I’d been thinking: that I’d like to fuck her.

  Thinking with my dick. Thinking like a sex starved maniac who's been too busy working his ass off to haul any woman into bed for far too long.

  That's what I try to tell myself. Anything to dismiss the lust fogging my head.

  If only it were as simple as sex alone.

  Seeing that slick-dick bastard sneaking out of the bathroom pissed me off royal. Got under my skin like a rattlesnake bite before I even got wind of the nasty way he spoke to Blue.

  I can’t stop the grin forming. Blue.

  I’ve come to call her that because of the bright blue streaks in her dirty blonde hair. It's just one side, and just a few strands. More like the emo girls a decade ago than full on punk rock.

  They make her look rare. Magical. Damnably hard to resist.

  I remember walking her out into the parking lot, the lights glowing overhead. When they caught her face just right, her gray eyes nearly matched the soft ocean stripe in her hair.

  Maybe a shade lighter.

  Almost like they're speckled with blue diamonds. Like she's blue to the soul, even when she was standing in front of me with her motor mouth cousin, cheeks flushing hellfire red.

  That woman was something, all right.

  Something unique. Something sexy. Something beautiful.

  I’ve made a point to meet every one of Natalie’s teachers. I'll keep doing it, too, right up to her college professors. Until last night, no teacher of hers ever left me hanging by my own blue balls.

  Beyond hanging. More like consumed. Strung up.

  Blue's been in my wet dreams for the past couple weeks, even before last night. Ever since Nat's art enrichment class started, and I first laid eyes on her, I've lost my frigging mind.

  Something that can't keep happening if it leads to madness like last night.

  Hell, especially if it's like last night. Getting up close and way too personal for our own good.

  Slamming the truck door, I hit the key and flip on the air conditioning. It’ll take a minute to cool everything down, and then one more to make the sweat stop pouring off me.

  This job has been a sonofabitch. Most asbestos removal gigs are.

  They also make bank. I hadn’t even imagined the amount of money there was to be made in hazmat cleanup five years ago, when I had little more than a tool belt and a will to work long dreary hours.

  It’s paid off, and will continue to for years.

  As the temperature inside the truck drops, I reach over and pull my notebook out of the glove box. After meeting Ms. Derby that first night of art class, I’d gone out to the truck and made a quick sketch of her while Nat wasn't looking, still getting her stuff together.

  That's when I’d started calling her Blue, too, in my own twisted mind.

  I flip through the pages. Stare at my creations. Each sketch I’ve drawn since the first night has gotten more detailed.

  They all started out with her wearing clothes. The off white blouse and black skirt I've seen on her several times.

  Amazing how every sketch winds up with her naked. And in some interesting positions.

  Fuck.

  That kiss last night, the heat of her lips, the way she pressed up against me, keeps replaying in my mind. She’d tasted as good as I’d imagined. Felt even better.

  A dangerously fine young woman. A siren for a man who hasn't had a good solid fuck in eons.

  Things could've quickly gotten out of hand last night. Had we been someplace else. Had Nat not been there. Or the pissant who got us up on each other in the first place, Preston Asshole Graves.

  A faint shadow has me looking up, shoving the notebook back in the glovebox. I'm barely able to hide my dirty secret before the job site manager, Juan Lopez, pulls open the passenger door.

  “Removal’s done, Boss. We're just about free and clear.” Juan takes off his hat and wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “We’ll have the rest wrapped up within the hour.”

  “Good. That’s what I just told the owners.” I shake my head. “Why some people think they can cross the yellow tape's beyond me.” The two owners who’d just driven away had tried every excuse in the book to get inside the plastic shrouded area of the building my crew worked all day.

  “Thanks for coming down,” Juan says. “I told them they couldn’t come in, but all that did was make them insist on speaking to you.”

  “Never a problem, Juan. Some people just don’t understand the danger. I was in the area, anyway, bidding on another job.”

  Juan grins. I can pra
ctically see money in his eyes. “It’s been a good summer.”

  “And it’ll be a better fall. Especially now that we're the number one crime scene cleanup company in the area.”

  Juan puts his hat back on. “You’ll never hear me complain about working too much.”

  “I know, and I appreciate that.”

  “These fat paychecks are thanks enough.” Juan slaps the seat. “Gotta get back in there. See you later, Brent.”

  “Stay cool,” I say as he shuts the door. Noting the time on the radio, I glance up and watch Juan walk away.

  I’m happy to pay him top dollar. Because of him, I can afford to be the kind of father Nat deserves. Not just money wise, but time wise, too. I'm able to drive her to school every morning and pick her up each afternoon.

  Shifting into reverse, I back out of the parking lot and head for the highway. Blue should be too busy this evening for more run-ins.

  This isn't just about her. I need to speak to the Principal and make sure the key fob that Graves asshole somehow snatched gets found and deactivated.

  Natalie’s safety always comes first.

  I’ll pull her out of school in a heartbeat if they can’t guarantee this fuckery never happens again. It may be one of the most prestigious schools in the state, but their rankings don’t mean shit if safety isn't sacrosanct.

  There are bad people in this world.

  Bastard Phil, for one.

  The thought of that bald headed monster breathing down my neck for the hundredth time fills me with rage, but I can't fret over him. Nothing good will come from a trip down memory lane, either, or stepping on the many landmines lingering in the present.

  I call the school to set up a meeting with Bob Jacobs. Fifteen minutes.

  Whatever.

  Being a father has taught me plenty. In the past, I would've taken care of Preston Graves myself. Gladly.

  Probably would have run him out of town. But for Natalie, I follow the rules.

  For her, I'm a good man.

  Most of the time.

  Traffic is minimal, and I arrive with time to spare. I circle the parking lot once, looking for a faded blue Mustang convertible.

  It’s parked on the far side of the lot. I have half a mind to check if her doors are locked.