B U RN F O R Y O U

AM AND A B AI LE Y
Burn for You © Copyright 2020 by Amanda Bailey

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 C O NT E NT S

Credits

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
SNEAK PEEK: Fall for You

Also by Amanda Bailey

Also by Amanda Bailey
Dear Reader
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Author
 C RE D IT S

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C HA PTER 1
 PIPE R

I’m distracted. Again. Very hot, and very bothered. I’m unable to
concentrate fully on the conversation flowing around me, and it’s all
because of a man I’ve never met. Not in person, anyway. We’ve been
talking on this silly dating app I signed up for a few weeks ago.
The app is called Tryst, which sounds a little flirty—and a whole lot
dirty—to me, but I’m desperate. In fact, I’ve been single for so long, I’m
beginning to think there just isn’t a guy out there for me. I haven’t met
anyone in the last five years who I’d actually like to date. Day in and
day out, I work with my students, go home, grade papers, go to bed.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat. That’s why I decided to give the app a try.
The other reason why I’d said goodbye to my dignity and gone for
it was this: in the last couple of months, I’d watched two of my friends
fall hard for the sweetest guys, and it really got me thinking. Maybe
he’s out there. Maybe I’m overlooking him. Or maybe he’s just one town
over—waiting for me, just like I’m waiting for him.
I’d created a profile on Tryst to test the waters and see who I could
find. I want to make a real connection, so I’d hesitated to attach a photo
to my profile because I don’t want to rely on photos alone. Let’s face it,
people use old photos from ten years or ten pounds ago, they apply
filters, or they use someone else’s photo entirely. Anything to make
themselves look good.
The kind of person who would stoop to doing that is not for me
anyway, so I’d just put a cute little avatar of myself on there and
crossed my fingers that my sparkling personality would attract someone
—the right someone. There’s got to be a guy out there who wants to get
to know me based on the information I’d left in my profile, right?
A hint into who I am and what I’m looking for is in my username—
Sherlock4Love. I’m just a girl, who obsesses over all things Sherlock with
a passion, looking for love.
At first, I’d received a lot of questions from curious individuals,
especially about the username—was I male or female? They couldn’t tell,
even though it was right there in my profile. Seriously, people. Just read.
Take thirty seconds to actually look at my profile before you ask me
something that’s right in front of your nose.
I’ll admit, that didn’t give me much hope. I’m not terribly patient
with people who don’t use the brains they were given. In fact, I’m
downright picky when it comes to men because of it, and I know it. I
like them smart, kind, and thoughtful—and it wouldn’t hurt if they’re
attractive, too. I can’t let just any yahoo near my hoo-ha, now can I?
As my friends continue to talk about anything and everything under
the sun, my phone vibrates with incoming messages from the Tryst app.
With a quick glance down, I see Prof.M. has responded to my question
and is ready to discuss.
Yes. Somehow, within a twenty-mile radius, there is someone out
there who is as nerdy about Sherlock as I am. Prof.M. stands for
Professor Moriarty, who, in the stories, is Sherlock’s archenemy. I didn’t
let that fact stop me—I’d been a little unsure at first, but my curiosity
outweighed my fear. It became clear from our very first interaction that
he was someone I needed to know better.
 I sneak a peek down at my phone while my friends are still gabbing
about Hadleigh and her new boyfriend, Sawyer.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: You realize there are more than seventy-five

actors who have portrayed Sherlock, right?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: And you want me to narrow that down to
my favorite?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Okay. I’m going to have to go with
Cumberbatch, then.

I smirk. Of course he’d choose Benedict Cumberbatch. Based on our

earlier conversations, he seems to like anything that’s new and shiny.
Me? I prefer the classics—gotta be at least twenty-five years since filming.
When we’d first messaged back and forth, he’d asked me if I preferred
the original Sir Arthur Conan Doyle stories or the movies. Well, duh. I’m
an English teacher, so of course I prefer the books. Not that he knows
that I’m an English teacher—we haven’t gotten quite that far yet, and at
the moment, I’m more comfortable keeping an air of anonymity.
What cracks me up the most is here I am, all flustered and excited
about our messages, and they aren’t even remotely personal. They’re
nowhere near sexy or provocative. Just a whole lot of Sherlock talk, so
far. Maybe it should be a clue to me that this isn’t going anywhere.
Except—I guess it shouldn’t surprise me—intellectual talk about my
favorite topic actually turns me the hell on. Deep breaths. And now I
can’t help but think about what the guy looks like. My mind goes
haywire, envisioning a ruggedly masculine face, hard pecs, muscled
shoulders and arms, abs to die for, and a cock that just won’t quit. I
make a little noise at the back of my throat which I don’t quite manage
to conceal. Shit.
 Sophia, always hyperaware of everything going on in our group—our
resident mother hen—raises one perfectly arched eyebrow at me. “Piper,
who the heck is texting you?”
“You’ve been off in your own world for the last five minutes.” Zoey
nudges me with a frown. I can tell she’s got her guidance counselor
focus trained on me, and it makes me squirm.
With an embarrassed shrug, I set my phone face down on the table
in front of me. “Sorry. It’s just a friend I’ve been keeping in touch with.”
I scramble to pick up my coffee cup and take a sip, casting my eyes
downward.
I can sense everyone’s attention on me. I have no idea if they bought
that or not. I haven’t had the nerve to tell anyone else yet that I’m on
Tryst. Is online dating even still the “cool” thing to do? I have no idea.
I’m at the end of the road, though. The end of my rope, even.
Desperately seeking some sort of connection.
“So, what’s going on with the department chair selection?” Madison,
our resident librarian, gives me a curious look. “I don’t even understand
how the whole department chair thing works since I don’t technically
have a department to belong to.”
“I guess Jake just has to put a name forward as his suggestion.” I
bite my lip and shrug as I stare at the trace of lipstick I’d left on the
rim of my mug, running my thumb over it and wiping it away. “I think
he said he was expected to submit the name by the end of this quarter.”
Quinn cocks her head to the side. “But surely there’s stuff that you
can do to maybe … sway his opinion?” She snorts. “Gotta say, I’m kind of
glad Heath isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I’m perfectly happy to let
him lead the science department. Aren’t you, Sophia?”
She grins big. “Well, yeah. And I have our wedding to plan, so he
needs to keep bringing in that little bit of extra money.”
 I take another sip of my coffee and my eyes flick around the group.
“I guess I’m just going to do my job the best I can, and do anything
Jake asks of me to the best of my ability, you know?” I shake my head.
“I just never dreamed that I’d end up having to fight for it.”
Madison blows out a breath as she covers my hand with hers on the
table. “And no one is bringing up the elephant in the room.”
“Since when is Damon an elephant?” Hadleigh giggles. “He’s more
like a stud. A very sexy stud.”
“That man is like a force of nature.” Quinn eyes me carefully. “He
definitely knows what he wants and goes after it.” Her lips tug up on
one side in a grimace. “I hope he doesn’t railroad you out of the
position.”
Zoey winces at the idea, absentmindedly playing with the locket on
her necklace. “How well do you get along? I mean, your schedules are
identical—you must spend your lunch and planning period together
almost every single day.”
“Meh. He likes to argue.” I shake my head with a pained groan.
“And he thinks he’s always right. Always knows the best course of
action to take. Always knows how to fix a problem. It’s kind of
frustrating most of the time.”
Sophia taps her chin with her fingertip, smiling. “You know that’s
because you think you’re right.”
I wave my hands in exasperation. “Hello? That’s because I am. He’s
one of those ridiculous alpha males who refuses to believe any way but
their way might be right.”
Hadleigh looks to be on the verge of laughter. “Well, personally, I
don’t know how you do it. I try not to look at him while I’m in the
workroom with him.”
My brow furrows. “What? Why not?”
She giggle-snorts. “I’m afraid I’ll get pregnant. He seems … virile.”
 I roll my eyes. “Ugh, stop. He’s such a pain in my ass right now.”
“Well, if there’s anything we can do to help you, let us know.”
Sophia shrugs her slim shoulders.
Quinn sets down her coffee mug with a thump. “Well, I can’t wait
to see how this all plays out.”
“I can’t believe I have a front-row seat to the whole thing right there
in our workroom.” Hadleigh hides her smile with her hand, then throws
me an apologetic glance.
I’m glad she’s amused. She’d better hope as the competition heats up
between Damon and me that it doesn’t blow up right in our faces or
she’ll get caught in the fallout.
“You’re way too giddy about it, Had. Let’s talk about something else.
I’m just … done.”
From the way the quiet settles over our table, I can tell they know
I’m a little thrown by the whole conversation.
Madison clears her throat. “Um. So, who wants to go try out the
new barre class at the gym after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays?
They’ve got a new instructor and I thought it sounded kind of fun.”
“Wait, what kind of class?” I wrinkle my nose. Bar class?
“You know, barre—like ballet for non-ballerinas.”
Multiple pairs of eyes around the table finally light with
understanding.
“I used to do ballet. Sounds fun to me.” Quinn nods and sets down
her mug. “I’m in.”
I squint at her, my lips pursed. “And you have the body for it, too—
all tall and skinny.”
“Piper, you have a banging body. What are you moping about?”
Hadleigh frowns, her forehead creasing.
Zoey pokes me in the upper arm. “Yeah, you’re adorable.”
 I pout and point down at my sides. “My hips. I’ve never liked ’em. I
swear, if I’d lived a century ago, I would have made, like, twenty
babies.” My hands clench for a second before they release.
We all look at each other before we start snickering. Through our
gales of laughter, I hear Madison whisper-shout, “She’s got birthing
hips!” More giggles ensue.
Once we’ve finally calmed, Hadleigh gives me her signature naughty
grin. “That’s a lot of babies, Piper. Sounds like you need to find the
right man for that job.”
My hand freezes on my mug. I feel a tiny bit like a bad friend since
I haven’t shared Prof.M. with them yet, but I’m just not ready. My body
steadily warms as I think about the man who’s been making me laugh
and smile lately, and I wonder what he’s like …
In bed.
Yes I know, I haven’t even met him. Haven’t looked into his eyes.
Yet, somehow, I know that if it ever happens, it could be amazing. I
pick my phone up off the table, desperately trying to avoid giving in
and checking my messages.
I want to know if it’s him lighting up my phone, but I don’t dare
look or everyone will want to know exactly who it is I’m chatting with.
And they’ll know something is up because when I message him, I tend
to grin like a lunatic. I can’t help myself.
With an exaggerated sigh, I steer us back to our conversation about
the barre class and acquiesce. “Okay, I’ll go to that barre class. Who else
is in?”
Quinn raises a hand. “I already said I’d do it. It’ll be fun.”
“Anyone else in?” Madison sits up, clapping her hands, excited to
have us join her.
Sophia laughs. “Hard pass. I just don’t have time with wedding
planning. You all have fun with it, though.”
 “Zoey? Hadleigh?”
Zoey wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. you guys know me. I’m always at
school until at least six. I don’t want to promise I’ll be there and then be
a no-show.”
Hadleigh gives us her best yikes face. “You know, I wish I could, but
time alone with Sawyer is kind of precious right now.”
Madison looks at me, then at Quinn. “Okay, then, ladies. I guess it’s
the three of us. Be at the gym at four on Tuesday. We’ll see what it’s all
about.”
I nod absentmindedly as I flip my phone over and glance down at
Prof.M.’s latest message, already distracted. Again.
C HA PTER 2
 D A M ON

When I hear the bang of the door behind me, I know she’s caught me
red-handed. I shrug it off, knowing I probably should feel terrible that
I’m about to do this to her, but the department chair position is at stake.
I want it badly—need it, really—and I’m not going to let my know-it-all
coworker Piper just have the position because she thinks she’s entitled to
it. Yes, she’s worked here longer, but we are equally qualified for the job.
Piper pulls her chair out from under her desk, which is
inconveniently located right next to mine, and drops into it. I can see
out of the corner of my eye that she’s attempting to figure out what I’m
doing without being completely obvious about it.
She rolls her chair a little closer, and her lips part in surprise. “What
are you doing, Damon?”
I shuffle the documents I’d been reviewing back together into a neat
stack. “Just looking over the curriculum for any tweaks we’d like to
make, like Jake asked us to.”
With a loud huff, she pokes my arm. “Jake said we should do that
together. You know, as a team? Are you not a team player, Damon?”
“Eh, I work better alone. I’ll share my thoughts when I’m done.
Someone has to take the lead.” I smirk at her. “Apparently, that someone
is me.”
 Uh-oh. I glance away from her shocked expression and smile to
myself. Seems like I’ve pissed off the Piper beast.
Her brows raise, and she narrows her eyes at me. “What? Like you’re
just going to make plans and hope I’ll go along with it?” She grumbles
loudly, leaning closer to get a glimpse of my notes. “Lemme see what
you’re doing.”
I chuckle at her fussing. “I guess I’ll just have to convince you that
my ideas are the best ones. Worried Jake will figure out I have better
suggestions than you? Don’t want to let him know that what we present
to him are my recommendations and not yours?”
“No, because I’ll share my proposal with him as well. I think you
just enjoy being a thorn in my side. You know what?” Her exhale is
forced through her nose as she shakes her head. “Never mind. Forget it.”
“No, what? What were you going to say?” I want her to tell me why
she’s so damn bent out of shape. I’d told her I’d fill her in when I’m
done. I’m no slouch. I think I've developed great ideas to improve how
we’ve been structuring our classes. I definitely don’t want us to get into
a rut. Students these days lose interest quickly unless teachers can come
up with innovative ways to hold their attention. That’s what I’m after—
revamping how we do things to get better results.
“I don’t think you get it. This was all but guaranteed to be my
position until you showed up. I don’t appreciate you going over my
head on stuff like this or purposely not including me.”
I cock my head to the side, studying her. She’s all fired up, her face
quickly turning beet red, breath coming fast. “So, you’d prefer the
position was handed to you? I can’t believe that. Don’t tell me you’re
afraid of a little competition, Piper.”
She crosses her arms and flounces back in her chair. “No. I’d just
prefer not to have to compete with you.”
 I hold my hands out, palms up, my eyes boring into hers. “Why not?
What’s the matter, princess? Think I might be better suited to lead the
department?” I fucking love to push her buttons. She’s so easily irritated.
She mumbles to herself as she rolls her chair back over to her desk.
“What an egomaniac. So self-centered.”
She knows damn well I can hear her, and she’s starting to get on
my nerves, so I jab right back at her. “And you’re spoiled. Did Mommy
and Daddy always hand you everything you wanted? Is that what the
problem is?”
“You—you have no idea what you’re talking about, Damon!” She
rockets out of her seat, hands on her hips, glaring at me. I have her so
worked up, I’d swear if I got close enough to her, I would probably see
the flames flickering in her eyes.
I try to hold back the smirk forming on one corner of my lips. And
she riles me up like no one else does. I have a feeling I’ll end up
spending the whole damned weekend at the gym pummeling a bag, or
better yet, my sparring partner, just to work out the frustration.
My eyes drift from her fired-up expression to her long, dark hair. My
gaze travels the length of it, ending just below her breasts. She’s got on
a white button-down shirt that seems tailor-made for her, tucked into a
bright-pink skirt at her tiny waist. My gaze skims over her full, lush
hips and down her legs to a pair of black heels. Judging by the way she
dresses, she doesn’t know what it’s like to want for anything.
Her teeth clamp down on her lip. “I’m going to go make some copies.
I’ll be back in a little bit and we can discuss. Maybe I can knock some
sense into you.”
I shrug in a way I know will annoy her. “Whatever you need to do,
princess.”
“Stop calling me princess, you jerk.” She leaves the same way she
came in, with a bang of the door.
 Shaking my head at her antics, I pull my phone out of my pocket
and log into the Tryst app.
I’ll admit, it was not my idea in the first place to sign up for an
account. My sister, Arabella, is four years younger than I am and
suggested I try out this new dating app when she had luck with it. She
met the guy she’s currently dating on it, so naturally, she thinks it’s
going to work for me, too. She'd even created my profile—including a
Moriarty avatar I would not have selected—without my knowledge. My
phone started getting weird notifications, and I thought it had some sort
of bug at first. Once Arabella admitted to what she’d done, I’d gotten …
well, curious, I guess.
When I’d first seen some of the messages, I’d been like fuck no and
had gotten rid of them quickly. But then one particular person intrigued
me. Sherlock4Love. She’d been cautious at first, asking if Prof.M. really
meant what she thought it did. Through our mutual love of all things
Sherlock Holmes, a friendship started to blossom. Friendship might be the
wrong word. We discuss. We debate. We argue. A lot. But she’s smarter
than hell, and I enjoy locking horns with her over everything related to
our favorite character.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I’m in the mood for an argument. I figure

I’m better off bickering with you over Sherlock stuff than strangling
someone IRL.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: LOL, well, we never did finish our
discussion about who portrayed Sherlock best. I’m going with Jeremy
Brett. He played Sherlock for ten years in the 90s. It’s a very classic
adaptation. He starred in forty-two of the original Sir Arthur Conan
Doyle stories, and they were set in the original time period. I don’t know
how you top that.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I still say no one can compete with Benedict
Cumberbatch’s modern take on Sherlock. He’s the man.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Agree to disagree, then. I still like a classic
better.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: You can’t deny that women love
Cumberbatch. I’m surprised you don’t, too.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Don’t get me wrong—he’s okay. He’s just
not the best interpretation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s character.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: If you say so. The other guy seems old and
too stiff.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: C-L-A-S-S-I-C
C HA PTER 3
 PIPE R

Over the weekend, my exchanges with Prof.M. had gotten the tiniest
bit … dirty. Funny how just his words can get me all hot and bothered. I
think we both must have been bored because I’d spent a lot of time
messaging him. An inordinate amount of time, really. It would be
embarrassing to the extreme if he turns out to not be the someone special
I think he could be.
I glance down over our messages on the Tryst app. It all started
innocently enough …

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Maybe this is going to completely change

our little online relationship … but can I ask what you look like? Your
profile just says you’re 26.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I am 26, correct … and I see you’re 29.
Neither of us has an actual photo posted. You sure you want to destroy
whatever illusion you’ve created in your head? Could be dangerous.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I’ll admit I’ve been daydreaming about you
—what you might look like. It has me curious.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Is that all you’ve been daydreaming about?
Just what I look like?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Maybe not the only thing. But tell me. I
want to know what you look like so I can build on the fantasy.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: If you’re sure … brunette, long, straight hair,
brown eyes, fair skin.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Tan. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Six feet tall. I
work out a lot.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’m average height for a woman, but I like
wearing heels, so I always appear taller than I am.

And then because I couldn’t help myself, because need raced right
through my veins, because some uncontrollable force moved me, I’d gone
there. Yes. This next bit was definitely all on me. All. My. Fault.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: What would you do if we were to meet?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Besides arguing with you, you mean? Which
I fucking love doing, by the way …
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Yes. I want to know what you’d want to do
first.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I’d probably sink my fingers into that long
hair of yours, cradle your head in my hands, and kiss you until you’re
breathless and the taste of you infiltrates every last corner of my mind.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Professor. You have a way with words, sir.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I like it.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I like you. Continue our fantasy, please.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I’d mustered courage I didn’t even know I
had … and being hidden behind my phone made what I’d said next a
little easier. My hands begin to sweat as I reread the next portion of our
exchange.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’d put my hands on you, use my tongue to
lick you everywhere.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Damn. That happened fast.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Too much?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I’ll never get enough.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Is it weird that just your words make me
wet?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Oh, hell. Did you just tell me your panties
are wet?
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: What panties?

