Fall for You (Flirting with Forever Book 4) Read online

  My voice is gruff when I respond before Becky can. “Just because your mom and I aren’t together anymore doesn’t mean we aren’t going to parent you together. It won’t always be easy, but we’ll figure it out. We’ll get accustomed to this new normal. For right now, we need to get your science grade back on track. You don’t want to have to repeat the class, do you?”

  With a swift jerk of her head, Olivia says, “No. Can I go to my room now?”

  Becky waves her off with another sigh. To her credit, she waits until Olivia is out of earshot before she rounds on me. “Jeez, Liam. How did you not know this was happening?” My ex-wife stalks into the kitchen and makes herself at home in my refrigerator, coming back with a bottle of water.

  I shake my head, running my hands over my face. “Honestly? I thought she was doing well enough. Her grades the first two quarters weren’t stellar, but I just chalked it up to moving and getting situated in a new town, home, and school. I guess the first half of the second semester has been more difficult for her. She hasn’t said a word about it. This is the first I knew of an issue.”

  Becky rolls her eyes. “Well, do you think she should come back and stay with me? Is something wrong? Does she have friends? Is she participating in extracurriculars?” She doesn’t even wait for answers before hitting me with the best question of all, but one I knew was coming. “Are you paying enough attention to her, or is all of your energy going into the cider mill?”

  “Are you kidding me right now?” I growl, staring at her. I know Becky has our daughter’s best interests at heart and I really try to keep that in mind as I respond, but damn. “Look, I’m doing the best I can. You’re busier than I am, so no, I don’t think sending her back to you is a good plan. Not to mention she’s had enough upheaval for a while.” I pause a beat, waiting for her to argue if she feels like it. She’s a lawyer, always good at arguing her point. Surprisingly, though, she’s silent. “You know, for the first time in a long time, I’m happy. I’m at peace with how my life is progressing. Olivia and I are getting along just fine. I can take care of this if you can’t make the meeting. After all, I’m the one who will be dealing with it full-time. We’re used to doing it without you.” Shit. I hadn’t meant for that to come out as a verbal slap, but it had, and she stiffens visibly.

  “I could deny my work schedule would cause problems, but that would just be a lie. Look, I don’t want to fight with you over this. I’ll be at the meeting, and I would appreciate you giving me a heads-up if any other issues arise.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  With a curt nod, she backs toward the door. “Okay. I’ll see you both on Tuesday at eleven thirty.”

  “Yep. We’ll meet you at school.” I shoot her a slightly pained smile and wave as she opens the door and exits.

  Chapter 3

  Liam

  Becky is all business when we meet her Tuesday outside the school. She ushers Olivia to the main door, pulling it open for her. “Let’s get in there and see what your teacher has to say. What’s her name again?” We move as a unit past the front office and down the hallway toward the science wing, Becky’s heels clicking sharply on the tiled floor the whole way.

  Olivia lets out an uncomfortable breath and grumbles, “It’s Ms. Lockmore.”

  “And what’s she like, honey? Do you like her as a teacher?” Becky glances back at me, as if I hold all the answers.

  Trust me when I say I’d tried to talk to Olivia about the whole predicament, but she’d clammed up, stating how she had lots of work to catch up on before holing up in her room for the rest of the weekend.

  Teenage girls are … difficult, at best. I love my daughter, but I wish I understood her a bit better. It sure would make life easier, anyway.

  We pass by quite a few classrooms, my ex-wife and daughter in front of me. These two are such polar opposites. Becky’s back is ramrod straight, and she’s obviously dressed to the nines for a court session later today. Her hair is swept into some sort of complicated updo, and I’d noticed her very carefully applied makeup earlier when she’d gotten out of her BMW. Olivia, on the other hand, is slouching and dragging her feet like she’s headed to her execution. Her jeans are slightly baggy and tattered at the hem, and I’ve just noticed a ragged hole peeking out of the armpit of her T-shirt. I guess the kid needs some new clothing. I file that in the back of my head as one more thing to do. I know the holey shirt happens to be one of Olivia’s favorites, a Panic! At the Disco shirt from a concert we’d attended together. I smile, doubting she’d actually get rid of it even when we do purchase new clothing for her.

