Page 4 of Home to You
But seeing her again in person? There was no preparing for that.
Her blonde hair was pulled into a low bun at the nape of her neck, a few pieces falling softly around her face. She wore a loose patterned blouse tucked into flowing wide-leg pants cinched at the waist by a thin leather belt, and even though it’d been a decade, I still remembered exactly how that waist felt under my hands. How she used to arch against me when I’d roll those lush hips over my cock straining against the zipper of my Wranglers.
My body responded before my brain could stop it, heat pooling low in my gut, as if no time had passed at all.
Get a grip, asshole, I admonished myself.You’re in a fucking school.
I dropped my hand from Cole’s shoulder and shoved it into my pocket—both to keep it from shaking and also to adjust myself as inobtrusively as possible. I took a breath, and another, willing my body to behave. Focused on the steady thrum of conversation around me, the clatter of shoes on tile, and the buzz of parents telling their children goodbye.
And then I heard her laugh.
The sound hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.
What the hell was she doing here? In Bridger Falls? At my son’s school?
That’s when the pieces clicked together. If she was back in town, that must mean her dream career back in Chicago hadn’t worked out.
I should have felt vindicated. Should have felt some satisfaction that the life she’d chosen over me—over us—had fallen apart. Instead, all I felt was the familiar ache of wanting something I couldn’t have.
When she turned away from her companion with a smile, her gaze landed on me. Her steps faltered, her lips parted, and her eyes widened. She stood there staring at me like I was a ghost for only two … three seconds, tops, but it felt like an eternity. Then she blinked, shook her head slightly, and continued forward.
I took a step back, instinctively putting more distance between us, but there was nowhere to go in the crowded hallway. I couldn’t just run away. My free hand clenched into a fist at my side.
When she stood in front of us, she looked down at my son, all trace of her surprise gone from her expression. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to look casual instead of like a man barely holding it together.
Her smile for him was wide and welcoming, and if I hadn’t seen her just stumble in her tracks like a record scratching, I never would have known she’d been thrown for a loop by my presence. “Hi there,” she said gently. “You must be Cole. I’m Ms. James.”
He nodded shyly, and she knelt to meet his eyes. “I like your shirt. We’ve got a dinosaur model in the classroom that I bet you’re gonna love.”
“Stegosaurus?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.
She smiled. “Close. But you’ll have to come see for yourself.”
Eden stood back up, and her eyes found mine again. This time, she didn’t flinch. Her expression was … unreadable. Once upon a time, I swore I could read all this woman’s expressions.
I gave her a nod. Nothing more. Then I turned and walked out of Cole’s new school before I could say something I’d regret, fighting the urge the entire time not to run.
I got back in my truck, gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles went white. My heart was pounding hard enough that I could hear its echo in my ears and feel it in my temples.
Ten years of telling myself I was over her. Ten years of choosing women who looked nothing like her—tall, lanky brunettes or redheads—anyone whose softness, whose smile didn’t remind me of what I’d lost. Anyone who didn't make my blood run hot just by existing in the same space.
But seeing her again? My body rememberedeverythingmy mind had tried to forget. The way she tasted. The sounds she made. The way she felt wrapped around me. I was thirty-three years old, and one look at Eden James still made me hard as a teenager.
She’s your son’s teacher, I told myself with a disgusted shake of my head.
As if I wasn’t reeling enough, that’s when the enormity of the situation really hit me—Eden James was Cole’s teacher. The one person who could destroy me all over again was going to be in our lives every single day. Parent-teacher conferences. School events. Drop-off and pickup. There was no avoiding her now.
I sucked in a shaky breath and started the truck. Ten years I’d managed to survive without her, and now the universe had dropped her right back into the center of my world. The universe had a fucked up sense of humor.
CHAPTER THREE
Clutchingmy travel mug filled with my favorite herbal tea blend, I made my way to the teacher’s lounge for our weekly post-school day staff meeting—my first since joining Wild Ridge Academy.
“Morning,” my colleague Lily whispered as I slid into the seat beside her. She was a fourth-grade teacher with a direct, no-nonsense personality, a dry sense of humor, and a rotating collection of resin woodland creature earrings that she made and sold on Etsy as a side hustle. Today’s were tiny foxes. “You look like hell. Need a snack?” she asked, offering me a granola bar from her purse.
“Thanks,” I muttered, accepting it and tearing it open. I ate nearly half of it in one large bite.
“You’re welcome. You had that look. Thought maybe you forgot to eat.”