I huff a laugh at myself. I can’t believe I’d been so bold. I mean, I

kind of want to meet this guy at some point, and I’ve gone and shown
him a side of myself I wasn’t aware even existed until just now. It’s
something he’s bringing out in me. I’ve spent way too many evenings
alone thinking of all the things we could do together. And clearly, it’s
been way, way too long since I’ve had a date.
“What the hell is going on?” Hadleigh slows as she comes in, eyeing
me carefully. She drops the copies she’d just finished making on her
desk, crosses the room to me, and perches on Damon’s seat. When she
grabs my hands, her expression becomes even more concerned. “Your face
is bright pink, and your hands are sweaty. Spill.”
I glance up as Sawyer walks into the workroom and sits down at his
desk, his back to us.
I lean in and whisper, “You can’t say anything to anyone. I’m a
smidge embarrassed.”
Hadleigh’s head rears back, and she gives me a funny look. “Explain
yourself, sister.”
I really feel like bolting out of here and ignoring the whole situation,
but I know darned well Hadleigh would be hot on my heels, needing to
know what has calm, level-headed me in freak-out mode. “It’s bad. So
bad. I, um, I downloaded this dating app. And I’ve been talking to this
guy.” I suck in a breath, my emotions bouncing around like a Ping-Pong
ball inside my head. I don’t know if I should say anything else. But this
is Hadleigh. She’s the queen of innuendo, loves to talk about sex, and
frankly, if anyone would understand, it would be her. “I’ve just been
channeling my inner Hadleigh and letting her rip all over the place.”
She snorts, her mouth dropping open on a laugh. “Really? Like
you’ve found a flirting partner? Or is it more like a sexting partner?”
I nod, ready to own up to it. “It started as the first and now it’s
both, but I’m more nervous about the latter.” I allow my teeth to sink
into my lip while I wait for her reaction.
“That’s freaking amazing,” Hadleigh whisper-shouts, then slaps her
hands over her mouth, eyes wide.
Sawyer clears his throat, back still to us. “What’s the app called?”
“Dammit, Sawyer. You weren’t supposed to hear that.” I grimace,
wrinkling my nose, as I stare at his back. His shoulders are jerking up
and down a bit, and I’m certain he’s trying not to laugh out loud. Oh,
well. What’s a little laughter at my expense, anyway? Sawyer’s a good
guy. Truth be told, I don’t mind him knowing. After all, I know most of
his business with Hadleigh.
He clears his throat with a chuckle. “Sorry.”
She waves her hand in his direction. “He listens, but he doesn’t care.
So, what is this app again?”
I blow out a calming breath. “It’s called Tryst. It’s pretty new.”
“Just the name sounds hot and filthy.” She wiggles her eyebrows at
me.
“Well, so far it’s been interesting. But it’s all online. I haven’t met up
with anyone … yet.”
“But are you going to—? Wait. How many people are you talking to?”
 I roll my eyes at her. “Just one. He’s a bit of a Sherlock nerd, too.
That’s what caught my eye about his profile.”
By her second snort, I’m almost offended. I mean, I’m laying it all
out here. I feel practically boobs-out naked.
She gives me an understanding look. “No, girl. I’m sorry. No
judgment. I’m just amazed that you actually found someone you like on
an app. So, Sherlock talks dirty to you?”
I slowly rake my teeth over my lower lip as I ponder how much
more to tell her. “Um, yeah, he does. He’s Professor Moriarty, though,
not Sherlock. And I’ve kind of been  … egging him on?” The last part
comes out as a question, as I still can’t quite believe what I’ve been
doing myself.
She covers her mouth with her hand as she gasps. “Seriously?” She
kicks her feet in excitement. “No freaking way. So, is that all it is? Like
flirty sexting … or …?”
I firmly shake my head. “No. He’s smart and funny, too. I think I
really like him. I’m scared. What if I end up meeting him and
everything I’ve built up about him in my head isn’t anything like the
real man?” Taking a deep breath, I exhale and send her my best wild-
eyed I’m about to freak the hell out and it’s not going to be pretty look.
Sawyer’s deep voice interrupts us. “Hey, Had. We’re supposed to talk
to Brian in his room in just a few minutes.”
Brian is their department chair, so I guess the conversation is over,
even though I’m still all panicky and flapping about in the maelstrom of
my emotions.
“Shoot. I gotta go, but I want to hear more when I come back. This
is too amazing. I’m sure it will be fine. Just promise when you do meet
him, you’ll do it in public.” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “You’ll
meet him in public, that is. I didn’t mean to do him in public. That
would be way naughtier than you’re ready for.” She winks at me with a
tiny smirk playing at her lips.
I cover my mouth to hold my laughter in, my eyes rolling. Only
Hadleigh …
With an encouraging squeeze to my arm, Hadleigh gets up and
walks out of the workroom in front of Sawyer, who waves at me on his
way out, an amused smile on his face.
I don’t even get a moment alone to compose myself because in strolls
Damon, a cocky, smug grin on his stupid-handsome face. “Hey, did you
share your thoughts yet with Jake in regard to next year’s curriculum?
He seemed to really like my ideas.”
“No, Damon, I haven’t. I’m still doing some research. I like to be
thorough.”
“I bet you do.” He stops next to my desk, tossing his gradebook on
top of a bunch of essays he’d been grading earlier.
I rise from my chair and square off in front of him, forcing him to
look at me. “Why are you goading me like this? Honestly, you are so
exasperating lately. What is your deal?”
I blink, and the next thing I know, his hand wraps around my
upper arm and he’s hauling me into the supply closet. The door clicks
quietly behind us. It’s a dark and musty little eight-by-eight room. The
only thing we bother to keep in here are classroom copies of books.
Stacks and stacks, shelf after shelf of books surround us. Why did he
drag me in here? I huff, flustered, as I go to flip the light switch.
Damon grabs at my wrist, halting me. “Stop,” he huffs.
My mouth drops open to ask him just what the hell he thinks he’s
doing when his fingers tighten on my arm. I blink a few times, trying
to focus in the dark room. He raises a forefinger in front of his full,
masculine lips in a classic shush gesture. His head bends down toward
mine and his deep, hypnotic eyes glitter in the darkness. “Wait,” he
whispers.
My heart thunders. I don’t understand why we’re in here, and
Damon’s body is just a little too close to mine for comfort. He’s tall and
muscular, dominating most of the space in the room, and oh my God,
get me out of here.
“It’s Jake and Principal Smith. Listen.”
I whisper-shout right into his face. “I’m not listening in on their
conversation. What are you, some kind of teacher-slash-spy?”
“If you’d just listen, you’d know they’re talking about us. About who
he’s going to choose.”
“What?” I bump into Damon’s chest with my shoulder as I twist
around toward the door. I have no shame as I lean closer, straining to
hear.
Okay. Maybe a little.
He chuckles quietly right next to my ear, his big, hard body at my
back. “I thought you might be interested in hearing what they’re
saying.”
I can’t decide whether to follow what my brain is telling me to do
and pay attention or heed the warning signals that my body is giving
off. His front is practically molded to the back of me as we both
eavesdrop on the conversation happening in the workroom. It’s  … not
awful. Oh. Oh my. Horny single lady needs to get her head back in the
game.
Jake wonders aloud, “Well, I don’t know where they are. They’re
usually here during their planning period.”
Then Principal Smith questions, her voice muffled, “Maybe they’re in
their rooms or the copy room. Maybe we should wait a few minutes?”
Oh, no. She wants to wait?
 Oh my God, we’re going to get caught in here listening. Worse,
when they find us, they’ll think there’s something going on here, the
two of us crammed into this tiny closet. In the dark. Alone. Together.
I’m never going to live this down.
I get a little light-headed at the thought and sway, suddenly off
balance in the dark. Damon grasps my hip firmly with his hand,
steadying me. I can’t tell if he’s not letting go on purpose or what, but
the heat of his hand seeps right through my skirt, and I can just
imagine how those firm fingers would feel on my bare skin.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, Piper. What is wrong with you? Now you’ve
missed what Jake said. I angle my head back toward Damon, agitated.
“What did he just say?”
He tucks his face near my head and whispers softly right next to my
ear. “I think Jake said they didn’t have to wait for us—he’d really give it
some thought and would be watching us carefully in the next few
weeks.”
I suck in a deep breath just as I realize my face is frighteningly close
to his neck. What a terrible mistake that was. His scent is intoxicating.
It’s masculine, potent, and uniquely him. My stomach flutters. What. The.
Fresh. Hell?
“Whatever. I’ve got this in the bag.” I can’t help sniping at him.
He chuckles quietly, provoking me yet again. “I’m just wondering
why you’re wasting your time in the first place.”
“You wish. I’ve been running circles around you, Damon.”
My gaze flickers up to his as he edges in close, his lips not two
inches from mine. If I’d thought my heart had been pounding before, I
was wrong; that was child’s play. It’s beating so hard right now, I swear
it’s going to burst free from my chest and race right out of the closet,
outing us hiding in here.
 His breath fans over my face, warm and minty. I just barely resist
the urge to inhale his air. He’s not at all gross, damn him.
A deep laugh reverberates through his chest. “Let the suck-up war
begin.”
My eyes flare, lips pursing. “Bring it.”
C HA PTER 4
 D A M ON

Breathe deeply. Focus. Frank comes at me with an elbow just like I’d
taught him to do. I block and kick at his knee with my shin. He jabs, I
feint with my left, strike right. Around and around the mat we go.
Frank is eighteen and has dreams of being an MMA fighter. When
he came to me a few months ago, I’d suggested we start him with Muay
Thai training to see just what he was capable of. I wasn’t sure if he’d
stick with it, but once he got a taste for sparring, all bets were off. And
the kid is good. Better than good, really. He’s going to be amazing. We
go back and forth trading jabs, kicks, and elbows one for one, giving
him a chance to learn to strike, then defend.
Soon, we move onto two for two and three for three so he can learn
different combinations, and understand how to defend himself against
whatever body part I decide to hit him with next.
To be clear, none of this is at all easy for me. Let’s face it, I’m
twenty-nine and no longer have the endurance of a teenager. I just
happen to have experience on my side.
There’s plenty of noise in the gym today—a bunch of rowdy men
over at the weight equipment; the feet of a half-dozen runners pound off
to our right on the treadmills; the constant whir of the treadmill belts
never letting up for more than a few seconds as members take turns on
them. There was a spin class going earlier, but that’s just stopped, thank
goodness. The woman leading it, Mary, has a shrill-as-hell voice, and I’d
felt my muscles tense up every time she’d shouted an instruction at her
class. Speed up, spin warriors! Faster! Faster, now! Push hard! You can
do it!
I shake my head and give Frank my attention again. Jab, block, jab,
block, front kick, block. We circle each other. Knee, block, jab, block,
cross, block. Sweat trickles down my chest.
The front door of the gym creaks loudly as it opens and the sound
of several feminine voices drift to us. I glance once, catching sight of a
couple women out of the corner of my eye. A few more join, and the
whole group heads toward the classroom at the back where a barre class
is scheduled this afternoon.
Ballerinas. I chuckle to myself, though I know I shouldn’t laugh. I
know I shouldn’t. That shit is way harder than it looks.
That’s when it happens. The one voice I wasn’t expecting to invade
my safe place catches my attention. Has my focus faltering. Makes me
turn my head because surely it can’t be who I think it is. My arms drop
to my sides, defensive stance abandoned.
And I catch a glove to my jaw.
I blink. Piper. What the hell is she doing here?
I blink again and shake my head. We’re only sparring at about fifty
to sixty percent since Frank has a fight coming up, but damn, that still
hurt.
“Sorry, man.” Frank stops, wincing.
“No worries, that was my fault. Give me just a second.” I shuffle on
my feet, looking around the gym, trying to pinpoint where Piper is
because I know that was her voice. I hear it all day long like a tiny bee
buzzing in my ear. It was definitely her.
 My gaze sweeps around the gym until it gets to the back. Ah. She’s
in the class. That figures. With Piper are two other women I recognize
from school. I know Madison works in the library, and the other woman
is Quinn—I remember because I’d thought it was a cool name for a
woman—and I seem to recall she’s a science teacher of some sort. She
works with Heath, who I’ve grabbed a beer with a couple of times after
work.
For reasons I can’t begin to comprehend, no matter how many
women enter the classroom, my eyes can’t seem to steer clear of Piper’s
luscious curves. It’s like my eyes are strangely magnetized and just keep
getting pulled right back to her.
I give my head a vicious shake, clearing it, and raise my fists just as
I tell Frank to come at me again.

I finish running Frank through the rest of his sparring training, then
send him off to recover in an ice bath. Lord knows I should probably do
the same, but right now I’m more interested in the conversation the
women in the barre class are having. They’ve propped the door open,
and are working through a cooldown, treating it as a mini gab session.
Snippets of their words float through the air once again.
They seem to be in a sharing mood, as I hear one lady say she
thinks her arms are too flabby, and another bemoans her it looks like I’m
still pregnant stomach. None of this really interests me until Piper joins
in on the conversation.
“It’s funny you said that about your stomach, because I can’t wait
until I have a stomach to match my wide-ass child-bearing hips.” She
groans, and the other women groan right along with her, laughing
good-naturedly. She looks around, amusement clear on her face. “What?
That’s what my mom always called them.”
An older woman chuckles. “Might be true, though most women of all
shapes and sizes have children just fine.” She laughs. “Your mama just
wants you to believe you were built for it so you’ll give her some
grandbabies someday, honey. Nothing wrong with that.”
What is it about women that they talk so freely about their bodies?
You sure as fuck wouldn’t hear a dude in the locker room discussing his
flat butt or moobs with anyone. And we’re definitely not analyzing how
we feel about our baby-making equipment. I shake my head. I’m slightly
disturbed by the whole conversation, wondering if it’s a good thing for
women that they are able to share like this or if it’s just detrimental
given half of them end up comparing themselves.
I scan over Piper’s body. She’s concerned about her wide hips? I
think back to yesterday afternoon when I had my hand on her,
steadying her. When she started to weave and rock in her heels right in
front of me as we were listening at the door of the supply room, I’d
thought she was on the verge of passing out. Instinctually, I’d reached
out, holding onto her. She’d felt feminine and just right in my hand,
the curve of her hip fitting perfectly. Now I wish I’d put my other hand
on her, too, felt for myself the span of those “child-bearing hips.” Her
waist is tiny, and she’s definitely shaped like a goddamn hourglass.
There’s no way to forget the way her long hair drapes down over her
chest, partially hiding her breasts. I like the way she looks dressed for
work, but she might even look too damn perfect—always so put together.
I’ve got to say, I prefer the way she looks right now. And I’m betting I’d
probably like her a whole hell of a lot more if I got a chance to muss
her up a bit.
Where. The fuck. Did that come from? I huff out a frustrated breath.
 Ah, hell. I really can’t start looking at her like this, thinking about
her like this. For one, if there’s anything my mother and sisters have
taught me, it’s that women are not objects to be ogled. And, two, this
one grabs my attention and I don’t want her to—fuck, I don’t know
why she does. She’s a pain in my ass most of the time, always so damn
argumentative.
So damn argumentative it turns me on, it would seem. Fuck me. I
swipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my forearm before I
allow myself one last look.
My gaze slides over her body again. She’s got on some sort of leotard
and leggings, and her feet are bare. I don’t give a flying fuck what she
thinks about her hips. They seem just right to me. With a shrug, my
perusal continues up to her long hair, which is wound on top of her
head in a messy bun, exposing her graceful neck. I have the fleeting
thought that I’d like to touch my tongue to the column of her throat
and find out how her skin tastes. I don’t understand what’s gotten into
me, but that’s dangerous thinking, especially considering we are in direct
competition right now. I can’t afford to let her distract me. But, Jesus,
the way she’s stretching, bending, moving her body …
Piper glances through the glass door of the classroom, locking eyes
with me. Her brows draw together and my cock  … twitches. It fucking
twitches. And now I’m in need of that ice bath for other reasons
entirely.
Fuck this, I’m out of here. I’m about to make a break for the locker
room when she starts heading in my direction with her group of friends.
“Hey, Damon.” Piper approaches me carefully, wary, as if I’m a wild
animal she’s stumbled upon in its natural habitat. “You know Quinn and
Madison from school?”
“Yep. Hi, ladies. Did you enjoy your workout?” I chew on my lip as I
pick at the wraps on my hands to give me something to do.
 Quinn grins, glancing between me and Piper, then winks at
Madison. I assume her friends are aware of our current battle for the
department chair position, hence the non-verbal communication among
them. She clears her throat. “Oh, we sure did. It’s a fun class.” She
hesitates for a second, tilting her head and studying the side of my jaw.
She points to it. “We, uh, saw you fighting that guy.”
Great. I guess it was too much to hope for that it’d gone unnoticed
when I took that hit.
“What was that? Kickboxing?” Madison glances over at the mats
where Frank and I had been practicing.
“It’s Muay Thai. We were sparring. He has a fight coming up.”
They all nod like they know what I’m talking about, so I don’t
elaborate, even though I catch a confused look passing among them.
I look back to Piper and nod toward the classroom as I begin to
remove the hand wraps. “Was that your first time doing a barre class?”
Piper frowns. “Yes, it was.” She practically shoos the question away
with her hand, her eyes roving over the side of my face where I’d taken
the hit. “Did we or did we not see you get clocked a few minutes ago?
Is that supposed to happen during practice?”
I drop my head, chin to chest, chuckling as I run a hand over my
jaw. I wouldn’t have thought she’d be concerned. I’ve actually thought
there were a few times this past week where she’d like to hit me herself.
I look back up and nod. “Yeah, I did. My concentration slipped for a
second.” I shrug. “It’s all good. Frank needs to see that happen so he’s
aware of how fast you can screw up. One little mistake and you lose.”
Piper’s lips twist into a tiny, knowing smirk. “Well, let’s hope you
don’t get distracted like that at school. Won’t be much fun if you let me
win because you’re off your game, your attention diverted somewhere it
shouldn’t be.”
 She shoots me a wink. With a quiet chuckle, she links arms with her
friends and saunters away, throwing over her shoulder, “See you at
school, Damon.”
And damned if my traitorous eyes don’t follow the sway of her hips
all the way across the gym and out the door.

After Piper and her friends leave, I hit the locker room. I spend some
time in an ice bath, as my muscles are screaming at me, then loosen
things up in a steaming hot shower. That little minx … I don’t doubt she
knows what caused my concentration to slip. She thinks she has an
advantage. Well, if she thinks that’s the case, she’s got another thing
coming. I shake my head, trying to get her out of my thoughts, out of
my system. But damn, the way she’d taunted me right before they’d left
makes me want to teach her a lesson she’ll never forget. I grab my
phone, pulling up the Tryst app. One surefire way to get my mind off
of Piper and her antics would be to have a good, healthy argument
with Sherlock4Love. A tiny red dot blinks next to her name, indicating
that she’s left me a message.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’m in a mood, Moriarty, just itching for a

good argument. What do you have for me?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Well, good evening to you, too.
I snort. She doesn’t mince words. I like it. A lot. Oh, and it looks like
she’s logged into the app right now, too.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Ha-ha. Come on. I know we haven’t

exhausted all the discussions we could possibly have.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Okay, fine. If that guy, Jeremy Brett, does
your favorite portrayal of Sherlock, who does your least favorite?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: And don’t you dare fucking say
Cumberbatch.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’d never. That new show is awful—the one
with the female Watson? Anyway, the whole Sherlock/Watson dynamic is
just weird. And I really think they are messing too much with a classic.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Well, surprisingly, I respect that opinion.
Mostly because I’d assumed you’d like her just because she’s a woman.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Not a chance in hell. It was not nearly as
good as it could have been. And putting a woman in there just messes
with the sexual ambiguity of Sherlock’s character. The classic take will
always be better.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: My least fave is the latest movie. Too much
comedy.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Aw, see, I kind of liked that.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: But that’s the reason I like Cumberbatch.
He’s funny without trying.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Okay. I’ll concede that point.
I fucking love the debates I have with this woman. She instantly
puts me in a better mood, and I can’t even pinpoint why. She’s quick
and witty yet sensible, and she always has excellent reasoning to back
up whatever her standpoint is. And I’ll readily admit all that, even
though I don’t always agree with her. She has a way of making me see
her point of view and at the very least, understand where she’s coming
from. It excites me. My only fear is what she’d be like in person. What if
I get to know her, really start to like her, hell, become attached to who I
think she is, only to find out she’s different in real life? Or what if she’s
the same, but there’s no physical spark at all? Is the intellectual
connection between us enough?
I blow out a hard breath. But then I think about that conversation
we had about what would happen if we’d met. It’d been hot. We
haven’t really gone there since, but maybe we should … and soon.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Why does talking to you get me all hot and
bothered?