  I’m so damn glad I don’t have to dress in any particular way for work anymore. The cider mill I’ve opened is much more relaxed than my previous job in the technology industry, which required suits for meetings. The reality is that I own the place, so I wear what I want. I’m glad to be done with all the stuffy attire required for board meetings and am perfectly comfortable in dark jeans and a button-down shirt most days. I just roll up my sleeves and get to work.

  We approach the last door on the right and Olivia points at it nervously, her soft gaze darting to me. “That’s the classroom.”

  “Let’s get this done, then, baby girl.” I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

  Becky gives a sharp rap to the door, and we wait until we hear a “Come in” from the other side. The voice seems somewhat familiar, but I shake it off; I must recognize it from the recorded video lessons I’ve heard Olivia watching and re-watching as part of her homework assignments. In fact, earlier this week, I’d heard a portion of a lab experiment Olivia had been watching on her laptop at the kitchen table while I cooked dinner.

  Olivia and Becky precede me into the room. As I enter, I can only see the top of the teacher’s head beyond theirs. I must have blinked just before they step aside because when I open my eyes, I’m completely barreled over.

  My heart takes off at a gallop.

  I’m speechless.

  Floored.

  Bewildered.

  Standing before me, her hand outstretched in greeting, is who I know must be Ms. Lockmore, the biology teacher. All that screams through my mind, though, is Holy shit, what is my hotter-than-hell hookup doing here? Because that’s exactly who this is—Quinn, gorgeous, enchanting Quinn, who has been out to my cider mill several times in the last month, first with her friends and a couple of times since on her own.

  I’m not sure how long I stare at her with my mouth agape—it could have been a split second or a few minutes for all I know. Stunned and shocked, I can’t think or say anything remotely coherent. It’s like my brain is jammed, and I’m incapable of deciphering exactly how I’m supposed to react to this troublesome surprise.

  Slowly, I come to my senses and take her hand, giving it a quick shake. Those hands. They’re that of a supposed stranger, but are familiar all the same. Oh, fuck. Memories of the night she’d come back to pick up her friend’s gloves and hat assail me from all sides. Her smile, her arched brow, her come-hither stare … I give myself a quick internal shake. I’m not sure how to handle this. How do I ignore the echoes of one of the hottest nights of my life so that I can actually talk to her? How do we do this without having to explain to Becky why we’re acting oddly toward one another? Because I don’t know how I’m supposed to look this woman in the eye when I know she’s partial to front-clasp bras and lace panties. If there’s a divine power, I really wish it would intervene right about now on my behalf and somehow make this easier for me.

  I clear my throat roughly as I look into her unique light-hazel eyes for the first time—today. What I see there makes me more than a little nervous. She’s hiding unsettled panic, though she’s making a valiant attempt to rein it in. I sure hope she can hold herself together until we get through this. “Hello, Ms. Lockmore. I’m Olivia’s dad, Liam. We exchanged e-mails last week.”

  “So we did. It’s nice to meet both of you.” She smiles first at me, then at Becky. There’
s a slight tremor to her lips, and I notice her hands are a little shaky right before she tucks them into the pockets of her navy dress pants.

  It’s a mistake to allow my eyes to follow the path her hands took because they zoom right to the slight curve of her hips before traveling the long, long length of her slim legs. They stop to study the pair of kick-ass heels she’s wearing. My eyes then flick back up to her face when she asks Olivia if she’d like to go get a snack from the vending machine in the gym, her treat.

  Olivia’s eyes light up, but she silently questions me and Becky. At our nods of approval, she answers with delight, “Yes, please.” It’s almost comical how relieved she looks, like she’s been given a get-out-of-jail-free card in the form of a one-dollar bill.

