Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Suffice it to say, now things couldn’t get any worse.
But I was wrong. Again.
Bending down, I squinted at the destruction, not giving a damn about the fact that my brown knee-length dress danced in the air, exposing my new lace panties. There wasn’t anyone else in the parking lot to see them, and it wasn’t as if I was going to be flaunting them in front of Mr. Living With His Mom tonight.
“Oh, no, no, no…” I chanted breathlessly.
I heard a guttural growl. “Next time you bend over like this, Ms. G, make sure I’m not behind you, or it’ll end up on National Geographic: When Predators Strike.”
I slowly straightened, pushing my reading glasses up the bridge of my nose and scowling at Jaime Followhill as I took him in.
Jaime looked like the lovechild of Ryan Gosling and Channing Tatum, and I was not making this shit up. (Side note: This would be a great idea for a M/M romance novel. I’d totally read it, anyway.) Sandy-blond hair tied into a low, messy bun, indigo eyes, and the body of a male stripper. Seriously, the kid was so ripped, his guns were the size of fucking bowling balls. He was a walking, talking cliché of the prom king in a 90s movie. A baller who had every girl’s attention at All Saints High…
And his eyes were now on me as he strode closer to his very smashed ride.
He wore a tight gray Henley shirt that made his biceps and pecs stand out, slim dark denim, and high-top shoes that looked so expensive and tasteless you just knew P Diddy had to be behind that design. He had a few bruises on his arms and a fading black eye. I knew where he’d gotten them. Rumor was he and his stupid friends beat the shit out of each other on the weekends in a fight-club game they called Defy.
Guess Pretty Boy wasn’t too rich to be pushed around. I wondered if his mother knew about Defy.
Wait, did he ask me a question about my hamster? Or was it my hamstrings?
“Well, fuck me to the moon and back.” He stopped a few inches from our cars, releasing a wicked grin. It looked like the two cars had melded together. Like his SUV was giving birth to my ugly car through its rear end, and now the SUV’s significant other (Principal Followhill’s Lexus) was demanding a paternity test.
I taught Jaime, and he was one of the few kids that I could count on not to yell/scream/throw crap at people in English Lit. He wasn’t a good student by any stretch of the imagination, but he was too busy with his cell phone to make trouble in my class.
“Sorry.” I released a pained breath, my shoulders sagging in defeat.
He lifted the hem of his shirt and rubbed his perfect six-pack, stretching lazily and yawning at the same time. “Seems to me like I fucked your car up, Ms. Greene.”
Wait…what?
“You…” I cleared my throat, looking around to make sure it wasn’t a prank. “You fuck—I mean, you damaged my car?”
“Yeah. Bumped right into your ass. Pun intended, obvs.” He kneeled down, frowning at the spot where our two vehicles met. He brushed his tan palm over the shiny paint of his SUV.
Jaime made it sound like he was the one who’d crashed his car into mine. I had no idea why. He wasn’t even in his car. He’d just walked up. Maybe he wanted to blackmail me?
I considered myself a respectable teacher with a moral compass. But I also considered myself someone who would prefer not to bathe in the ocean and sleep in her car. That was exactly what I would need to do to survive the financial blow if I admitted to being at blame for hitting his expensive car.
“James…” I sighed, clutching onto the gold anchor necklace hanging around my neck.
He shook his head and raised his hand in the air. “So I screwed up your ride. Shit happens. Let me make it up to you.”
What. The. Heck?
I didn’t know what game he was playing. I just knew that he was probably better at it than I was. So, in true Melody Greene fashion, I turned around and walked straight back to my car, essentially running away from the situation like the little pussy that I was.
“Whoa, not so fast.” He chuckled as he grabbed me by the elbow and spun me around.
My eyes darted to his palm on my flesh. He lowered his hand, but it was too late. Butterflies somersaulted in my stomach, and my skin prickled with need. I was hot and bothered by one of my pupils.
Only Jaime Followhill wasn’t just any pupil. He was also a sex god.
There was gossip in the hallways of All Saints High to prove it, enough stories to compete with the length of the fucking Complete Works of Shakespeare. And that wasn’t the only things that were long and impressive about the guy if the rumors were true.