Apparently, soon is now.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Don’t tease me, baby.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’m no tease. I told you I’m in a mood
tonight.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: And I get to benefit from it?
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Depends. Can you handle me?
I smirk as I look at my phone. Can I handle her? I can handle most
anyone. The real question is can she handle me?

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I can take anything you dish out. Go ahead.

Shock me. Tell me your darkest desire.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’d like to suck your long, hard cock until
you come in my mouth.

I blink. Well, all right.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Of course, in order to do that we’d have to

meet, and I would actually have to like you.
 I smile. Filthy mouth, cautious mind. Interesting combo. A little bit of
backpedaling from her, but my guess is she’s nervous she was taking
things a little far. It makes me wonder for about the thousandth time in
the last few weeks just who this person is. I have to know. Sooner
rather than later.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Sherlock, I think you just might be my kind

of woman.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Ah, but are you my kind of man? How will
we ever determine that?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: There’s really only one way. :)
I’m just about to suggest we meet when she responds.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Maybe someday.

It feels like a shutdown. It also feels like I’m about to spend another
night alone with only my hand for company. Excellent.
C HA PTER 5
 PIPE R

“No, Dad. It hasn’t been decided yet.” I drop my phone to my desk with
a thud and hit the speaker button so I can keep grading while I listen,
yet again, to why it’s “simply impossible” that someone else might also be
good enough for the department chair position. I glance behind me,
assuring myself I’m alone in the workroom. I can just sense what’s
coming next because for my mom and dad, it’s all about image and
status and what their little girl can achieve. Not that I’m little anymore,
but this is how it’s always been. Can she ace the test? Win the debate?
Beat out the other students for the award? Earn the scholarship? Land
the job? Be named for the department chair position? My throat goes dry
and my chest squeezes tight as the immense pressure weighs down on
me the way it always has. I should be used to this by now.
But I’m not.
Mom’s voice is close to shrill. “You just need to make sure you’re the
one selected. You’re the best choice, hands down. Don’t they know that?
This is a small town. Everyone will talk if the daughter of two of the
department chairs from Hawthorne Academy doesn’t get selected for the
department chair position at the local public high school.” She says it like
it’s less than. Like I’ve settled, and for the love of all that’s holy, I’d
better get this position or I’ll be a failure. That’s the message I get when
I read between the lines.
They’d have loved for me to take a position at the academy with
them, but, oh my God, can you imagine how that would have gone? I’d
gladly taken the job here, knowing I didn’t want them breathing down
my neck day in and day out. But still, they seem to be doing all right
in that regard, even from their posh little offices at the academy.
“You’ve been groomed for that spot since the minute you walked in
the door and accepted the teaching position. You have the qualifications
to do it well,” Dad’s voice rumbles through the phone.
“I know. But I’m not the only one who does. I’m trying, believe me.”
“There’s no trying. Just do it or don’t.”
Who does he think he is? It’s almost like he just channeled Yoda, but
the wording was a little off. I groan as I pick up a baby carrot. Shoving
it into my mouth, I’m quiet for several seconds while I chew, and my
parents discuss again between them how it would affect them if I fail to
get the position.
“Look, guys, I’ve got to go. Lunch is almost over and I haven’t
finished eating.”
“Okay. Piper? You know we just want the best for you, right?”
I prop my elbow on the desk and rest my chin on my knuckles as I
look down at the phone, blinking away the haze of tears that has
started to fill my eyes. “Yeah, Mom. I know.”
We say goodbye and as soon as I hit the end button on my phone, I
hear someone behind me. My shoulders hunch up, and I try to calm
myself, to hide this weak side of me.
I inhale carefully, afraid my fragile emotional state will be on display
to whomever has come in and likely heard the latter half of that call.
It’s not Sawyer or Hadleigh or any of the teachers in the other
department who couldn’t care less about who gets the chair position for
the English department. That would be too simple. It would be no huge
deal if it were Kent or even Jake, who’d met my parents at a fundraiser
and would probably feel sorry for me, knowing how hard they push.
Not that I want Jake to choose me out of pity. I’ll get the position based
on my own merit or not at all.
There’s only one person who would take what he’d just heard and
throw it right into my face, so of course, that’s exactly who it is. I know
it before I even look.
I’m sure my makeup is smudged and my face puffy, so I blink a few
times and discreetly wipe under my eyes with my fingers before
spinning my chair around.
Damon stands there, legs spread in a wide, manly stance, arms
crossed over his broad chest, eyeing me as if he just heard every bit of
what my parents said to me.
Great. Just great. That’s just what I need, for Damon to know that I
have my family pressuring me to perform well—that they seem to care
more about appearances or status or gossip than about their own
daughter. I know they hadn’t realized anyone else could hear them—
hell, neither had I—but, in my mind, that makes it worse. If they’d
known, they never would have said any of that because they’d have
thought it’d make them look bad and would reflect poorly on our
picture-perfect family.
I blindly reach back to grab another carrot off the desk and stick it
in my mouth, chewing carefully as we continue the stare down.
He nods toward my food. “You know, you should really be getting
some lean protein with your lunch. Something that will fuel you for the
day instead of leaving you feeling empty like your veggie lunch will.”
He grunts a little, jutting his chin toward the little mini fridge we keep
in the corner. “I have some chicken. Want some?”
 Why is he—ever so calmly—talking to me about adding
motherfreaking chicken to my lunch? I want to scream. And why are his
dark eyes looking at me with something that feels a whole lot like
concern? I’d have thought the whole conversation would have delighted
him—especially the part when I’d mentioned there was another qualified
candidate for the position.
“Mind your own business, Madero.”
He shrugs and expels a quick breath. “Suit yourself.” He sits down in
his chair right next to mine. He’s still watching me. I can see him out of
the corner of my eye, studying me, debating with himself whether he
should say anything else. If he’s not careful, the gears turning in his
head are going to overheat.
I pick up another baby carrot and chomp down on it.
My lunch suddenly seems very unappetizing, not to mention, it’s a
pretty fair assessment. I’m going to be even more hungry later. Jerk. I
wish he’d kept his chicken thoughts to himself.
I wish … Squeezing my eyes tightly, I concentrate solely on the air
entering and exiting my body, as if that’s going to calm me down.
I wish he hadn’t heard my parents. My emotional state right now is
unstable at best. My lip wobbles. With a sideways glance at him, I
snatch up my phone and mumble, “I need to visit the ladies’ room before
class.”
I hurry off like a shot down the hallway to the bathroom and lock
myself in a stall.
I do my business, and then just sit there quietly where no one can
watch the humiliation sweeping through me, on display all over my
face. With a glance at my phone, I see I have five minutes before the
bell is going to ring, and I’ll be damned if I’m leaving this stall. I put
the humiliation of Damon witnessing my phone call in a tiny box and
tuck it ever so carefully into the back of my mind where I don’t have to
think about it for the moment. I can’t help but think I’m royally
screwing everything up.
A check-in with Prof.M. has been my go-to lately for those times
when I need to put a smile on my face. Unfortunately, the last time we
messaged, I’d lost my damn mind and told him I’d like to suck him off.
And it had felt deliciously naughty in the moment, but afterward  … I
just don’t know. I’d felt nervous and out of sorts. It really hadn’t been
very “me” to say something like that. That damn Tryst app makes me
way too brave.
Thank goodness I’m fairly decent at compartmentalizing things and
had conveniently forgotten about that little bit of embarrassment until
just now. My face turns red just thinking of everything I’d said to him
and my hands tremble. What this all amounts to is the fact that I’m one
huge mess—I’m just really freaking good at hiding it from everyone.
What the hell. I may as well check in with him and see just how
craptastic my day is about to get. With a deep sigh, I open the Tryst
app to find there’s a message from him waiting for me.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I think we should meet. Otherwise, how

will we ever know we have anything in common beyond Sherlock?

Wait. He wants to meet me? I ponder this new information for a

second before I chuckle at how dumb I am. Of course he wants to meet.
Of course. You offered up your mouth to him. I’m so dumb. I can’t
believe I did that.
He must be online right now because that was just sent a minute
ago. Another message comes in right behind it.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Look, I feel like maybe our last conversation

spooked you, and I don’t want you to feel that way.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I know I like smart fucking women, and
you seem to be one. You can hide what you look like, but you can’t
hide your brain. It’s not just about what you look like or how we might
interact, though that’s definitely part of it. I want to know everything
about you.

Fingers hovering over my phone’s keyboard, I close my eyes before

blowing out a breath through pursed lips. I guess I need to be honest
before I get myself in really deep.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Well, I am. I’m ready whenever you are.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I need to know.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Need to know what?
A hard swallow works its way down past the lump in my throat as
I wait for his reply.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I need to know what this is. We flirt and

have fun. But I think we are both looking for something more.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Am I wrong?
I close my eyes. Great. Now I’m feeling pressure from all sides—from
myself, my parents, and now even from Prof.M. And the thing is, it’s
not that I don’t want the same things. Do I want the department chair
position? Of course. Do I want my parents to think well of me? Yep. Do
I think I owe it to myself to find out who this guy is? Hell, yes.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I’m from a big family. I’m used to fighting

for what I want. And I want to know you.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Well, I’m an only child, so I pretty much
always get my way.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: But couldn’t what you want and I want be
the same thing? Think about it.

My teeth catch the corner of my lower lip. He could be right. But

what if we meet and it’s all wrong?

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’ll do that. Give me some time?

C HA PTER 6
 D A M ON

As I work on creating a handout for a book we’ll be reading in class

soon, I wonder where the hell Piper has disappeared to. She’d taken off
like a bat out of hell at the end of lunch and then we’d had class, so I
haven’t had a chance to check on her.
I don’t know why I feel the need to see how she’s doing, except—
dammit, I didn’t like the way that phone call had affected her. Misery
was written all over her face, plain for me to see. And the kicker? I’d
felt her pain deep in my gut, like it was my own. I don’t understand
why, but it reached in and grabbed hold of me, made me understand
her better.
Her eyes had been glassy, like she’d been fighting tears as she
listened to them. Her lower lip had quivered ever so slightly when our
gazes connected. I hate that they have the ability to affect her like that.
And then, there’d been some things left unsaid when she’d taken off for
the bathroom. She’d tried to act like nothing was wrong, but I know
better.
Do I like to poke at her and tease her? Try to ruffle her feathers?
One hundred percent.
Had I liked what I’d overheard from her parents in that phone call,
though? No. Do I like how they’d made her feel? Fuck, no. As if I’m not
already aware of her intensity, of the way she pushes herself—to find
out that her parents do it, too, and not in a subtle way? It’d made me
angry on her behalf. I’d had the urge to pull her into my arms and tell
her everything would be okay, to calm the trembling I’d seen rolling
through her body in swift waves.
Yet, how could I possibly do that, be the one to offer her comfort,
when I’m the one who is threatening to screw everything up for her? I
don’t see a solution because as much as I know she wants the job, I
want it, too. My family needs me to get it. They’re depending on me to
come through.
I set my pen down and scrub both hands through my short hair,
growling to myself. Life isn’t always fair, and one of the two of us is
going to learn that in a big way in the next few weeks.
A small noise next to me has me jerking to the left to see Piper has
come in, quiet like a kitten, though I don’t know how she’s managed it
in those heels of hers. I take a few seconds to assess her state of mind,
but she seems to be composed again, as if she’s pulled a mask on, hiding
the emotions I’d seen swimming in her eyes.
Frowning, I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She looks
really pretty today. I hadn’t noticed earlier with so much going on, but
she’s wearing simple black pants and a red sweater that brings out the
pink in her cheeks. Her long hair is down as usual, but it’s swept over
one shoulder at the moment. I’ll be damned, but the allure of her neck is
still a very heady reality, just like it was when I’d noticed it at the gym.
A jolt of something I can only assume is desire moves through me,
making my heart pump hard and my dick harden in my pants.
“What are you doing, Damon?”
Um. Is she a mind reader or something? How the hell does she know
what I’m thinking about? I’m pretty sure I’m not that obvious. I angle
my body toward her and eye her carefully. “I’m sorry, what?”
 She points at the notes I’m making and the stacks of books at the
side of my work area. “What are you doing with all that?”
I don’t say anything for a few seconds as it registers that she does
not know I was thinking about tasting the skin of her neck where her
pulse thrums.
Am I totally straying from the book list for my eleventh-grade
English classes? I sure as fuck am. We blew through the required reading
so we’d have time for stuff the kids are actually interested in. That’s
what I’d discussed with Jake about the curriculum—ways to include
current literature in our classes. He’d given me the go-ahead, and Piper
is probably going to be pissed when she finds out what my idea was
and that Jake has already agreed and is onboard with testing things out.
“This?” I wink at her. “Just giving the kids what they want.”
She sputters, “But—” She shakes her head determinedly. “You can’t
do that. You’ve veered right off the required reading list.”
“The hell I can’t. The curriculum tells us what we have to cover, not
that we have to spend eons upon eons discussing The Crucible or
Animal Farm. My classes have already covered everything on the
required reading list. I’m satisfied that they’ve learned what they needed
to from it.”
Damn, woman. One minute I’m feeling badly for her, and now she’s
going to go and ruin all those tender feelings I’d been having and poke
the bear. The bear being me. I don’t care what she says. I’ll do what I
want, especially since I already have approval. Does she think I’d just
willy-nilly do whatever I choose on my own? I’m not that crazy.
Probably not a good idea to go completely rogue with the chair position
on the line. I chuckle to myself. And that’s exactly why I’d gone directly
to Jake with it in the first place.
“But you can’t possibly have covered it the way you need to.”
 “I beg your pardon? My students know what they need to know.
Besides, some of the older stuff is stodgy and boring. I know there are
important lessons and topics there, though, which is why I didn’t skip
over any of it. We just didn’t spend inordinate amounts of time on any
one book or theme.”
“I’m sorry, did you say old and boring? The classics have their place
in our curriculum.” She throws her hands up. “This is what you were
discussing with Jake, isn’t it?”
I shrug, irritated that she keeps sticking her nose in my business.
And Lord help me, it sounds like she and Sherlock4Love would get
along just fine with their love of the damn classics. Remind me to never
introduce the two of them.
She huffs, crossing her arms in front of her. “Where’d you get the
funding to do this? How do you have all of these books?” She nods her
head at all the copies of Caraval and Divergent piled neatly next to me.
I smirk. She doesn’t need to know.
“Did Jake approve that?”
“He didn’t have to approve it because I didn’t go through the school
to purchase them.” Sort of true. He did approve that I was doing it. He
didn’t help me purchase. I’d raised funds for that all on my own.
She sniffs, and pouts a little for good measure before she finally
relents. “I’ve read them. They’re good books. Might be some things to
discuss there.”
“Uh-huh.” Now she’s wishing she’d done it too. Instead, she’s stuck
going on and on about Fahrenheit 451 in her classes. Don’t get me
wrong. We studied everything we were supposed to … we’d just done it
at a faster pace than her classes, which has given us time to incorporate
a few other books into the plans. We did all of her “classics.” Now we
get to have fun.
“You’re infuriating, Damon. You know that, right?”
 I can’t help but chuckle. “What was it you said to me earlier? Oh,
yeah. Mind your own business, Mathison.”
She squints her eyes at me. “Fine.”
Breathing hard, I push back and stand quickly. Unfortunately, she
does the same thing at the same time, leaving us less than a foot apart.
Our chests rise and fall rapidly as we standoff opposite each other, and
I’m about half a second from hauling her to me and burying my lips
against her neck when Jake and Brian Schmidt, the history department
chair, walk in.
With a final huff, Piper whirls around and leaves the workroom.
C HA PTER 7
 PIPE R

I’m late. I’ve never been late to school in my entire teaching career. So,
when do I choose to do it? Right. Just a few weeks before the selection
of the new department chair. I’m so mortified by how unprofessional it
felt to have to call and tell them I needed someone to cover my first
period class until I could make it in.
Damn cramps. I’d woken up in plenty of time to get to school, but
my uterus apparently had other plans. It felt like it was in a vise, my
back hurt, and I was even slightly nauseated. I can’t remember the last
time it was this bad, but I guess I was due. I’d curled myself up into a
little ball and hit snooze, unable to crawl out of bed and hoping it
would subside if I gave myself a few extra minutes.
Only I didn’t hit snooze. I must have turned the alarm off
completely. By the time I stumbled to the bathroom to look for some
painkillers, it was 7:45 a.m. and I was due at school in fifteen minutes—
which would have been totally doable, if not for the fact that I really
thought I might keel over and die right there in the bathroom.
As I finally enter the school, I’m surrounded by hearts, flowers,
chocolates, and people in love. To top off my great mood—yep, it’s
Valentine’s Day. It’s hard for me to admit this, but as much as I
grumble, I wish I were partaking in the festivities, no matter how
manufactured and commercial the holiday is. To have that special
someone would be amazing.
Instead, all weekend long, I’d vacillated between frustration at
Damon and his crazy ideas, and worry about whether or not I should
continue talking to Prof.M. My more immediate concern is here in the
real world, I guess. Tryst is just an app. Prof.M. only becomes a part of
my reality if I actually meet him—if I let him in. That’s definitely got to
be put on hold. It needs to be. I just can’t handle it right now.
Hell, I can’t even handle getting myself to school on time and still
don’t know how I’m going to make it through the day because the
ibuprofen I’d taken earlier is not helping.
Cringing, I push the button to the main office and the secretary,
Beverly, buzzes me in. She takes one look at my pale face and the set of
my jaw and immediately sympathizes. “Oh, honey,” she bites her lip and
lowers her voice to a whisper, “are you sick?”
I shake my head, gritting my teeth and fighting the urge to bend in
half, arms crossed over my lower abdomen.
“Cramps?”
Ugh. Let’s all talk about my uterus right here in the office, why
don’t we? I give her a brief nod, my eyes flickering to hers and then
away. “I’m so sorry to be late. It wasn’t intentional at all.”
Beverly waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it for another second. Mr.
Madero opened the divider wall between your classrooms, he’s been
handling your class and his at the same time.”
I blink at her, as if she’s speaking in a foreign tongue, like she’s
grown a second head and a third eyeball. She can’t possibly have said
what I think she did. Oh my God, I’m in so much pain I’m
hallucinating. I give myself a shake and focus on her again. “I’m sorry,
what did you say?” Beads of sweat form and slide between my shoulder
blades and down my back. Because I’m not already uncomfortable
enough standing here with my lady parts clenching. Breathe, Piper.
Beverly clicks her tongue as she studies my frowning face. “Mr.
Madero. He’s got both classes this morning.” She shrugs her shoulders.
“He was in here when you called in, and he told me not to worry about
finding someone to cover, that it was the same class and it was no
problem to open the divider and—” She pauses for a second. “I’m sorry,
did I do something wrong?”
I close my eyes briefly before opening them again, plastering a smile
on my shell-shocked face. “No. Oh, no, Beverly, not at all. I was just
caught by surprise.” I press a hand to my stomach. “Truth be told, I’m
really just not myself today.”
She gives me an understanding nod. “No problem, sweetie. You let us
know if you need to go home. I know how it can be sometimes.”
I give her a weak smile. “Thanks.”
I turn on my heel to leave just as Zoey pokes her head out of her
office. Her eyes are wide as she scans my face. “Are you okay?”
I huff out a breath. “Walk with me. I have to get to my class.”
We exit the office, and I raise a shaky hand to my forehead. “I’ve
got a hormone-induced headache coming on, and my uterus is trying to
twist itself into a demented pretzel.”
“Oh, man. I have some ibuprofen in my office if you need some.”
“I already took some. It didn’t help. And while this”—I wave my
hand in front of my angry abdomen—“doesn’t help, the worst part is
that I now owe Damon for helping me out this morning. He offered to
cover my class.” I whisper, “And, of course, Jake is going to be aware of
the situation.”
“Ugh. That totally sucks.”
“So, I end up looking like a fragile female while he gets to put on
his hero cape for the day—all just in time for Jake to choose him over
me.”
I look at the hearts plastered to the walls over the lockers. “And it’s
Valentine’s Day on top of everything else. I just want to …” I lift a hand
high and smack a cupid cutout that dangles from the ceiling. “Ugh. Can
this not be my life today?”
“I’ll find you chocolate and bring it down to you—I’ll leave it on
your desk in the workroom. Will that help?” She sends me a troubled
smile.
“Yes, and thank you for listening to my rant.” I press my lips
together and then force myself to blow out the breath I’d been holding.
“Okay. Time to face the firing squad.”
Zoey pats my arm. “Hang in there. It’ll be okay.”
C HA PTER 8
 D A M ON

I’ve got my students and Piper’s working on assignments at their desks.