  Ms. Lockmore—aka the woman whose lips taste of peppermint-flavored lip balm—gives her a reassuring smile. “Give us fifteen minutes, then come back and join us, and we’ll discuss a few things with you.” She pauses, studying Olivia’s pale, freckled face. “Everything will be fine. I’d just like a chance to speak to your parents alone for a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” Olivia pinches the dollar bill that Quinn extends toward her between two fingers and shuffles back out the door, her Converse squeaking on the tiled floor as she rounds the corner.

  Quinn gestures to the seats arranged across from her desk before she walks behind it and has a seat in her office chair. She pulls her laptop toward her, and after a few clicks, she turns the screen to where we can see. “So, Olivia started out the year fairly average. She was a high-C or low-B student most of the time.” As she looks back and forth between Becky and me, she chews on her bottom lip.

  Her plump, delicious, soft, minty lip.

  “I didn’t notice a definitive change until this last nine-week period when her grades really started to slip. Her homework wasn’t always coming in, and her quiz and test grades this quarter are undeniably lower than they have been.”

  Becky’s brows draw together. “Well, is the subject material all of a sudden more difficult? Is she possibly just a little lost and needs more study time?”

  “No. I wouldn’t say so, not about it being more difficult, anyway. I mean, it’s tenth-grade biology. Most students do just fine. And the thing is, I’d say your Olivia is smarter than the average student.” A slow smile crosses her face. “But then, I’m sure you’re aware that she’s intelligent.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Sure. She’s always been a bright kid. I don’t understand what’s happened.” I steal a glance at Becky before my gaze swings back to Quinn. “Despite whatever is going on, the reality is right now she has an F. What can her mother and I do to help? What would you suggest?”

  I badly want to yank Quinn into the hallway and ask her how I didn’t know she was a teacher at my kid’s school, much less how I didn’t know she’s a teacher who interacts with my child multiple times a week. How has this never come up? How did we not realize?

  Right, Liam. Easy answer. You were both way too busy using your mouths for things other than talking.

  Quinn takes a deep breath before folding her hands together and placing them on the desk in front of her. “She has plenty of assignments she can make up for extra points.” She points to a couple of spots on the screen where the assignment is followed by a zero. “And I feel like she’s somehow been distracted during class. I’m not completely sure by what, but I think she could probably benefit from a few after-school tutoring sessions.”

  Becky immediately asks, “Tell me about tutoring. Would that be with you?”

  Not what I was going to ask about first. My ex-wife and I seem to have grasped onto different parts of what Quinn has just said, seeing different things as more important.

  Quinn shakes her head. “Usually we buddy them up with an older student who is looking to earn some extra credit or service hours for their college applications.”

  “But what if we want you?” Becky grits her teeth together.

  Uh-oh. I can tell already; she’s just gone into lawyer mode and is prepared to do whatever it takes to get what she wants. She’s feisty like that.

  Quinn blanches. “Oh. Um, well. I have a commitment after school most days—” Her eyes flick to mine, her smile tight.

  Becky nods. “I get that maybe this isn’t the norm, but we’d pay you. We understand your time and expertise are valuable.”

  Only my ex-wife would attempt to buy our daughter’s teacher. I prop my forearms on my thighs and look down at the floor, slowly shaking my head.

  “I—”

  Poor Quinn.

  “We can do three hundred per session.” Becky offers a quick smile, game face still on.

  “Oh. Um.” Quinn’s eyes practically bug out of her head, and she glances at me, catching the corner of her lip between her teeth. Great. Now Becky’s made the whole scenario more uncomfortable by adding a shit ton of money into the equation.

  Time for me to step in. I look up, glancing between the two women. “We should ask Olivia if being tutored is something she’s willing to try before making any formal plans.” I run my hand over my stubbled jawline. “I’d like to know if you have an idea about what’s distracting her or what could be worrying her enough while she’s in class that she’d not be paying attention.”

  Quinn grimaces. “I haven’t noticed anything, but I will definitely be watching more carefully now. I can let you know what I observe. It could be just about anything. I mean, it’s high school. Maybe she’s interested in someone in the class. Or someone she’s not interested in is bothering her?” She shrugs. “Maybe something is happening in another class. I can put out feelers, and I’ll definitely double-check with her guidance counselor. Could it be something at home that’s bothering her?”