It wasn’t exactly what I’d planned for the day, but with our classes
reading different books at the moment, it was easier to have them work
quietly on their own. Fifty kids at once is a lot to handle.
Fortunately, these are all good kids, and I haven’t had any issues at
all beyond the moment her class realized what we were reading versus
what they were reading, and a whole lot of whining broke out. I’ll
admit to having laughed a little on the inside at their dismay. I’m sure
Piper will be enthused to discover her students are about to revolt,
wanting to read something fun.
“Guys, I’m just going to the workroom for a second to check in with
the office and see when we can expect Ms. Mathison.”
The students nod in response and get right back to what they were
doing, so I slip out the door. My head swings left when I hear the
clicking of heels coming toward me from around the corner right before
Piper appears. Her face is strained, and it falls when she sees me. She
hurries more quickly toward me, but I hold out my hand palm out in
front of me. “Hey. No need to hurry, they’re fine.”
She comes to a stop right in front of me. “I’m sorry you had to
cover.” She glances down at her bag and her lunch container. “I’m going
to set this in the workroom.” She gestures toward the door. “I’ll just be
another second.”
My brow furrows as I study her, and before she can move, I reach
out, grasping her elbow gently. She looks completely stressed out, and at
the same time, I can tell she’s not feeling one hundred percent, either.
Her lips part as she glances down at my hand. I let go and tuck my
hand into my pocket. “No need to rush. Like I said, they’re working on
the assignment you gave them that’s due next week. Everything’s fine.” I
try to keep my voice calm and steady, as she seems like she could flip
out at any second.
She nods and walks toward the workroom, throwing an, “Okay,
thank you,” over her shoulder.
I follow.
If you ask me why, my answer is simple. I don’t know. I have no
freaking clue. The kids are fine, but now I have no need to contact the
office because she’s already right here. Someone tell me why I’m standing
here. Watching her class has been no big deal, however, I can see Piper’s
made a mountain out of a molehill—this reminds me an awful lot of my
middle sister, Esme—and Piper’s close to a meltdown of epic proportions.
It’s written all over her face. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but I
feel an intense need to make sure she’s okay.
She puts her food in the fridge, then whirls around to her desk,
sorting through things, pulling a stack of papers out of her bag,
mumbling to herself, and shaking her head. She doesn’t realize I’m
observing every agitated move she makes. I hate to do this to her again,
to bear witness to her having another “moment,” but here we are. I can’t
leave her like this. She plops down into her chair, wraps her arms
around her middle, and leans forward, her face contorting in pain.
That’s all it takes to set me into motion. I sit down next to her,
wheeling my chair toward her. My chest tightens and my voice comes
out gruff. “Piper, what’s wrong? Should you even be here?”
She turns her head, eyes widening as it finally hits her that I’ve
been here this whole time. Her eyes blink shut, and she straightens
herself. “I just need a minute.”
The lightbulb finally goes on over my head. Rummaging through a
drawer in my desk for a second, I finally come up with a bottle of
Midol that my little sister Elena asked me to hold onto for her in case
she ever needs it during the school day. It’s completely against school
policy to leave medications anywhere except with the school nurse, but
Elena has always had me wrapped around her little finger. Since our
father passed away ten years ago, I’m the only father figure she’s known
and I’d do just about anything for her—apparently, that includes storing
feminine medications, as well as other products for her, in my desk
drawer.
My hand wraps around the bottle, squeezing it tightly, not sure if
I’m about to overstep one of those male/female coworker boundaries in a
big way. All I can think is that if she was one of my sisters—which she
is so not—I wouldn’t hesitate. Decision made, I set the bottle on the
corner of Piper’s desk, sliding it over to her.
When her eyes light upon the bottle, she freezes in place. She lifts a
hand to reach for it, but pulls it back to her lap, and folds it with her
other hand. Her voice is low and she seems a little perturbed, if I’m not
mistaken. “Are you kidding me right now?”
I stand up and shrug. “They’re Elena’s, but you’re welcome to them,
if it will help.” I start to wonder if I made the right decision after all.
Should I have done that? Does she think it’s weird that I had those in
my drawer? That I’d offer them to her? Fuck all, I’m just trying to help
her. I don’t even know why I care.
But I do.
 Her forehead creases for a second before she glances at me, then
snatches the bottle, opens it, and shakes a few pills into her hand.
“Water?” My lips twitch at how irritated she seems.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a concentrated stream
through her plump lips. Lips that I’ve never really noticed before, but I
sure do now. She nods, eyeing me carefully. I grab a bottle from my
stash in the workroom fridge and hand it off to her.
She takes the medication, and drinks half the bottle of water before
she stops. The whole time, I’m watching her throat move as she
swallows.
I can’t take my eyes from her. I know I should be getting back to
the classroom—back to our classes—but my feet are unmoving, seemingly
full of lead, keeping me hostage in the room with her.
She peers at me from under her lashes. “I’m fine, Damon. Thank you.
I’ll be right there.”
I nod and quickly exit. I don’t know why I’ve started to look at
Piper with new eyes, but I’d better figure my shit out and fast.
C HA PTER 9
 PIPE R

I’m mortified I was late to school because of my murder cramps, and it’s
even worse that my male coworker had to help. And it’s especially bad
because it was Damon.
And he had helped. Like I don’t owe him enough right now as it is.
I don’t know what sort of magic is in that bottle but I don’t care
because it works. I feel much better by lunch.
I purposely hurry to the workroom, grab my food and head for the
library where Madison, Sophia, and Quinn were gathering for a little
girl talk.
When I sit down, Sophia lays a hand to my arm. “How are you?
Zoey mentioned you were feeling pretty crappy earlier.”
I peel the lid off of my container and drizzle dressing over my salad
—with chicken, insert eyeroll here—before I answer. Moving my food
around with my fork, I stab at a few pieces of lettuce and wince, the
memory still fresh. “Yep, it was bad. I thought I was going to die.
Accidentally turned off my alarm and made myself so late that Damon
had to take my class.”
Quinn cringes. “I heard about that. A couple of the kids in my
second period class were in there.” She puts her hand out. “Not that it
was any big deal, but there was a lot of talk about why Damon’s class is
reading Caraval while your class is doing Fahrenheit 451.”
“Oh, jeez. Well, the honest truth is that his class has already finished
the required reading and has headed into some other books he’s picked
out.” I frown. “I guess he cleared it with Jake, so …”
Madison scrunches her nose. “So, you don’t really have a lot of room
to say anything. That Caraval series is a good one for kids that age. I
bet they really like it.”
I groan. “They will. I’m just irritated that he’s doing something that I
think Jake is actually going to appreciate. I wonder if maybe Damon is
the right person for the chair position.” My shoulders sag, and I poke
around my salad a bit more, not really interested in it.
“So, maybe it’s time to dial it up a notch.” Sophia’s brow arches, and
I can just see her mind working to fix the problem for me. “What if you
plan a field trip or some event that your students will love?”
“That’s not a bad idea.” My brain whirs a bit and lands on what
might actually be a feasible plan. “In fact, I think Hadleigh and Sawyer
have been preparing to take their US History classes on a trip really
soon. They’re going to see a special screening of Hamilton at a theater in
Boston. Maybe I can see if it would work to do a joint trip.”
Madison’s lips tease into a grin. “I bet she’d be all for helping you
out. I like this idea.”
I fork up a big bite of salad and a piece of chicken. “I love it when
a plan starts to form.” Now that the idea is shaping itself in my head,
I’m suddenly ravenous. I listen to the girls talk about other things all
while I munch happily through my entire salad.
After third period, I make a trip to the office for some copies before
heading back to the workroom to get some lesson plans done. When I
walk in, there are only two people on the far side of the room, which is
where my desk is. Damon leans in and talks softly to a female student. I
don’t immediately recognize who it is at first, as he’s kind of hunched
over her, but she’s crying and he’s patting her shoulder, all while trying
to reassure her that not all boys suck and Valentine’s Day will not
always suck—her words first, not his—and everything is going to be
okay.
I clear my throat and make some noise with the copies in my hands
so they know I’m here before I come any closer. The girl turns her head
toward me, and I realize it’s Elena. She’s in my first period class, the
same one that Damon had to cover this morning. It’s funny, I know in
the back of my head she’s his sister, but it’s kind of easy to forget with
the age difference between them. I can’t recall if she’s ever been in here
before.
“Hey, Elena. Is everything okay?”
Damon reaches out and swipes a tear from under her eye. He keeps
his eyes trained on her when he says, “She’ll be okay. Won’t you,
Elena?”
She sniffles and hugs her brother. “I’m fine. Boys are just dumb. You
know how it is, right Ms. Mathison?” She glances between me and
Damon.
I stifle a laugh. “I sure do, sweetie.”
Elena glances up at Damon. “All boys except my brother, that is.” She
gets a funny little look on her face before she asks, “Ms. Mathison, how
come we can’t read Caraval like Damon’s class is reading?”
I purse my lips, embarrassed that Damon is doing something for his
class that my students obviously are clamoring for. Even worse, he gets
to hear me admit to it. Grr. “We’ve got to finish Fahrenheit 451 and one
other book before we can do anything else. Then … well, maybe I’ll have
to talk to Mr. Madero about possibly using his class set.” I lightly bite
down on the inside of my cheek as I allow my eyes to drift over the
two of them.
Elena squeals and claps her hands.
Damon just smirks.
And me? I scowl at him. Jerk. He thinks he’s got me right where he
wants me.
Elena looks back and forth between us, brows raised. I guess she
decides her work here is done. “Hey, can I get a pass to class?”
“Good idea.” Damon quickly pulls a pad of hall passes out of his
drawer and writes one out for her so she can be on her way.
After she leaves, I prop my hip on the desk, eyeing him as he goes
back to work without another word.
“So, I guess that was a great moment for you, when my class found
out what your class is reading.” He just shakes his head, but I can see
his lips twitching. “And I assume you let Jake know that I wasn’t here
first thing?”
His gaze swings to mine. “I did. I thought he should know.”
My brows pinch together, as I glare at him, only the longer that goes
on, my face becomes warmer, until I’m sure I’m a bright enough pink to
match my blouse.
He wets his firm, masculine lips, and it pisses me off that my eyes
follow them.
“Well, thanks for that,” I huff.
He chuckles, knowingly. “Why are you mad? I saved your ass this
morning, didn’t I?”
My eyes narrow on his as I’m filled with disbelief. “Yes, you saved
my ass, but you’re trying to take my promotion.”
He shrugs at me with a grin. “Semantics, sweetheart.”
 “Don’t you sweetheart me.”
“Fine. I won’t anything you. And I won’t help you anymore. I’ll just
get back to work.”
Thinking back to what I just walked in on, I let out a frustrated
sigh.
Quietly, I admit, “You were good with her.”
He shrugs, but doesn’t look up. “She’s my sister. She needed me.”
I’m suddenly curious about the man who has already done two
things today that I hadn’t expected, even though part of it will
definitely come back to bite me. “You’re close, the two of you?”
“Yes.” He jots something down on a notepad before looking up at me.
“There’s a pretty big age difference between you, huh?” My forehead
wrinkles, trying to do the mental math.
“Yeah. She’s the baby. She’s twelve years younger.”
“Wow. So, do you have other siblings, then?”
“Yep. Two other sisters. We’re each about four years apart. Arabella is
twenty-five and Esme is twenty-one.” He rattles it off like it’s no big
deal, but I wonder what it was like growing up in a house with so
many women.
“Oh.” No wonder it didn’t bother him to offer me something for my
cramps. I’d bet money Elena has him keeping tampons in his drawer,
too. My lips tease into a small smile, loving the idea of that. A gruff,
masculine man who keeps feminine products on hand for his little sister.
I press my lips together, trying not to giggle.
“It seems like you’re feeling better?” He says it like he’s asking.
I give him a quick nod. “Yeah, I’m okay now.”
He drops his pen and angles his body toward me. One hand scrubs
over the top of his head. “Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable
by offering the Midol—I was just trying to help.”
 I slowly shake my head. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. Not
really. And now that I know you have three sisters, I get why …” I lick
my lower lip before I continue. “I don’t think you want anyone to know
you’re a softie, do you? It was very sweet to see how you are with
Elena.” My gaze drops to the floor, and my voice catches a little. “And
even with me.”
He grunts and turns back to his work. “It was nothing.” His jaw
goes rigid and he won’t look at me, though I know he can tell I’m still
focused on him.
I bite my lip and decide to let it go for now. It hadn’t been nothing
to me. For as much as some of it may cause me issues with Jake, Damon
had stepped in and helped me today, and I appreciate it. He didn’t have
to. And now it’s like he’s flipped a switch and he’s back to the old pain
in the ass Damon I’m used to. Swallowing hard, I sit down at my desk
to work.
Fine. Be that way. I’m going to have to pull out all the stops to earn
this position, anyway. This just makes me feel better in regard to getting
approval to include my eleventh graders on the field trip Hadleigh and
Sawyer are organizing to see a matinee of Hamilton at a theater in
Boston. It’s a tiny bit of a stretch, but I’d approached Jake and told him
I want to introduce some different forms of writing, like scripts for plays
and musicals. He’d liked that idea—you know, in the name of fresh
ideas for his department. He even said he’d like to bring one of his
classes along as well, so now there’s a whole crew of us going. He’d
helped me push approval through quickly to get us funding. Hopefully,
this will show Jake that I can take the initiative to make things happen,
too.
C HA PTER 10
 PIPE R

When I get home, I toss my school bag and purse onto the couch before
heading for the bottle of wine I hadn’t finished last night. Full glass in
one hand, I deposit the bottle on the coffee table, then head to my
bedroom to peel off my work clothes and get into something more
comfortable. For every article of clothing I remove, I take another sip of
my merlot. Before I know it, I’ve downed the entire glass.
Wandering back out to the living room, I pour myself some more—
fuck it, it’s Valentine’s Day, right?—then flop down on the other end of
the couch. It doesn’t take me more than thirty seconds to realize the
chocolate bar Zoey left on my desk at the end of the day is floating
around in my purse somewhere, so I lean over and drag the purse into
my lap. Dark chocolate goes great with merlot, right? I sift through the
contents, finding the bar all the way at the bottom like a delicious
buried treasure. I settle back into the couch cushions, kick my feet up
and, for the first time in five days, open the Tryst app, chewing
nervously on my lip as I do. I feel badly about leaving Prof.M. hanging,
but I don’t know what to say to him. I like him a lot, but I’m a little
afraid I’m in over my head.
I place a square of decadent chocolate in my mouth and take another
sip of wine. I’ll have to remember to thank Zoey. I hadn’t realized when
she said she had chocolate, she’d meant the really good kind.
Focusing on my phone now, my brows raise as I realize Prof.M. had
indeed given me time to think—right up until this afternoon, in fact.
He’d left several messages right in a row about an hour ago.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Hey.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I kind of miss you.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Is that pathetic?
My heart takes off at a gallop because yes, I’ve missed him, too. I
press one hand to my chest, right over the mad thumping. I have a little
aww moment, then nibble on my lip, wondering what I should say.
Mulling over some options, I eat another square of chocolate and have
some more wine—only this time it’s more than a sip. I practically chug
the entire glass, not sure how to respond to him. Do I want to answer? I
mean, this could be the point where I ghost him, but that’s about the
bitchiest thing to do to someone who has really been nothing but kind
to me. With a sigh, I tap out a quick response and send it, then squeeze
my eyes shut, hoping maybe he’s too busy to message me back right
now.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: It’s a little strange, but not pathetic. I miss

you, too.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I just want to hold you in my arms, like
I’ve imagined in my head so many times. Kiss you. Maybe more. ;)
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Well, don’t get all shy now. That’s not what
you said you wanted to do to me before …
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Fine. I’ll own up to what I want—if you do.
 I’ve typed out something naughty and sent it, just as his response
pops up.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I want to bury my cock inside of you.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’d like to know your name so I know what
to scream when you’re making me come.

Oh, shit. I’ve gone and done it now. Damn that merlot. I eye my
glass, which is sitting empty again. Yep. Definitely need more now. I
pour the remaining wine and take a big gulp.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: That’s my girl.

The smile that hits my face is instantaneous and ridiculously giddy.
Okay, time to put the brakes on.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: :) Gotta run. I’ve got some work to do.

Of course, I don’t really have to go anywhere. I just need to not go
any further overboard than I already have. Flipping into my text
messages, I pull up a long-running group chat with my girlfriends.

Me: I’m in need of more chocolate and more wine. I think I have a
situation brewing.
Zoey: Oh shit, I totally forgot to bring you the chocolate.
Zoey: I’m sorry!
Me: Wait, what?
A deep wrinkle forms on my brow. What does she mean she forgot?
I’m literally finishing off what she’d left on my desk right now. My lips
part and my eyes shift back and forth, trying to think about who else
could have left it.

Me: Did any of you leave it for me?

Hadleigh: I was going to give you some from my stash in my
classroom, but then I saw you had some on your desk already.
Hadleigh: OMG, a secret admirer left Valentine’s Day chocolate for you?
Hadleigh: Hard swoon. I thought that only happened in Hallmark
movies.
Quinn: Wasn’t me, girl, though maybe we single ladies should have
thought to have done something for each other.
Madison: Sorry, it wasn’t me either. Gotta run. Shawn’s taking me to
dinner.
Hadleigh: Sawyer’s cooking for me tonight. <3
Me: I’m not afraid to say I’m jealous of both of you. I’m sitting here
drunk on half a bottle of wine and all I’ve eaten is most of this bar of
really freaking good dark chocolate.

I pick up the bottle and tilt it over my glass trying to shake out the
last little bit of goodness. When I lift the glass with no more than a sip
inside, I pout to myself. Freaking awesome Valentine’s Day. Maybe I’ll
crack open another bottle. That’ll make tomorrow fun for sure. Freaking
Damon would have to come to my rescue again.

Zoey: Oh, man. LOL Maybe it was Sophia. I think she and Heath are
out on a Valentine’s date.
Quinn: Yep, that’s right. The lovebirds are out on the town tonight.
Sophia: Hey, wait, I’m here!
Sophia: Heath saw my phone lighting up and told me I’d better check
in before you all interrupted his plans for later.
Hadleigh: Yaaaasss, girl! There’s a party in his pants later and you’re
invited.
Quinn: <snort> OMG, Hadleigh. Stop.
Sophia: But, nope, it wasn’t me.
Zoey: It’s a mystery. Maybe you really do have a secret admirer.
Quinn: Does anyone want to get together Friday night? Maybe hit
Shawn’s bar for karaoke or something?
Me: Agh. I can’t. I’m chaperoning the dance. Had to get my required
extracurricular event in.
Hadleigh: Oh! Oh! Maybe the secret admirer will reveal himself at the
dance!
Sophia: You know who else is on the list for chaperones, right?
Me: Well, you and Heath, right?
Sophia: And Damon.
Me: Ah, shit.
Hadleigh: That is one fine specimen of man-meat.
Zoey: Oh, boy. Here she goes …
Me: Isn’t Sawyer enough for you, Had?
Hadleigh: Totally. But a lady can look, can’t she?
Zoey: Hey, speaking of looking, you’ve been missing out on him at the
gym.
Quinn: Yup. That man can fight. He was sparring with some kid and
they were all sweaty chests and muscles.
Hadleigh: Oh man, I knew I should have done those barre classes!
Sophia: So, wait. Is there a reason we think Damon would have left you
the chocolate?
Me: What? No. He wouldn’t have.
Hadleigh: Are you sure? His desk is right there.
 And that’s when it clicks in my head. Aw, hell. Period. Cramps.
Midol.
Chocolate. That damn man left me a chocolate bar. I’ve just reached
a new level of mortification. I bite down hard on my lip, which
normally would hurt but I’ve had enough wine that it doesn’t.
Damon Madero left me freaking period chocolate. I toss my phone
down, get up, and stumble my way into the kitchen, ripping the fridge
open to grab a bottle of water. I chug it before dropping the bottle into
recycling and heading back to my phone in the living room.

Me: OMG. OMG. OMG. OMG.

Me: He totally knew I was late this morning because I had cramps.
Me: He even gave me his little sister’s bottle of Midol.
Sophia: AHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAAAA.
Quinn: Oh man, this is too good.
Zoey: So, we think it was him?
Hadleigh: Oh, hell yes! I seriously can’t wait to watch this go down in
our workroom.
Me: You guys, he’s just trying to get under my skin. He knows I’m
pissed about competing with him.
Me: He’s being extra nice just to make me mad.
Madison: Hey, girls! I’m back for just a sec.
Madison: I came to the ladies’ room as soon as we got to the restaurant
so I could check in. I’m dead. This is too much.

It really is too much. Now I have to go to school tomorrow and try

to focus on work and not on the fact that Damon-freaking-Madero gave
me chocolate.
On one hand … oh my God, how sweet … but on the other, oh my
God, he’s totally trying to wheedle himself into my good graces so that
when he snatches the department chair position from me, I won’t be able
to say a damn thing.
Because truth be told, he’s done well coming up with good ideas and
has totally helped me out lately. This can’t be how this all goes down,
though. This can’t be how everything I’ve worked toward for the last
several years gets wiped away.
It doesn’t occur to me until much later, once the haze of wine has
lifted, that I’d forgotten the whole reason why I’d started texting my
girls in the first place. I still have no clue what to do about Prof.M.
C HA PTER 11
 D A M ON

I miss her. Whoever “she” is, anyway. I’ve missed her quick wit and dry
sense of humor. I’ve missed the way she argues with me, not scared for
a second to share her own viewpoints. I’ve missed the naughty things
that have come out in her messages. Yep. I’ve missed her a whole hell of
a lot.
The image in my head of her is no longer enough. Not to mention,
the last time I jerked off, I’d been thinking about her. Which would be
fine, except at some point my unsubstantiated image of Sherlock4Love
had morphed into Piper.
And … it hadn’t stopped me. In fact, I’d come so hard, I thought I
wouldn’t recover. I’d been weak in the knees from it. Energy completely
depleted. Dizzy.
It’s fucking crazy, is what it is.
So, I need to meet this woman from Tryst. I just don’t know how to
convince her to agree to it—especially since she’s gone a bit radio silent
on me when I bring it up. Not total silence, though. Those last messages
were something else.
With a quick glance down at my phone, I see it’s 3:25 p.m. and I’m
due in Jake’s classroom for our department meeting in five.
 Just as I’m about to gather my things and move in that direction,
Piper bursts in like a whirlwind, heels clicking, opens the bottom drawer
of her desk, and pulls out a container. She gives me a sheepish grin.
My eyes zip to the clear-sided container like flies to honey. Ah, tell
me she didn’t. “Are those what I think they are?”
A look of delight crosses her face as my mouth drops open. “Can’t
hurt, right?” She winks and hustles out of the workroom before I can
say anything more.
I work my jaw back and forth. That sneak. I chuckle to myself. Well,
I guess this means she hasn’t quite given up yet. She brought cookies for
our meeting—Jake’s favorites. I guess the suck-up battle is still going full
force, from big things like my excellent strategy of introducing new
books to the curriculum all the way down to the little things like Piper’s
bribery cookies.
In Jake’s room, I grab a cookie before sliding into one of the student
desks across from him and next to Piper. Kent comes in last, his face
brightening when he spies the cookies.
“Ooh, cookies. Who brought these?”
I clear my throat. “That’d be Piper.” I shoot a faux-disgruntled look
in her direction as I bite off a huge chunk of cookie and chew. Fuck,
she makes a damn good cookie. My gaze doesn’t leave hers until Jake
gets started with the meeting. It’s almost like I’m issuing her a challenge.
My eyes say, Bring it. And her pretty brown ones come right back with
a very distinct, Pretty sure I’ve already brought it.
“Kent and Damon.” Jake holds up a piece of paper. “You’ll be seeing
kids collecting signatures for their permission slips over the next few
days. I want to make sure the two of you are agreeable to welcoming
any of the students who decide not to go with us on the trip next week
into your classes that day. It’s Wednesday. We were really very lucky
that Mrs. Smith helped us get approval so quickly.”
 What trip?
Jake must see the unamused look on my face because he’s quick to
say, “It should only be a handful.” He stumbles on. “Most of them are
really excited to go see the screening of Hamilton with us.”
Well, of course they are. My irritation level begins to rise. Not
because I can’t watch some extra kids for a day, but because she’d
purposely planned this without me knowing.
My gaze swings to Piper, who is grinning as big as the Cheshire Cat.
I give her a what the hell is this? look, to which she responds with a
smile, her berry-colored lips pressing together as if she’s trying not to
laugh.
I glance over at Jake with as much of a smile as I can manage.
“Sure. No problem at all.”
After we finish other business, I collect my things. I’m not bitter, or
at least, I’m trying not to be. Field trips are a pretty big deal, and a
surefire way to impress. Especially since she’s gotten Jake to go with her.
I just can’t believe I didn’t hear a word about it until now. I shake my
head as I walk out the door.
Piper follows right behind me. I give her a quick glance, realizing
she’s on her way back to the workroom, too, so I can’t even be alone to
wrap my head around this … this … subterfuge. Fuck.
She hurries right along next to me. “It’s a field trip, Damon. It’s not
a big deal.”
“Don’t play coy with me. You know it’s a huge deal. Hamilton? Why
didn’t you tell me about this trip?” Ugh. I mean, we bicker pretty much
nonstop, but we also talk quite a bit since we have planning and lunch
together nearly every damn day. How had this not come up? Except—I
shake my head. She must really want this position badly, which is really
terrible because I have no choice but to go for it. My family’s future
depends on it.
 “Oh, well, we had already planned it out.” She tilts her head to the
side, studying me as she sets her things onto her desk. When I don’t
immediately respond, she pulls the cookie container open and proceeds to
break a piece off of one.
I watch that damn cookie as she puts it into her mouth and force a
growl back down before it can escape. I could watch her eat cookies all
damn day. Fuck. She’s toying with me. I close my eyes, and my breath
puffs out in a short burst. “We, who?”
Her slim shoulders lift quickly to her ears and back down. “Hadleigh
wanted Sawyer to have the experience of planning a field trip with her
before his student teaching is over, and I asked Jake if we could join in
to help chaperone. Half of our kids are in the history classes that are
going, so we didn’t even have to get another bus, we just added a few
extra kids and got some extra tickets. There wasn’t even much of an
expenditure for our department.” She turns and bends over to pick up
her school bag from underneath the desk.
Despite how irritated I am about this fucking field trip, my gaze
roves over her full hips and ass in the sexy pencil skirt she’s wearing. I
swear, she’s a sneaky she-devil in disguise. Feeling annoyed by how
much I like the view, I take a second to rearrange things south of my
belt while she’s packing her bag.
“Hadleigh and Sawyer are, of course, taking on the historical aspect
of it, while we are going to be discussing scripts for plays and musicals
in our classes. It’s straying a little bit from the curriculum, but—” She
whirls around to face me.
“I bet Jake liked that. Too bad there’s no room for anyone else to join
in.” My chest rises and falls quickly as I take a step toward her,
effectively forcing her to back into the desk behind her. “Did you do
that on purpose?” My brows lift in question and I smile, but it doesn’t
quite reach my eyes. I already know the answer.
 Her eyes flick to mine, then down toward my body as I take another
step forward. Slowly, her gaze drifts from my chest to meet my eyes. I
don’t know whether it’s seconds or minutes that we stand like that,
breath coming fast and strangely labored by being close together—
probably too close together. Her gaze drops to my lips, and as I watch,
her tongue darts out to wet hers.
My dick twitches in my pants. As if to remind me he’s there and
would very much like to meet the pretty lady in front of me. Dammit.
This has got to stop happening.
She shrugs, then reaches behind her, and before I realize what she’s
doing, she picks up a cookie and shoves it between my parted lips.
“We’ve got it handled, Damon.” She wrinkles her nose and sidesteps me.
“Thanks for playing, though.”
C HA PTER 12
 PIPE R

I’ve been on cloud nine since my big win this week with the field trip.
Damon had been fairly ticked off. The look on his face when he’d
realized I’d gotten the drop on him with it had been comical. So funny.
He should never, ever assume I’m not a worthy adversary. I’m Sherlock,
dammit.
He’s been avoiding me the last few days, ducking out of the
workroom whenever I’m there and not showing up early, like we are
both known to do. It’s not enough to make me change my plans, or ruin
my natural high, though. I owe Sophia big time for the initial field trip
idea, and Hadleigh, too, for jumping onboard with the plan. It’s put me
right back in the running for the coveted chair position, and I no longer
feel like a big loser who is just struggling to keep up. Things are looking
up.
And things are good with Prof.M., too. I think he’s finally got me
figured out. Push me too hard, and I dig my heels in. He seems to have
backed off, slowing things down. We’ve had several days of relaxed
conversation, returning to our Sherlock roots. I’m willing to wager he’s
trying not to scare me away. And, really, it’s not that I wouldn’t like to
meet him. I’m just nervous. Taking the step to download the Tryst app
in the first place took almost everything I had. I never expected to find
someone I clicked with right off the bat. Never expected to start feeling
things … wanting things.
I pull up to the school and park my car for the big dance, knowing
I’m about ten minutes early. My phone’s been pinging with notifications
for a few minutes, so I decide it can’t hurt to take a quick few minutes
to engage in a verbal battle with Prof.M. Because, yep, opening up Tryst,
I see that’s exactly who it is.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: So, do you think Sherlock actually has

Asperger’s or is he really a high-functioning sociopath like he says he is
in the show?
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I don’t think it matters. Back when Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle created Sherlock Holmes, there was no such
designation as Asperger’s. I mean, I guess it’s possible that he’d be on the
autism spectrum.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Probable, you mean.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I mean, a sociopath has volatile behavioral
patterns, characterized by emotional outbursts and a lack of self-control.
They can form attachments to other people and even enjoy being around
them.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Now, someone with Asperger’s has a
neurodevelopmental disorder characterized by significant difficulties in
social interaction and nonverbal communication, along with restricted
and repetitive patterns of behavior and interests.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: General rule of thumb, if I’m not mistaken,
is that people with Asperger’s have emotions, they just process differently
and present them differently to people. They emote in different ways.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Sociopaths are generally dysfunctional, their
issues usually caused by something like a troubled childhood or a history
of abuse.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Which is also different than a psychopath,
who would try to hide the fact that they don’t feel those emotions to
blend in with society. They’re very cunning and manipulative, with no
empathy whatsoever. And, in contrast, their issues are more likely rooted
in genetics, or possibly head injury.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: So, sociopathy or Asperger’s for Sherlock, I’m
still not sure we can definitively say. You realize we are trying to
diagnose a fictional character, right?
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Where’d you go? I thought we were having
a real discussion.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I was just trying to get a rise out of you. It
totally worked.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: You’re evil.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Moriarty is my name.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I should have known better. :)
With that, I tuck my phone into the clutch I’d brought with me. I’m
suddenly regretting my choice of footwear as I open my car door to find
I’m parked in a pile of slush and ice. Great. With my luck, I’ll bite the
big one on my way in. My fancy heels are not so great in this weather.
Deciding against taking my coat in—because where am I going to put it?
—I adjust the straps of my dress, brush the tulle of the skirt into place,
and exit my car as gracefully as I can.
Grumbling to myself that we should totally have valet parking at
events like this, I painstakingly make my way across the parking lot to
the back door of the gym where the dance is taking place, freezing my
ass off the whole way.
Out of nowhere, my heels hit a patch of ice, and I feel myself about
to go down when a firm hand grasps my elbow, preventing my fall.
 Heart in my throat, my head swivels to the side. Strong hand. My
eyes flick up. Broad man chest in a dark-gray suit coat. My eyes shift
higher. Corded neck, rugged jaw.
Dark eyes. My breath stutters out.
Damon.
“Hi.” I shake my head. “I mean, thanks.”
He gives me a tight smile. “Do you have things under control now?”
Exhaling carefully, I nod.
“Then let’s go in.” He releases my elbow, but before I know what he
intends, I find my arm tucked against his side, my hand folded into the
crook of his elbow.
My mind shrieks to snatch my arm away, but I don’t. He’s strong
and warm and looks so freaking good in his suit. I’d have to be crazy to
pull away.
Or am I crazy because I’m allowing him to lead me into the dance
like we’re here together? Jesus, we’re technically working, and I know if
I turned my head just a little more to the right …
Yep. His manly scent drifts right off him and up my nose, a
tantalizing mixture of cologne, deodorant, and something that just
screams Damon, though for the life of me, I don’t know what it is.
A little whimper escapes my lips just as we walk through the
doorway. Damon’s gaze snaps to mine, and he gives me the sliest grin—
like he knows the thoughts running through my head or can feel the
sensations coursing through my body like warmed honey. I’m feeling
decidedly like I may melt when I take a deep breath and pat his arm.
“Thank you for the assist.”
He looks at me, a strange glint in his eyes. “Anytime, Piper.”
I blink, then edge away, finally tearing my eyes from him to go in
search of my friends. I spot Sophia and Heath looking gorgeous in a
shimmery dark-pink gown and navy suit and tie, respectively. Damn,
they are a dreamy couple.
The gym floor is crowded as I make my way to where they are
watching over students near one of the tables full of heart-shaped, pink-
frosted cookies, sodas, and bottled water. It strikes me when I reach
them that I’ve barely noticed all the red and pink balloons floating
about, the paper heart decorations hanging down from the rafters, or the
giddy teenagers dancing and having a good time. Awesome chaperone
I’m going to be tonight.
With eyes wide, Sophia pulls me in to her and whispers in my ear,
“What the hell was that?”
I shake my head and mumble. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” I press
my hands to either side of my head, trying to think clearly.
She grasps my arms, gently pulling them down. “Breathe, Piper.”
The air I’d been holding in my lungs comes out in short bursts. My
eyes meet hers and then Heath’s before I wave my hands in front of my
face for a few seconds, fanning myself. “I almost fell on the ice out
there, and Damon caught me. But then he insisted on walking me in,
and—”
Heath chuckles, sliding a glance at me. “Damon’s a good guy. We’ve
even met up for drinks before. I’m sure he was just being a gentleman,
Piper.”
I whisper-shout, “‘Gentleman’? That gentleman has been doing
everything he can to ensure that I have a hard time being mad at him
all while he steals the department chair position right out from under
me.”
Sophia wrinkles her nose and slides a glance at Heath. “We’re just
going to go have a little girl talk. Be right back.”
She leads me to a quiet corner where we can still face the dance and
observe the students like we’re supposed to be doing. She crosses her
arms in front of her, eyes scanning over the dancers, then side-eyes me.
“Piper, you seem really flustered. Like more flustered than I’ve ever seen
you over anything. Is there some other underlying issue? Maybe we can
talk it out.”
My blood is pumping rapidly through my body, creating the loudest
whoosh, whoosh, whoosh noise in my ears, making it impossible to think
straight. I blink and shake my head as I try to clear it. “I’m—I don’t
know.” I bite my lip to stop myself from talking, but the understanding I
see in her eyes has it all just gushing out of me like a geyser spurting
everywhere. “I think I may be attracted to him, but there’s this whole
situation with the job. And then, you don’t even know this yet because I
got so distracted the other day with Damon taking over my class and
the Midol and the Valentine’s Day period chocolate that I didn’t get a
chance to tell you and then I missed my chance and I was too
embarrassed.” I stop for a quick breath and cringe. “That was an awful,
horrible, run-on sentence.” I huff. “But there’s this guy I met on a dating
app and I like him, too, and he wants to meet me and I keep saying
sexy stuff to him that kind of isn’t me, but he’s clearly bringing it out in
me, and oh my God, I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like my
whole world is spinning around and it makes me feel dizzy and I’m just
trying to hang on.”
I stop and stare at Sophia, my lower lip trembling. Her mouth opens
and closes a few times. “Wow. I don’t know which aspect of that has
you the most worked up, but you’ve been holding an awful lot of stuff
in.”
Nodding, I say, “I know. I’m really confused.”
“So, let me summarize what you said, just to make sure I’ve got it.
You like this guy on the app, but you said some naughty stuff and now
you’re nervous to meet him. Then you’ve got Damon being nice, and
you feel like you might be attracted to him, but you’ve got the whole
work issue looming over both of you. Is that right?”
I let out the biggest sigh known to womankind. “Yes. That’s pretty
much it.”
“Well, don’t look now, but problem number two is headed this way.”
C HA PTER 13
 D A M ON

On my way across the gym to talk to Piper, I get waylaid by Elena and
her friend Marcy, both of them gussied up and full of excitement.
Elena gives me an excited, cheeky grin. “Damon—I mean, Mr. Madero
—” She pauses, like she’s trying to decide whether to ask me something.
“Did we see you come in with Ms. Mathison?” She taps her fingertip to
her lip. “I thought that’s what I saw, but then we thought, surely not.”
Well, that’s not something I want to discuss with my sister in the
middle of a school dance, and definitely not with her friend.
“I was merely making sure she didn’t fall on the way up the
sidewalk. Her shoes were slipping on the ice.”
“Bummer. We thought you looked kind of cute together.”
Marcy giggles and whispers to Elena behind her hand. “Oh, Marcy
had a good idea just now! You should totally dance with her.”
I scratch my head, pretending like I don’t understand what they are
getting at. “‘Her’? Who are we talking about?” I wink at Marcy, who
giggles again.
“Damon. You know who.” She gives me her best duh face. “Teachers
are allowed to dance some. You should ask her.” She plants her hands
on her hips and cocks her head to the side. “She’s just standing over
there with Ms. Caringello. Girls like to dance.”
 When did my youngest sister get so grown up that she thinks she
can offer me advice on women?
“And her dress is so pretty, Damon. You should tell her.”
I’d noticed the dress as I was coming up behind her. It’s a deep red
and nips in at the waist. The material at the bottom of the dress just
seems to float around her like a red cloud. I steal a peek in her direction
out of the corner of my eye.
Her hair is done up in an intricate braid knotted on top of her head,
leaving her neck bare. I’ve already established that I’m a fan of that—but
now I’m getting a look at her bare shoulders, too, and it’s like a full-
strength kick right to my gut. She’s goddamn stunning, and the best
part is I’m not sure she has a clue.
“Maybe I’ll just talk to her. How about that?”
“Fine, but talk about something other than school.” Elena rolls her
eyes at me. “We’re going to go try the cookies.” She pats me on the arm.
“You can do it.”
I chuckle. “Thanks, Elena.” The girls walk away and my eyes stray
to where Piper is talking to Sophia over in the corner. Maybe my sister
has a point. I shake my head and run my hand over my jaw. Slowly,
steadily, my feet begin their journey to the other side of the gym.
What my sister doesn’t realize is that I was already on my way over
to Piper, but then Sophia had walked away with her, ushering her over
to a corner to talk. I’ve got to say, that bit caught my attention. Had I
done something wrong? I know she’s a little prickly toward me right
now, but I didn’t think it would carry over to a school dance. Maybe
I’m fooling myself, though. More and more, I’m getting the sense that
this job is a big deal to her, but I can’t tell if it’s because it’s something
that she wants, something her parents want, or a combination of the
two. She’s a damn fine teacher, and I wish there were a way I could
accept the job without it hurting her because I’m beginning to see that’s
what’s happening. That’s why she’s so averse to every little kindness I
show her right now. That’s why she’s shying away from me. At least I
think so, anyway. I’d like to think I understand women pretty well.
Then again, my sisters may claim otherwise.
My gaze travels over the students on the dance floor to others on the
sidelines eating cookies and still others who have gathered in groups,
their laughter a good sign that the dance is a success. Because that’s
what I’m supposed to be here for—to chaperone.
Too bad my mind has other ideas and keeps straying to Piper. I wish
it didn’t have to be like this. She’ll probably be royally pissed off when
she learns what I’d spoken with Jake about earlier today, so I may as
well try to make nice right now. With a sigh, I head in Piper’s direction,
only to stop short when I notice Elena stop to whisper something to her
quickly before slinking off.
Oh, hell. What is my sister doing? She giggles as she walks away
with Marcy at her side. I swear, the two of them are completely devious.
Sophia sees me coming and, for some reason, decides it’s time to
rejoin her fiancé. At least there won’t be anyone to witness whatever is
about to go down.
I put on my best game face as I approach. “Hey. What’s Elena up to
now?”
Piper’s face is flushed, her cheeks almost a perfect match for her
dress. “Oh, um …” She looks down at her clasped hands, biting her lip.
Her eyes flick up to mine. “She said you’d mentioned that you were
hoping to dance with me.”
My brows raise ever so slightly. I study the way the color on her
cheeks deepens before I question, “Did she?”
Her teeth sink deeper into her plump lip, and my gaze is drawn
there, lingering for a moment before meeting hers again. Emotion swirls
in her eyes, but I can’t be certain what I’m seeing.
 And then it hits me. It’s longing. Fuck me, I think it’s longing.
Without further thought, I reach for her hand, taking it in mine. As
if it was meant to be, a slow song begins to play through the speaker
system. And slowly, I pull her a little bit closer to me, my other hand
landing on her hip as hers comes to rest on my shoulder. My fingers
flex and bunch in the fluffy material of her dress at the same time my
insides riot with the knowledge her body is so close to mine.
We begin to move together, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever
experienced before. At my age, I’ve done my fair share of dating, fair
share of dancing, but I’ve never felt like this with a woman in my arms.
Never. She’s like a hazy, beautiful daydream, and I want to live in it
with her for as long as I can. My body practically vibrates with the need
to sweep her closer, to press the length of her body to mine. But I can’t
—not now. And it’s not just where we are. I’m certain if I did that,
she’d run. There’s too much between us on the work end of things and
—fuck. She quakes, a tremor rolling right through her. Both of my hands
squeeze in reassurance, one at her hip, the other at her hand as my
head dips down next to hers. With my lips near the shell of her ear, I
rasp, “You are breathtaking.” She shifts, her face turning toward my
neck. “I mean it. You’re flawless. I’m utterly stunned.” She’s warm and
soft in all the right places, and she smells so goddamn good, I have to
fight the urge to nip at her neck and see how her skin tastes.
But, no. We’re at school, maintaining a slightly less-than-appropriate
distance from each other. In fact—
The song ends, and I ease away from her. She looks up at me, and
my heart squeezes right in my chest at the tormented look in her eyes. I
don’t—
“I’ve got to get some air. I’ll be right back.” She hurries to one of the
side doors, pushes it open, and races away from me.
C HA PTER 14
 D A M ON