  Becky and I exchange a look, and I totally interpret hers as, Is this your fault?

  How the hell am I supposed to know? I close my eyes briefly and draw in a breath. When I open my eyes, Quinn’s watching me, her astute focus totally on me. “I don’t think it’s anything at home, but we’ll try to talk to her.”

  Quinn nods. “Okay. I’ll keep my eyes open, too.” She sighs, giving us a confused smile. “I like your daughter a lot, but lately, it’s like she’s here but her mind is elsewhere.”

  Olivia knocks on the open door, standing hesitantly with a bag of chips in hand. “Is it okay for me to come in now?”

  Quinn gives her a bright smile—markedly different from the ones laced with confusion and worry that she’s been exchanging with us—and replies, “Of course, Olivia. We were just talking about arranging some tutoring sessions, if you’re up for it. I could do Wednesdays after school, if you’re willing.”

  Becky cuts in, “Of course, all the tutoring in the world won’t be effective if you’re not willing to put anything into it, so keep that in mind. Your dad and I are willing to support you in this, but you have to meet us halfway.”

  Olivia shifts around, clearly uncomfortable at the insinuation that she wouldn’t put her best foot forward.

  “I tell you what, why don’t we talk about it at home and get back to Ms. Lockmore tomorrow.” My voice is gruff. I really dislike it when Becky is a hard-ass with our daughter.

  Olivia’s eyes cast down. She murmurs, “Okay, Dad.”

  Becky focuses back on Quinn. “We’ll talk some more with Olivia and get back to you. Could I get your number? We can call or text you with our final decision.”

  Quinn grabs a pad of paper from the corner of her desk, jots down her number, and hands it to Becky.

  Oh, the irony. My ex-wife has the number of the woman I’ve been … seeing? Is that even the right word? Honestly, I guess it is. We haven’t been dating, just sort of seeing each other. And kissing each other.

  Quinn stands, as do Becky and I, and we make our way to the doorway where Olivia still hovers. I turn to Quinn, and open my mouth to say thank you, but I can’t get the words out. My eyes connect with hers, and I try to silently communicate so many things with her. />
  I’m sorry.

  This was beyond awkward.

  I hate that our worlds have collided like this.

  Becky holds out a hand again. “Thank you, Ms. Lockmore. We’ll be in touch soon.”

  The words “Thank you,” rasp from my throat. I lift a hand and give a half-hearted wave as I gather Olivia under my arm and walk away.

  My heart thrums heavily with the realization that my life is about to get a whole hell of a lot more complicated.

  Chapter 4

  Quinn

  I’m in mini-meltdown mode. O-M-G is he married? I sink back into my chair and try my best to think back to everything that was just said at the meeting and everything he’s ever said when we’ve been alone. Of course, that last bit doesn’t take long—we don’t talk much. He’d referred to Becky as Olivia’s mother. He hadn’t said wife, but I don’t know if that’s odd considering we were here to discuss his daughter, not his relationship with the other woman in the room. And definitely not to discuss whatever relationship he has with me. Relationship? Ha! I don’t know if you could classify what we did as a relationship.

  I let out a choked laugh that actually frightens me. Oh my God, I’m going to go insane trying to wade my way through this mess. I guess we’ll just see what happens from here. Shit, shit, shit. I’d agreed to tutor his daughter. I’d agreed to be paid for it. There is no way that if she’s staying after school that one of them isn’t coming to pick Olivia up. She’s only a sophomore. Not old enough to drive yet, I don’t think.

  My breath hitches as my mind whirs back to January, to Hadleigh’s birthday dinner at the cider mill on the night I lost my ever-loving mind.

  I park in the empty lot knowing the cider mill might already be closed. It’s eleven thirty, so on the off chance that they are still open, I zip my coat and flip up the hood. Bracing myself for the cold chill of the night, I open my door, slip out of my Xterra, and dash to the heavy oak door. I knock once. Wait. Shiver. Great, it’s freaking freezing out here. What the hell was I thinking?