I don’t know how to take that. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I turn

and look back toward the center of the gym. All appears to be well and
in hand. Then I see Sophia shoo at me and nod toward the door Piper
had exited through.
Making haste, I leave the building, carefully putting a doorstop in
place before looking around outside. Piper hadn’t gone far, as the
sidewalk isn’t very well shoveled. It’s damn near thirty degrees out
tonight, yet she appears to be content to shiver in her strappy dress,
arms wrapped around herself. I can’t tell if she even knows anyone else
is out here with her. Quickly, I remove my suit coat before stepping up
behind her. My voice is low so as to not startle her when I say, “Put
this on.”
She glances back at me, eyes flaring wide. With a shake of her head,
she silently announces her intention to let herself freeze.
“Don’t be silly, Pipe—”
Slam. Both of our heads whip around toward the sound. Behind us,
the door has swung shut, locking us out here in the cold. Ah, hell. Just
what we needed. I edge closer to Piper, lean in and whisper, “You will
take my coat.” I arrange it over her shoulders before I turn back to the
door and pound on it a few times. With my hands braced against it, I
drop my head, shaking it briefly. Awesome. The music is loud enough
inside that they can’t hear us, and “Cupid Shuffle” has just started. I
can hear the damned instructions coming from inside to move right,
move left, and kick, kick, kick, and, holy fuck, no one is going to be
paying attention to us trapped out here.
I turn and push away from the door in time to see Piper full-on
shaking from the cold. Surveying the area around us, I’m pretty sure the
only way we’re going to get back into the building is to walk all the
way around to the main door. Unfortunately, there’s about a foot of
snow on the ground and because there’s no sidewalk that circles the
building, there’s nothing to be done but trudge right through it. That, or
we stand here and keep pounding on the door in hopes that someone
hears us. Who the hell removes a doorstop? Doesn’t that mean someone
put it there for a reason? The fuck? Seriously. I’m irritated, but know I
need to take action. I beat my fists against the door one more time, but
no one comes to open it.
“Nobody can hear that over the music.” Piper’s voice drifts to me
from where she stands, her back to me again.
I chuckle, frustrated. “Yeah, I know. I was just hoping  …” I walk
back over to her, pluck my suit coat from her shoulders, and turn her
around with gentle pressure from my hand. I know she’s bound to fight
me on it because she doesn’t seem to want my help. I hold it out to her
with a grim smile. “Put your arms in the sleeves.”
Her lips press together, and I can see her mentally weigh her options.
“Just put it on. Please?”
With a shiver, she nods, allowing me to help her slide her arms into
the coat. Before she can argue, I wrap my arm behind her, stoop and
swing her into my arms, her fluffy dress poofing everywhere. She gasps
and holds on, her arm across my shoulders. The feeling of her body
cradled against my chest may be my new favorite thing, and with those
wide eyes focused on me, all I can think about is leaning in and
covering her lips with mine.
“Damon, what are you doing?” Her warm breath puffs out between
us, and I find myself fully fixated on her soft berry lips.
“I’m taking us around the building so you don’t freeze to death out
here.”
“Put me down.” She squirms a bit, so to stop her, I take my first
steps off the sidewalk.
“Nope.” I stride as fast as I can through the foot of snow.
“I’m too heavy. I can walk.”
I grunt and then laugh a bit. “Come on, Piper. You’re not walking
through the snow in your heels.” I pause. “And you’re not too heavy.
You’re just right.”
She tightens her arm behind my neck. “Promise?”
“It’s like an extra workout. I’m good. Are you trying to imply I’m not
strong enough to carry you?”
“Yes. I mean, no. Clearly not.” She huffs. “This has never happened
to me before.”
“What? Getting locked outside a gym and having a whole student
body ignore our pounding on the door? Being carried around a huge
building so you don’t freeze to death in those pretty heels and this
dress?” I snicker. “Yeah, me neither.” As I exert myself further, my breath
can be seen in the frigid air.
She squirms, making it more difficult to hold her. “No. I meant no
one has ever had to carry me like this. I can walk the rest. I’m fine.”
The hand that I have wrapped around her legs is caught up in the
flounces of her dress and my fingers grasp her rounded thigh through
it. I swear, a blast of lust strong enough to knock me out slams into me,
coursing through my veins and straight down to my cock. “Would you
please just let me get you to the sidewalk without arguing with me?” I
grunt a little more. “I swear, woman, you argue more than anyone I
know.”
She doesn’t say anything for a full thirty seconds. But then, out of
nowhere, she whispers, “I think you like it.” She coyly looks up at me
from under her impossibly long eyelashes.
I groan and laugh. She has no idea what she’s doing to me—here I
am, walking through snow drifts, yet I’m burning from the inside out.
“That, I do. Let me set you down over here and you’ll be free to flay me
with your quick-witted tongue.” Finally, I step onto a shoveled area of
the sidewalk near the door we’d entered through earlier. I release her
legs, hoping to be able to set her down without further ado, but with
her arm still hooked around my neck, her soft curves slide part way
down my chest as her feet dangle above the sidewalk.
She makes a little whimpering sound in the back of her throat. Holy
shit. I glance down to see her full breasts firmly pressed against me
before her feet finally reach the ground. Steadying her, I let go, take a
step back, and give my feet a good stomping to distract myself. I
grimace at the cold, wet mess as I shake snow and chunks of ice off of
me. My feet are frozen, my dress shoes ruined, my suit pants soggy.
Sure hope my dry cleaner can at least take care of the pants.
Piper glances down, her lips part, and she stutters. “Oh-Oh, Damon,
shit, you must be freezing. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”
“Sure, it is. I was the one who went outside in the first place.”
“I’d ask you why you did that, but right now I’m going to go blast
the heater in my Pathfinder on my feet.” I hesitate to ask, but—fuck it.
“Want to come with me?”
Her gaze shoots to mine, and as I watch, her slim throat works to
swallow before she nods. “Um. Yeah, okay.” She takes one step toward
me, and her foot slides.
 I catch her around the waist and pick her right back up. “Making a
habit of this, are we?” I jostle her playfully in my arms and … she
laughs. It’s a beautiful, happy sound that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard
before from the prim, proper, and practically perfect Piper Mathison.
“It would seem so.”
With a smile to myself, I tighten my hold on her and stride quickly
to my faithful old Pathfinder.
Once there, I open the passenger door for her and help her in,
tucking her ruffly skirt in around her. “I’m just going to get some dry
socks and shoes out of the back.” I hand her the keys. “You can turn
the car on and get the heat going, if you want.” She nods, fingers
wrapping around the keys, and I close the door.
Moving to the rear of the vehicle, I can’t help but wonder if this is a
mistake or not. I guess we’ll find out. I open the tailgate, looking for the
towels I keep in the back and my gym bag, where I know I have clean
socks and athletic shoes. My phone vibrates in my pocket just as I turn
to sit down and take off my wet socks and shoes. I reach for it in my
pocket and spot the notification from Tryst. I glance over my shoulder.
Fuck, this is getting ridiculous. There’s the woman I seem to be having
changing feelings for, but who also comes with all sorts of reasons why
this may not work. And there’s the woman I’ve never seen but get along
well with, and whom I’d really like to meet so we can determine
whether we are better off as friends … or more. I haven’t dated anyone
in forever, and now I’m having thoughts about dating two women at
the same time. And fuck, I can’t do that to either of them. I’m not like
that. But how the hell do I choose? How do I let one of them go?
A low grumble leaves my throat as I tap the screen to open Tryst.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: How do we know meeting in person won’t

ruin everything?
 I blow out a frustrated breath.
From over my shoulder, Piper calls out, “Everything okay back
there?”
I groan. No. No, it’s not. It’s all kinds of fucked up. “Yeah, just
drying off my feet. Be right there.”

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: We don’t. Is it a chance you’re willing to

take?

I shove my phone back into my pocket and quickly towel my feet

dry before putting on fresh socks and shoes. There’s nothing to be done
for my suit pants right now, but I roll them up out of the way. They’re
half-ruined already, and I figure I may as well really mess them up. I
look like an idiot, but at least I’m slightly warmer now.
I close the tailgate and circle to the driver’s side, hurrying into the
vehicle. I can’t afford to think about Sherlock4Love when I have Piper at
my side. That’s not fair to her.
When I get in, it’s nice and warm. Piper has cranked the heat, and I
sigh with pleasure as I settle into my warmed seat. Out of the corner of
my eye, I take her in. She looks so pretty in her fancy dress with her
updo, but what really sells the whole image for me is that she hasn’t
taken off my suit coat. I like that—more than I probably should.
From beside me, Piper fidgets her hands in front of her, twisting
them together. “Your car is immaculate. Is it new?”
“No. It’s ten years old, actually.”
Her head turns to me and her face registers surprise. “What? How is
that possible? It even smells new.”
“I take care of my things so I don’t have to replace them
unnecessarily. It’s no big deal.” I pat the steering wheel. “And he’s been
a great vehicle for my whole family. Everyone fits.”
 “So, that’s three sisters …?”
“And my mom.”
She angles her body closer to me. “And your dad?”
I haven’t shared this with her before. Hell, I don’t talk to anyone
about it.
My gaze slides to the right, meeting her curious one. “We lost my
dad ten years ago.” I hesitate before continuing. “Cancer.”
Her face falls. “Oh  … I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” A line forms down
the center of her forehead, and I swear I see her open her mouth three
different times before anything comes out. “How old were you?”
“Nineteen.” I clear my throat. “Old enough to take care of my
family.” I nod to myself. “Dad would have wanted me to.”
She nibbles on her lip and I see all the gears in that perfectly quick
brain of hers grinding away. “So, Elena was seven?”
My lips pull into a tight line. “Yes.”
“You’ve helped raise her, then. Your other sisters, too, I’d wager.”
I shrug. “It’s no big deal. They are my life.” My heart pounds. I can’t
handle any more of this vein of conversation. “How was the chocolate?”
Her eyes flare wide at the mention of the treat I’d left on her desk
earlier this week. She hadn’t said a word about it after the fact, and I
wondered if I’d embarrassed her further by giving it to her.
“It was delicious, thank you. I—” She grasps my hand across the
center console and squeezes briefly before pulling hers away. “I should
have said something.” She covers her mouth and to my surprise, a tiny
little giggle-snort exits. “I had it with a whole bottle of merlot that night.
Happy Valentine’s Day to me!” She shrugs her shoulders inside my coat.
“It was appreciated.”
Our eyes lock across the center console. Her tongue darts out and
wets her lower lip and her chest rises with her deep inhale. I want her
to stay. I want to take her home. I want to do unspeakable things to
her.
“I should go. I’ll text Sophia and tell them we had an emergency
and had to leave. With six other chaperones, I should hope they can
make do without us.”
So much for taking her home.
She slowly opens the door and steps out. “Go home and get those
feet warm.”
She starts to shrug out of my coat, but I hold up my hand. “Just
bring it to school on Monday.”
“Okay. Thanks again, Damon.” With a beaming smile that almost sets
me off balance, almost has me forgetting that we are technically still
adversaries, she shuts the door with a soft click and waves.
I roll the window down and call out to her as I’m backing out.
“And our field trip is Wednesday?”
She whirls around, eyes widening to almost a comical size. “Our …?”
She sucks in a quick breath before narrowing her gaze at me. “You
didn’t.”
I wink at her and peel out of the parking lot. Because oh yes, I did.
C HA PTER 15
 PIPE R

I’m still fuming when I get back to my apartment. So help me, if that
man butted in on the field trip, heads will roll. He couldn’t give me one
win—couldn’t even let me feel good about how things were going for
just a little while. No.
And worse, he’d played me like a fucking fiddle tonight. Like a
goddamn fucking fiddle. He’d let me use his coat, kept me from falling
numerous times, carried me through mounds of snow  … he’d even
danced with me. He’d made me feel. I feel like a total freaking idiot.
And he did all this for what? To ease me into trusting him? To hide his
devious plan?
I feel like screaming, like pounding my head against the wall, like
throwing something and watching it shatter. My phone is like a lead
brick in my hand, and I almost chuck it across the room in a fit. I take
several deep breaths and then smile, feeling a little crazy. That’d be just
perfect. Damon would probably love it if I got so mad at myself that I
threw my phone and broke it. With a shake of my head, I sit down on
the couch and decide to text my girls. I glance down at what I’d sent
earlier before I’d driven away from the school.
Me: Sophia, we had an emergency and have to leave. I swear we aren’t
ditching you on purpose. Damon and I got locked out back and he had
to carry me all the way around the building through all the snow.
Me: He’s wet and cold, and I’m just … done.
Sophia: Well, that sounds fun. We’re still here, but kids are leaving now
anyway.
Zoey: OMG, you got stuck outside?
Hadleigh: You are missing the point, Z.
Hadleigh: He CARRIED her.
Madison: I think I just swooned.
Quinn: That man has all the moves.
Sophia: Piper hasn’t mentioned it yet, but he DANCED with her. It was
so damn romantic.
Me: No.
Me: Stop. I know it all sounds great, and I really thought it was at
first …
Me: The worst part is I actually enjoyed myself, but honestly? I think
he’s buttering me up.
Zoey: What? Why?
Me: Had, have you heard anything about him coming on our field trip?
Hadleigh: NO???
Me: Well, his parting words to me were something about “our” field trip.
Quinn: How’d he manage that?
Hadleigh: Sawyer hasn’t talked to him about it either.
Madison: That leaves Jake, right? Why wouldn’t he have said something
to you about it?
Me: Oh, who knows. Damon is very smooth.
Me: Never mind him, though, he’s totally not why I need you all
tonight.
Me: Had and Sophia already know this, but I’ve been talking to a guy
on that new dating app …
Zoey: Tryst, you mean? I’ve been thinking about creating a profile.
Me: Yeah. And you should. I found someone I like right away. I’m
trying to decide if I should meet up with him, and if so, how I should
go about it.
Me: Discuss.
And there’s silence for a full thirty seconds, which is completely
unlike my friends. I get up from the couch and start pacing. On my
second trip around the living room, my phone finally pings.

Quinn: Just stating the obvious, but a public place.

Sophia: Yep, in public, and don’t go anywhere with him.
Hadleigh: I already made her promise that.
Zoey: Do you want a wingwoman?
Me: Oh God, no. Not unless you want to witness all the moves your
friend doesn’t have.
Me: Guys, I said some … stuff to him.
And thirty more seconds of silence. Oh my God, how embarrassing.
I’m sure they’re all wondering what kind of kinky crap I said.

Madison: If we were in person, you’d see how big my eyes just got.
Hadleigh: Like what kind of stuff are we talking about?
Hadleigh: Because I’d probably say plenty if I thought I liked him.
Quinn: LOL. Yeah, Had, YOU would. But this is Piper.
Sophia: As long as it was normal sexy stuff …
Zoey: Why do I not feel experienced enough for this conversation?
Hadleigh: As long as you didn’t go straight to butt stuff, you’re
probably fine.
Quinn: <snort>
Zoey: I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. La, la, la …
Madison: I think I almost just wet myself.
Madison: But on a more serious note, if you get uncomfortable, just
leave.
Quinn: Ghost him after that if you have to.
Sophia: You okay, Piper?
Me: My face has gone up in flames.
Me: You all think I should meet him?
Sophia: I’m disappointed that Damon is a no go, but … yeah.
Sophia: You should see what this Prof.M. guy has to offer.
I nibble my lip. I think I’m going to do it.

After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I climb into bed and curl
up with my phone, clicking into the Tryst app. I’d asked Prof.M. what
we’d do if meeting ruined everything. His questioning response hits me
hard as I read it over again. Is it a chance you’re willing to take? The
more I think about it, the more I know I can’t just sit by and watch this
opportunity pass us by. Not meeting him is no longer an option. I think
I want to take a chance on him. What if he’s the one? Could I live with
myself if I never met him and then one day found out we were soul
mates or something dumb like that? Nope. I’d hate myself forever for
being a big baby about this. I can agree to a single date, right? What
could it hurt?
My parents invite me to Saturday brunch every week. Sometimes I make
up excuses for why I can’t attend. Some weeks I force myself to go, just
so I can say I’ve been there. It’s almost become a chore, especially now
that they know I’m going for the department chair position.
What was once an easy thing has become exponentially difficult now
that there is another teacher involved. I never dreamed I wasn’t the
ideal candidate—but worse, my parents don’t think anyone else should
be in contention for the position because I’m their perfect little Piper,
their only child, their shining star. I’ve never failed them before. What
really gets to me, though, is the sense of entitlement they seem to have.
Like somehow our family is superior and since I’m their child, it only
makes sense that I’d just be given the position.
So, I’ll try. I’ll keep trying, and won’t give up … but I may do
everything in my power and still not come out on the other side with
the title.
I pull up to my parents’ two-story home, complete with a neatly-
mowed yard and a freshly-painted red door, and sigh. I just need to get
through today and everything will be okay. Everything will be fine. Just.
Fine.
Only it’s not. The minute I walk through the door, my parents are
all over me.
“They must be making the selection soon. When I spoke to your
department chair at the school fundraiser last year, he had some very
complimentary things to say about you.” Dad smiles and offers me a
plate of fresh fruit. I accept it to give me something to do, all while
biting my tongue.
“Piper, what else do you have planned? You’ve really got to make a
last-minute push.” Mom winks at me.
 I take a few calming breaths. “Mom, could we just drop it?” I wedge
a hunk of watermelon into my mouth, and I don’t even enjoy it, which
pisses me off because it’s my favorite.
Her gaze swings from me to my dad. “Should we invite him to
dinner?”
Dad wipes his mouth with his napkin before setting it down next to
his plate and focusing all of his attention on me.
He’s about to say something when I cut him off. “I just wish you’d
leave my successes or failures to me. I’ll either get the position or not. I
don’t need you speaking to my boss on my behalf. I don’t want Jake to
think I expect him to pick me.”
I can’t believe my parents don’t understand how embarrassing it
would be for me to have my mommy and daddy talking to my boss. I
mean, what the hell? Don’t they realize that makes me look infantile?
Like I’m not capable of earning the position on my own?
“It won’t help.” I shake my head, my expression turning grim. If they
can’t see this, I don’t know what I’m going to do. And from the
surprised looks on their faces, they definitely don’t get it. “It would
make me look unprofessional. I’m twenty-six years old. I’m not a child. I
need for you to stop interfering.” I swallow and eye both of them
carefully. “Please. For me.”
Dad sips at his coffee, his brow furrowing. “We’re just trying to
help.”
“You’re helping me look like I’m not capable. You’re trying to
manipulate Jake into giving me the position by discussing it with him.” I
blow out a quick breath. “I want to either earn it—or not—because of
me, because of who I am and what I can do. Not because of my family
connections.”
Dad grumbles. “I don’t see how it can hurt.” He sips his coffee, his
keen eyes never leaving mine over his coffee cup.
 “That’s obvious.” I push back from my table, my chair loudly
scraping over the tiled floor. I set my napkin on the table. “I’m sorry, I
don’t want to get into an argument with you, and I can’t see this going
any other way right now.”
Mom’s dismay that I’m leaving is clear. “But, we—”
“No, Mom. Seriously. No buts.” I lift my hands, palms out. “I can’t do
this right now.”
C HA PTER 16
 D A M ON

“Hi, Mom.” As I walk into the kitchen of my family home, I pull my

mother in for a one-armed hug, dropping a kiss to the top of her head
before fixing my gaze on my sister. “Hey, Esme.”
She bends down in front of the oven to take a peek inside before
righting herself and shooting me a quick smile. “I hope you’re hungry. I
made quiche.”
Mom’s arm curls around my back, hugging me tightly. “How’s my
boy?”
I chuckle. “Doing fine, Mom. How’s everything been going here?”
“Good. Esme and Elena keep me company, and we stay busy around
here. Arabella should be here soon.” She leans into me. “I feel like we
hardly see you anymore.”
“I’m literally a stone’s throw away. You can come see me anytime I’m
home.” I sigh. “Work is just keeping me pretty busy right now.”
Esme looks up. “Are you working a lot of hours at the gym?”
I nod. “Yeah. That, too. I’m picking up as much as I can. Remind me
before I leave to have a look at any bills that still need to be paid this
month. I’ll take care of them.”
Mom gives me another squeeze before she goes to the cupboard to
pull down plates. Over her shoulder, she asks, “That reminds me, when
do they decide who gets to be the new department chair?”
I rub my hand over my stubble-coated jaw, an image of Piper’s
shocked face as I pulled out of the parking lot last night slamming into
me. I’m pretty sure I’d pissed her off good this time. “Soon. I have a
good chance at it.”
As Mom sets the plates out on the table, she asks cautiously, “How
much extra did you say the pay is per month?”
“It’s a couple hundred, I think. I’ll find out soon enough.”
From where she’s cutting the quiche into triangles, Esme murmurs,
“Every last bit helps.” She carries the delicious-smelling food over to the
table and sets it on a trivet, laying a serving spatula next to it and
sliding into her seat. I glance at the quiche, the basket of muffins, and a
trayful of grapes and berries, and my stomach rumbles in appreciation.
Mom comes to the table with a pitcher of ice water and fills the
glasses already set out before she sits down. She trains her eyes on me.
“You know, Elena was asking about whether she should bother looking
at colleges to apply to, or if we’d be better off if she came to work with
me at the flower shop. I wasn’t sure what to tell her.”
“She asked me if I knew if there was another receptionist position
available where Arabella works, too.” Esme clenches her teeth together. “I
don’t think Elena would do well sitting at a desk in a doctor’s office
with the job she wants staring her in the face all day.” She shrugs her
shoulders. “I could get her a waitressing position, but she really needs to
be eighteen so she can serve alcohol.” She frowns. “Not that I think she’d
like doing what I do, either.”
I wince. I’ve known this was coming for a while. I was working to
put myself through college when Dad passed away. I knew when it
happened that the family was now my responsibility. I’d have to step
up, be the caretaker, so I’ve done what I could in the last ten years to
support us. Dad was a mechanic, and we discovered when he died that
our family didn’t have much in the way of savings. Mom hadn’t worked
since before I was born because she’d had four children to take care of.
So, there we were, suddenly in a position where we’d needed income
in a bad way. Mom started working in the flower shop down on the
main street in town, and she’s been there for ten years now. I think
she’s happy, but it doesn’t pay much more than the mortgage on the
house. Once Arabella was old enough, she’d started working as a
receptionist at a doctor’s office and she still holds that position today. I
don’t know that she loves it, but it’s a job, and she seems content
enough. Esme has waited tables at a popular local restaurant since she
got out of high school. She keeps talking about maybe wanting to do
something different, like catering, but she’s kind of a free spirit. She does
make a mean quiche, though.
Then there’s Elena. She wants to be a nurse, or maybe even a doctor,
she says, and I know that means a lot of years of schooling. I don’t
have the heart to tell her we don’t really have the money for it. I’ll
figure it out. I always have.
At the same time, she’s obviously smart. She knows that money could
be a problem, and so she keeps hesitating. Arabella told me last week
that she’d tried to talk to Elena about colleges, but Elena brushed her off.
A low growl comes from my throat as I work my jaw back and
forth. “I’ll talk to her. She’s going to college. Period.” I yank my chair
out and sit.
With a bang of the door, the oldest of my sisters comes in like a
hurricane, dropping her bag and rushing to each of us with a hug.
“How is everyone today?”
Mom gives Arabella a huge smooch on the cheek when she bends
down to give her a hug. “We’re good, Bella. How’s this new young man
you’re seeing?”
 “Jared is good. He’s hiking today with some of his college buddies or
I’d have brought him.” She sits at her place at the table. “So, what were
you talking about when I came in?” She peeks out of the corner of her
eye at me where I’m sitting at the head of the table. “Damon, you
sounded a little … gruff.”
“Mom and Esme were telling me that Elena is staging a little
rebellion about going to college.”
Arabella rolls her eyes. “Yeah, she was saying maybe she’d take a gap
year and just work for a while.”
We fall silent as Elena comes down the back stairs, a blur of jean-
clad long legs and a black-and-red NHS sweatshirt.
Mom glances over as Elena sits down and immediately snatches a
muffin from the platter and begins eating it. “Elena Madero, where are
your manners, honey?”
Through a mouthful of crumbs, she grins at us. “Sorry. I’m starving.”
Mom sighs and motions to us that we should dig in.
Several minutes pass while we tuck into our food. Esme’s soft voice is
the first to interrupt the silence. “Elena, how was the dance last night?
Did you have fun?”
Elena sucks her lips into her mouth, stealing a look at me before she
addresses Esme. “It was good. I mostly just hung out with Marcy,
listened to the music, and ate heart-shaped cookies.”
Arabella winks at Elena. “I saw the photos you posted on social
media. Your dress was fabulous—all silvery shimmer. Loved it.”
There’s silence for another few seconds as my sisters’ gazes flick
around the table, connecting with each other in what has always been
scarily accurate nonverbal communication. Anytime my sisters get all
quiet like this, I know something is up. Patiently, I wait for whatever
they are about to lay on me. Based on the way they are avoiding my
stare, it definitely has something to do with me.
 “Damon, I saw some photos of you, too. You looked good in your
suit. Who was that you were dancing with?” Esme asks. Her voice is
soothing, as if to placate me, but her expression is questioning and
curious, so it’s obvious she’s interested in my answer.
Ever so slowly, I turn my head, letting my gaze fix on my youngest
sister. “Elena. What did you do?” The muscles of my cheek twitch. I’m
not really mad, but damn. I hadn’t realized anyone was taking photos.
Esme holds her phone out, one brow raised. “Have a look for
yourself, big brother.”
I take it from her and look at the image on the screen.
Piper in my arms.
Piper smiling up at me.
Piper in her sexy-as-hell red dress.
Piper and her alluring bare neck.
I gaze longingly at the woman in the photo, wanting to drop an
open-mouthed kiss on her soft skin. She’s so damn tempting. I press my
lips together. But I’m probably on her shit list right now because of the
field trip.
Mom snatches the phone from me and looks at the screen. Her lips
purse while she studies the two of us together in the photo. “Piper
Mathison, right? She always was a pretty girl. Smart, too. I know her
mama. Her parents think the world of her.”
“Her parents are ridiculously hard on her.” I watch Mom’s mouth
drop open before I look down at my plate and concentrate on my food,
putting a forkful of quiche into my mouth and chewing, unable to enjoy
it at all. Thinking about the way I’d heard Piper’s parents treat her sours
my mood.
The silence at our usually chattery table unnerves me. Slowly, I
glance up and see all four pairs of female eyes on me. “What?”
Elena cracks first, wrinkling her nose. “I knew you liked her.”
 Like her? She’s the most infuriating woman on the planet, but I
guess she’s okay. “Well, I’m only telling the truth about her parents. I
overheard them on a phone call with her last week. It wasn’t pretty. It
was also—and Elena, you aren’t to breathe a word of this at school—very
awkward because it was obvious that they are pressuring her in a big
way.”
Arabella’s brow creases. “What do you mean?”
I shake my head, giving her a rueful grin. “We’re up for the same
position. It was about that.”
“Nooo.” Esme sucks in air through her teeth.
Mom tilts her head to the side. “Well, that’s problematic, isn’t it?”
“From a coworker standpoint, it’s definitely an issue.”
Elena, ignoring me and seemingly oblivious to the position we’re in,
takes another bite of her muffin and around the mouthful says, “You
should totally date Ms. Mathison.”
I groan. “One, you shouldn’t be talking about her. She’s your teacher.
And two, not likely. We … argue. A lot.” No way am I telling them that
I’m half-sure if Piper and I ever really got into it, we’d probably end up
attacking each other with our lips.
Almost as if she’s reading my mind, Arabella snickers and hides her
mouth from Elena with her hand and mouths at me, “Is that what it is?
Or is it foreplay?”
Another groan bursts from me. “Nope. Bella, don’t go there.”
“What?” Elena looks between us, wondering what she’s missed.
“I have someone else I’m interested in, and Piper’s not happy with
me right now anyway.”
Elena’s head pops up from where she’d been nose down in her
muffin. “Wait, did something bad happen after I shut—” Her eyes meet
mine and she freezes. “I mean when you got locked out?”
“Tell me you didn’t do that.”
 Esme’s, Arabella’s, and Mom’s gazes bounce back and forth between
me and Elena like a ball in a tennis match. Elena’s face flushes. “I-I was
just trying to help.”
“You locked us outside in thirty-degree weather and no one could
hear us because the entire student body was sliding to the right and
kicking! What the hell, Elena?”
“Was anyone hurt?” Mom eyes me carefully from the other side of
the table.
I growl, “No, not if you don’t count my dress shoes, which are
ruined. I ended up carrying Piper all the way around the damn
building in the snow, messed up my suit pants, and nearly froze my
feet off doing it.”
Esme, who is our hopeless romantic, sighs. “I’m just imagining how
this all went down in my head. How sweet you are, Damon.”
“Well, I’m afraid she doesn’t think I’m sweet anymore because I’ve
had to do things to get that department chair position that she’s not
going to appreciate.”
Mom shakes her head, closing her eyes. “Oh, Damon.”
Bella squints at me. “Wait a sec. Did you say you were interested in
someone else? Tell me you met someone on Tryst!”
I think at this point, I’ve just become accustomed to my sisters being
chin deep in my business. It doesn’t seem like that’s something that will
ever change. “Yes. I’ve met someone. But we’re trying to figure out how
to actually meet. If that makes sense.”
To be honest, nothing makes sense today. Nothing at all. I can’t stop
thinking about the way Piper felt in my arms when we danced last
night or when I carried her. The smile that lit up her face as I teased
her on the way to the parking lot was easily the best part of my night. I
seriously need to figure out this whole thing with Sherlock4Love, or I’ll
find myself in over my damn head with both of them.
A while later, I kick back on Mom’s couch to digest my meal and watch
a fight on TV. My phone vibrates on my chest. I swear, I’m conditioned
to grab it and go right to Tryst, hoping for a message from
Sherlock4Love. It’s happened three times today, only for me to be
disappointed to find text messages from my friends instead. This time,
though, it’s her.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’m willing to take the chance.

I jerk to an upright position, not quite trusting what my eyes just
read. But there it is, plain as day. She’s willing. She wants to meet me.
With my palms sweating, I quickly tap out a response to her.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: When? Where? I’m more ready than you

know. Don’t be surprised if I haul off and kiss you the minute I set eyes
on you.

Fuck, I hope that wasn’t too eager.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Same. That escalated quickly, didn’t it?

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: It just means we are ready to bite the bullet
and do this.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: What if we meet and something’s not right?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Like we don’t get along? Because we already
get along just fine.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Maybe. But … what if there’s no chemistry?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: There’s going to be chemistry. I have no
doubt there will be fucking fireworks.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Saturday? 7p.m.? You pick the place.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Giarelli’s?
And just like that, I have a real date in just one week with the
elusive Sherlock4Love.
C HA PTER 17
 PIPE R

I’ve been living in a rapidly fluctuating state since I made the date with
Prof.M. for Saturday night. One minute, I’m full of crazy anxiety and
the next, absolute excitement. I have an actual real, live date with a real,
live man. He’s about to become way more than a fictional character to
me, and nervous butterflies flutter around in my stomach every time I
think about it.
With every day that creeps closer toward Saturday, my emotions
intensify.
Of course, it doesn’t help that while I’m looking forward to this
weekend, and finding out who the man is that I’ve been fantasizing
about, I’ve also got to get through this week—and that includes dealing
with Damon.
I shift in my desk chair as I pull together some of the final details
for the field trip. Hadleigh, Sawyer, and I have worked out a list of kids
for each bus, permission slips are in and accounted for, money for a
meal on the road has been collected. I’ve got everything as organized as
I can get it.
Once I convinced Hadleigh to include me and Jake, I’d insisted on
taking over some of this stuff for her. Thank goodness we are friends
and she understands I need to show Jake that I’m giving it my all. I’m
a team player, but I can lead, too.
So far, I haven’t seen whatever Damon was referring to with “our”
field trip. There’s no evidence to imply he’s going with us. I haven’t
dared ask Jake; I don’t want to come off seeming petty by not wanting
him to come.
Every time Damon tries to peek over my shoulder, I lean my elbow
on the desk and let the curtain of my hair conceal what I’m working
on.
He clears his throat, and I can tell he’s scooted himself closer to me.
“Are we not going to talk about what happened at the dance?”
I turn my head to glance at him. There he is, looking and smelling
completely delicious. Why does he have to be so freaking hot? “What are
you talking about? About how we got locked out?”
Damon cringes, gritting his teeth. “Well, no. But about that—I found
out that Elena pulled the doorstop I’d left there. She thought—well, I
won’t claim to know the inner workings of a seventeen-year-old girl’s
mind, but she confessed she did it.”
I give a small nod. I had almost given in to the idea that maybe
Damon had closed the door behind us himself—that he wanted to be out
there alone with me—but I guess that was an incorrect hypothesis.
“Sometimes it’s hard to tell why kids do things.” Without meaning to,
my knee brushes his. “Sorry.”
Why did that one little touch—of our knees, no less—send a fresh
jolt of liquid need running through my body? I set my jaw and turn
away from him.
He grasps my elbow with his strong hand, making me jerk. I glance
down at where he’s gripping my arm before I look up into his eyes. His
face is entirely too close to mine as he rasps, “Aren’t we going to talk
about what I said before we left?”
 Just then, Jake bustles into the workroom. “Damon, we’ve got you all
set.” He turns to me, “Piper, here are a couple more permission slips and
money to cover a few more kids. Can we make sure we have enough
space on the bus for them?”
My eyes snap to Damon’s and flash fire. “Did you arrange for more
tickets?” My question is directed to Jake, but my eyes never leave his.
Jake shuffles on his feet, suddenly aware of the growing tension in
the room. “Um, yeah. Damon, you took care of that, right?”
“I did.” He gets up out of his chair. “If you all will excuse me, I’ve
got some copies to run.” My eyes follow him all the way out of the room
before they finally come back to Jake.
“Piper, I assumed you two had talked about it. When he came to me,
he said he needed four seats on the bus and he had tickets already.” He
hesitates. “Is there a problem? I take it you didn’t discuss this?”
“No, he didn’t say a word about it to me.” I get up out of my seat,
giving him a tight smile. “It’s fine, really.”
C HA PTER 18
 PIPE R

The next afternoon, after another few rounds of bickering with Damon
at school, I can’t help but wish I were taking a kickboxing class instead
of a barre class. I’m too worked up to be doing such calm, soothing
exercises. Not to mention, maybe if I took one of those classes, I’d be
capable of kicking Damon right in the ass.
My traitorous gaze keeps flitting across the gym to where he’s
working with Frank. It irritates the shit out of me that I can’t seem to
control my body’s reactions when it comes to him, and I’m still
supremely pissed he invited himself on the field trip tomorrow. But at
the same time, my eyes drink in his every move as if he were a Slurpee
on a hot, hot summer day.
“You’re way too tense, Piper. Head up, shoulders down. Let those
arms float gracefully as you move through the positions.” The teacher
walks around giving us corrections as we repeat the sequence of
positions she’d given us to practice.
From behind me, I hear Quinn try to stifle a laugh  … and fail
miserably. Glancing back at her, I aim the evil eye right at her, which
only makes her laugh harder, attracting the attention of Madison on my
other side.
 She shoots me an amused look. “Psst. Piper. Barre class is over here.
Last time I checked you weren’t taking Muay Thai.”
Quinn gives a decidedly unladylike snort, and I turn my head to
look at her. “Yep, I think you’re right. Maybe she wants to join Damon
and Frank over there.” She shakes her head. “You’ve positioned yourself
just right at the barre so you can see their practice area through the
door, haven’t you?”
“I did n—”
“Oh girl, don’t try to deny it.”
My face draws into a frown. “Well, why is he here anyway? It’s like
he’s looked at the schedule and just conveniently shows up everywhere I
do to torture me. It’s maddening as all hell. As if it’s not enough that
he’s coming on the field trip tomorrow.” I huff and ever so ungracefully
fling my arms and legs through first, second, and third positions.
Madison fully stops and turns around. “Piper, do you not realize he
works here?”
What she’s just said takes a few seconds to sink in. My arms fall to
my sides and my mouth drops open as I blink a few times still trying to
process the information. “What do you mean?”
Quinn, Madison, and I huddle in a circle. Quinn’s brow arches high
on her forehead. “Oh, Piper … yeah, he’s Frank’s trainer. And he teaches
a few different classes here, too—besides Muay Thai. He also teaches a
kickboxing class and some other type of martial arts.”
“I think it’s jujitsu.” Madison bites her lip as she studies me. Quinn
covers her mouth for a second and glances at Madison before removing
her hand to question me. “How did you not know this?”
With a harsh exhale, I spin back to the barre and continue my
workout, frowning all the while. The instructor walks past us, makes
some comments, and then I turn and hiss indignantly over my shoulder,
“I don’t freaking know.”
 Well, at least that makes sense. And now I feel kind of stupid
because I’d thought he was following me around, but clearly not. This is
what happens when you assume things, I guess. I’ve made a big ass out
of myself. Fortunately for me, it’s only my friends who know this.

I don’t know what possesses me, but after class, I hang around for a
while, sitting on a bench by the door, fiddling with my phone. I can’t
resist glancing up every so often to watch Damon in his session with
Frank. I still can’t freaking believe he’s crashed my field trip—well,
Hadleigh and Sawyer’s. I mean, I sort of did the same, but at least I had
permission from them before inserting myself into the trip. I can’t believe
he went to Jake behind my back. The big jerk.
Big, sweaty, muscly jerk. I feel the growl work its way up from my
stomach and just barely stop it from coming out.
Damon and Frank move around each other on the mat, punching,
jabbing, and kicking at each other. The more I watch Damon, the
grumpier I get. All day today, I’d ignored him, refusing to speak to him,
but now? Now I’m mad and spoiling for a fight. I may not be able to
literally kick his ass, but I sure will lay into him verbally when I get the
chance.
Another glance at him has me wanting to mentally whip myself. It’s
a damn shame he’s such an ass because his body is a masterpiece. He’s
completely cut, his muscles flexing and rippling under his skin, and dear
lord, I can’t help but watch him move. He’s powerful, yet graceful.
Cunning, and quick. Poetry in motion, really.
Hot jerk poetry. Why does he have to be so attractive when all I
want to do is sock him in the nose?
 A while later, I notice Frank exiting the gym area to the locker room,
while Damon continues his workout, throwing punches and kicks at a
bag hanging from the ceiling.
It’s now or never.
I march over to him, full of indignation and fire, ready to let him
have it. When he sees me coming, he stops and turns to me, hands on
his hips. Sweat drips down his chest in rivulets. My eyes follow the
drops as they slide down the grooves in his muscled abs. Saliva pools in
my mouth as I take in every inch of a very, very sweaty Damon. He’s
pure sex on a stick—strong pecs, big shoulders, and I swear, his abs
have abs of their own. Don’t get me started on the cut of that V going
straight down inside the waistband of his shorts, pointing directly to the
promised land. The holy grail. My mouth waters some more at the
thought.
Oh my God. Please don’t let all the things I’ve been planning on
saying to him get stuck in my throat. I swallow hard as I come to a
stop right in front of him.
“Up here.”
At his words, my eyes flick from his abs to his eyes, and I scowl. At
the same time, blood rushes to my face, turning it as red as his Muay
Thai gloves. He totally caught me gawking.
Annoyingly enough, my eyes drop a second time, mesmerized as his
pec muscles twitch, attracting my attention. My gaze slides down
further, noticing for the first time that he has some sort of tattoo on his
rib cage that looks kind of like birds flying, though I can’t quite tell,
and I know I’ve already been staring too long. I don’t even like tattoos,
but damn that’s so sexy. They kind of look like they are flying across his
ribs, moving in sync with all of his muscles.
His deep voice cuts through my distracted musings. “Did you have
something you wanted to say, or did you just come closer to check me
out?”
My mouth opens and closes, astonished at his cocky attitude—yet not
really. I had my tirade all planned in my head, but when he’s standing
here in front of me, all glistening and magnificent like this, I can’t help
but lose all train of logical thought. I sputter, “You, you—”
“Fine specimen? Muscular man? Sexy devil? Come on, Piper. Since
when do words fail you? Come on. What do you have for me?” He
holds his wrapped-up hands out and beckons me forward, like he might
with someone he’s trying to taunt in a fight.
My eyes flare as I take in his smug yet smiling face, and my gaze
traces over the upward tilt of his firm, masculine lips. I’m so angry I’m
practically panting, and my hands clench at my sides, the nails digging
little moon shapes into my palms.
He chuckles, the deep sound of it reverberating through his chest. It
pisses me off worse than anything else.
I’m so mad now, I’m practically shaking with it. Rude. How dare he
laugh at me? Finally, I find my voice. “You know what, I do have
something to say to you. You know we had no intention of you being
involved in that field trip tomorrow—that this was my turn to let Jake
see what I’m capable of and instead, you’ve positioned yourself right in
the middle of the action.” I throw up my hands, pissed off. “Do you
think Jake won’t see that? That he won’t see through your little ploy?”
“I think Jake is well aware of what I bring to the table—or the field
trip. You’ll have to wait and watch how the master works tomorrow.”
He steps closer to me, invading my personal space. He slides his thumb
across his lower lip, and grins as he notices my eyes following.
Dammit!
“What am I supposed to do, Piper, just sit back and let you have the
position? Some of us don’t get everything handed to us. Some of us have
to prove ourselves. Some of us don’t have the luxury of failing.”
 Is he trying to say I’m spoiled? Entitled? Ugh! This man! I step
forward, toe to toe with him. “I’ve worked for every goddamn thing I’ve
gotten.” I reach out and jab my finger right into the sweat-slicked skin
of his chest. “Don’t you dare try to insinuate that I’ve had everything
given to me on a silver platter.” My voice raises. “It’s not true!”
In no more time than it takes my heart to beat, I scan every feature
of his face, so close to mine. Why is it that he’s become so damned
appealing to me? When the hell did that happen? And why? Oh my
God, why me? Why now? I feel like I’m about to fly right off the
handle. I’m. So. Angry. I’m vibrating with it. My blood boils under my
skin as my heart pumps it through me, sending that heat everywhere.
Nose to nose with him, I stare into his dark eyes, trying not to show
him just how off-balance he has me. He smirks, studying me. This
asshole. I want to— I want to—
I don’t know who moved first, but seemingly all at once, our bodies
crash together and our mouths find each other. Everything from the way
his strong hand grips the back of my neck to how his lips move over
mine, demanding and sure, all scream possession and passion so fiery it
may well torch my panties and burn me up from the inside. I grip his
biceps, and without understanding why, I claw at him, holding on for
dear life. His tongue passes between my lips, and I match his ardor,
stroke for feverish stroke. With every second we let this continue, I crave
more and more of what he’s giving me. I want this. I need this. All my
senses are lit up like the finale of a fireworks show. The kiss is brutal
and intense and so very Damon. I have the fleeting thought that I may
never recover from it.
I may never be the same again.
He tugs me against him and all I feel is rock-hard man. I have
visions of him pushing me up against the wall behind us and having
his way with me. I moan at the thought, right into his mouth. He nips
at my lip with his teeth, and I yank his body more firmly against mine,
my arms around his back now, my hands sliding down to squeeze his
ass.
The worst part of all of this is I’m terrified I might like what he’s
doing to me—and what I’m doing to him.
Frustrated with the direction of my thoughts, I push away from him,
breathing hard, my chest rising and falling like I’ve just run a mile.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
His brows shoot up to his hairline. “Me?” His head jerks back like
I’ve slapped him. “There were two of us involved in that just now. Two
sets of lips, two tongues, two bodies.” His gaze slides down over me as I
back further away from him. The pulsing in my core is a sure sign that
he’s right, damn him.
My hand shakes as my fingers touch my lips. I blink twice, staring
right into the intense depths of his sinful eyes.
“What’s the matter, Piper? Aren’t you woman enough to admit you
liked that?”
And then? I turn and run.
I burst out of the building like it’s on fire. No, that’s just my lady
parts.
Oh my God, I just stuck my tongue in Damon’s mouth. And his was
in mine. I grabbed at his hard, sweaty arms and shoulders, and then his
ass. I touched Damon’s ass. I rubbed my body against his like I’d never
encountered anything that good in my entire life.
Spoiler alert: It’s because I haven’t. I swallow hard and lean against
the wall outside the door to catch my breath. That was the single most
sexy, mind-blowing experience I’ve ever had, and it all happened with
my clothing fully intact. And in a public place, no less. I can only
imagine what it would be like to be naked and sweaty in private with
Damon.
 And imagine I do—his mouth covers mine, our hearts pound in our
chests, the heavy, solid weight of him presses me down onto my bed
and settles between my legs. My whole body calls out to his. His lips
torment my curves, dropping angry-hot kisses everywhere he can reach.
And just when I can’t take anymore, his hands grip my hips tightly as
he powers into me with his big, huge—
My eyes widen in panic at the immediate, lust-filled path my mind
had just taken. I blow out a disturbed breath and shake myself.
My heart races as I push away from the wall, cross the parking lot,
get into my car, and drive away. Why? Why do I have to feel that way
toward him, of all people?
I try to push him out of my mind, but all I’m thinking is how I’d
like to go back, find him, and kiss him all over again.
That was so fucking hot.
And yet, here I am, running away.
Going on a date with Prof.M. in just a few days feels like the last
thing I should be doing now. I’m swamped with guilt. I haven’t even
given whoever this man is a chance. We haven’t even met. What if I
meet Prof.M. and I like everything about him, but can’t stop thinking
about Damon’s hand pulling my face toward him so he can kiss me or
the other one that had landed just north of my ass and yanked my
lower body flush to his?
What if I run from Damon—like my head has told me to do—and
straight into Prof.M.’s arms and he turns out to be no good for me? Or,
oh my God, what if he has a tiny C-O-C-K? I cringe thinking about
how superficial that last thought was, but even though I could tell
Damon had some sort of a protective cup on for sparring, there’s no way
a big man like that isn’t just big all over. At least, I hope not.
Wait. What am I hoping? That Damon is well-endowed? Why? My
brain screams out, even as my nipples tighten at the thought of Damon
and whatever he is packing.
I have got to get myself under control. I drive quickly through town,
and when I arrive at my apartment complex, find I’m no calmer than
when I’d pulled away from Damon at the gym.
I’m the biggest idiot ever. Here I am, sucking face with some guy
who is trying to take everything from me. Hell, he probably did that on
purpose to get a rise out of me. He’s trying to distract me from whatever
he has up his sleeve for tomorrow.
And I totally can’t wait to see what it is. This field trip has become a
war zone. It’s on. I’ve just got to figure out what to do to battle back.
Because now our little war isn’t just professional; he’s made it personal
with his stupid lips and talented tongue.
C HA PTER 19
 D A M ON

I can’t remember the last time a kiss affected me like that. In fact, I’m
pretty sure that was unlike anything I’ve ever felt with other women. To
be fair, Piper herself isn’t like other women. One minute, I’d been
enjoying getting her all fired up, and the next, there’d been an
explosion, like some unseen force had shoved us together and we’d
detonated in each other’s arms. Boom. Holding her like that, touching
her … Oh my God, she’s sexy as hell. I could feel her desperation to get
closer in the way she’d clung to me. And that mouth of hers—it’s hot
when she’s arguing with me, but man, it’d been even more fun to throw
her off balance and shut her up with my lips. I’d been about to suggest
we find somewhere more private if we were going to keep it up and I’d
enjoyed thinking that was likely to piss her off.
But she pushed me away. And she seemed angry at first, but then
she ran. I think maybe she didn’t want to admit how I’d made her feel.
To be fair, it was a pretty quick shift, and neither of us had been ready
for it.
I’d spent the rest of the evening wondering if we’d taken things a
little too far. Our relationship, both professionally and personally, is now
forever changed. For the first time in a long time, I have no fucking
clue what the fallout will be like. Usually I know where I stand with a
woman. But right now, to her credit, Piper has me spinning. It’s like
we’d been in the octagon and she’s knocked me half-senseless. And now?
I’m seeing fucking stars.
I grit my teeth as I realize I don’t know what to do with this fresh
onslaught of feelings, especially when I have an upcoming date with
Sherlock4Love in just a few days. Is it even fair to meet her? Because I
know I’d sure as hell be exponentially increasing the size of my current
issue. There’s no way I won’t get along with her. But can she come close
to Piper? I hadn’t realized until she’d been in my arms just how much
she would shake me to the core.
I hurry into the school building early, wanting to put the final
touches on the activity I’d promised Jake I’d have ready for the students
on the way home from the screening. I’m pretty sure I have everything I
need ready to go and with a quick glance at my phone, I realize it’s
almost time to leave. The buses need to pull out at seven thirty so we
can be out of the way before regular buses transporting the student body
arrive for the school day.
I gather the materials we’ll need later and put them into the
crossbody bag I’ll be taking. With a last glance at my desk to make sure
I’m not leaving anything important behind, I sling the bag over my
head, letting it hang across my lower back.
A noise alerts me to someone’s presence behind me, and I know from
the warming of my body who it is. Funny that I’m this attuned to her. I
never noticed that before. Playing it as cool as I can, I turn around, one
brow raised.
She studies me—aloof, almost calculating, and oh so beautiful.
“Almost ready? We leave in ten.”
“Yeah. I just need to check my box in the office, then I’ll be right
out.”
 “Okay.” She turns to go and stops at the door, resting a hand on the
door frame. She presses her lips together, drawing my eyes to her pink-
painted lips. Fuck me, those lips were on mine just last night. I can’t
believe she hasn’t said anything about it. “See you in the back parking
lot.”
My dick hardens as my eyes drift from her lips down over her
fucking outstanding figure and slowly back up. I feel dizzy with desire
and want nothing more than to cross the room and kiss her all over
again.
To part her lips and taste her on my tongue.
To feel her soft breasts crushed against my chest.
To feel just how perfectly her curvy body fits with mine.
How did I start thinking about her like this? My mind can’t wrap
itself around the thoughts, and before I even have a chance to attempt
to process it, the little minx eyes my crotch, smirks at me, and winks
before walking away, leaving me to readjust the situation in my pants
and calm myself before I can head to the office.

I hurry all the way to the back of the school, as time is tight, but when
I arrive, there’s no one back here—no buses, nothing. Something is very
wrong. I come to the logical conclusion that I’ve been had—outsmarted
and outplayed.
Oh, Piper, Piper, Piper … you’ll pay for that, one way or another.
Taking off at a sprint, I circle the building. Thank goodness for my
training regimen or I’d never have made it. The first bus has just pulled
away when I get to the remaining one and slap my hand on the door
just as it starts to roll.
 The bus jerks to a stop and the doors open. The bus driver gives me
an exasperated look as I climb in. “Sorry. I was told we’d be loading the
buses in the back.”
He just shakes his head and chuckles. “Nope. We always load for
trips in front.” He jerks his head over his shoulder. “There’s a seat open
right here.”
As I climb in, my eyes land on Piper’s smiling face, and I swear
she’s trying hard not to bust out laughing. “Nice of you to join us, Mr.
Madero.”
I glance toward the back of the bus where Jake is sitting, keeping an
eye on the kids back there. I give him a quick wave before I address
Piper. “Thanks for letting me know where we’d be loading the bus, Ms.
Mathison.” I slide onto the seat next to her, getting comfortable. “That
was very helpful of you.” The look on her face at my choice of seats is
comical.
Her brow pinches together and her face goes a little pale as she looks
over her shoulder. “Isn’t there another seat open?”
“Nope. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
“Oh, goodie.” She mumbles, her voice low, “Just keep your hands to
yourself.”
I lean in next to her ear. “Is that how we’re going to play this? How
about other things, then? What else should I keep to myself?”
She puts her hand on my shoulder and shoves, frowning. She
mouths, Stop.
I nod. “No problem.” I cross my arms over my chest and shift my
legs around, trying to get as comfortable as I can while jammed into the
bench seat. “Want to tell me why you tried to ditch me, then?”
“Nope. I’m pretty sure you already know why.”
“All right. Fair enough.”
 A sound made by her phone vibrating in her lap gets both of our
attention. She looks down at it and shifts away from me. With a sigh, I
look down at my own phone and when I realize our conversation is
over, resign myself to scrolling through social media to pass the time.
Every once in a while, I sneak a peek at her out of the corner of my
eye. She looks upset. I can’t even help myself; the question rolls off my
tongue without any thought. “Who is responsible for that look on your
face?”
Her head whips around, her lips parted in surprise. “None of your
business, Damon.” Her gaze drops to her lap. “But if you really have to
know, it’s just an everyday conversation with my parents. No big deal.”
My jaw clenches. I had a feeling it was something like that. I
manage to huff out, “I’m sorry they’re giving you a hard time.”
“Are you? Really?” She looks at me like I have two heads.
“Are you mad at me about work stuff or yesterday?” I give a brief
glance over my shoulder to make sure no one is listening. Fortunately,
most of the kids in the next several rows back all have their earbuds in,
listening to music. Many of them are napping.
I can only see one of her cheeks now because she won’t look at me;
she just stares straight ahead. As I watch, color blooms under her skin,
embarrassment showing itself on her face plain as day.
Piper gives me the side-eye. “All of your joking around aside, this
isn’t the place to discuss that, Damon.” She turns back to her phone, her
thumbs flying over the keypad before she sets her phone in her lap. “I
swear, you just set out to humiliate me.”
I consider her accusation, grimacing all the while. Is that what she
thinks I’m trying to do? I’ll admit to trying to get under her skin, but
I’d never purposefully set out to humiliate anyone, much less her.
My phone gives a ping notifying me of a new message on Tryst,
distracting me from responding right away. I glance at the phone, then
at Piper again, instantly feeling guilty. Who would have ever thought
I’d be juggling more than one woman at once? Certainly not me. I take
in the message, and instantly regret looking, but only because it widens
the breadth of my current issues with Piper.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’m really, really ready to meet you.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’m a little nervous, though, and I thought I
should be honest about it.

For a few seconds I just stare at the screen. I don’t know what the
right move is here. Grumbling to myself, I tap out a quick response, then
silence my phone so I don’t disturb the entire bus. As I watch her replies
come in, I become engrossed in the conversation, trying to gauge where
I stand with Sherlock4Love because the chill in the air coming from
Piper’s direction makes it clear just where I am with her.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I think it would be unusual if you weren’t.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Are you at all nervous?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I’m confident we’re a good match.
I refocus on the woman next to me, unable to stop myself from
asking, “Piper, what makes you think I’ve been trying to humiliate you?”
Incredulous laughter erupts from her. “Every last thing you do is a
ploy to mess with me, including yesterday.”
With a shrug, I clear my throat. “If you say so. It’s not true, but if
you say so.” I look back down as my phone vibrates in my hand again.
I read and respond, choosing to lose myself in a conversation with a
woman who doesn’t think I hate her.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Have you ever wondered why you chose a
username featuring a character that is the nemesis of mine?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Nah. It doesn’t matter. Moriarty and
Sherlock were able to challenge each other mentally. I think that’s what
we’ve been doing so far.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: And we’ll see if the other part follows?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I already told you I know it will. I can’t
wait to see you this weekend. Hold you. Kiss you.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: After all this build up, you’d better do more
than just politely kiss me. You’d better have your hands all over me.

Piper shifts in her seat next to me, and leans against the window,
phone pulled in close near her chest. I wonder if she’s still talking to her
parents. Doesn’t seem like it. There’s a hint of a smile on her lips. It
makes her look absolutely lovely. With a sigh, I duck my head again
and tap out another response to Sherlock4Love.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Who said I was going to be polite about it?

I have every intention of ravaging your sweet lips. And I’ll touch you
anywhere you want me to.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: …
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Promise?
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: There’s my naughty girl. Listen, I have to
go—work stuff calls—but everything will be fine. You’ll see.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Okay. Talk later.
I tuck my phone in my pocket, glad I was able to coax out a little of
that sass that I love so much. She does seem a bit nervous about meeting
me, but also excited. I’m hoping that when we see each other,
everything will fall into place. Because the honest truth is if we don’t
meet soon, I’m going to have to set the idea of a relationship with her
behind. I didn’t start messing around on Tryst to find a chat friend. The
whole idea behind it—why Arabella set up my account—was because I’d
been alone for a long time. Alone and lonely are two very different
things. Lonely is easy to cure—I’ve had zero problems finding women to
warm my bed, but not one of them was someone I’d introduce to my
family. And family is of the utmost importance to me. The women
already in my life are my world. The older I get, the more difficult it is
becoming to deny the fact that I want to settle down, find that certain
someone who can be part of our world.
But which woman is the one?
I’ve got one woman who infuriates me on a daily basis and the fire
between us has gone from campfire to inferno with just one kiss. I’ve got
another woman whose real name I don’t even know, but I daydream
about. I find myself constantly imagining what it would be like to be
with someone physically when we have such a strong mental connection.
It’s a toss-up. I only hope I can determine which path is the right
way to go and I don’t end up with my heart in tatters over it.
I’m ready. I don’t want to be alone anymore. But now I’m even more
confused. Which one is the right woman for me?
C HA PTER 2 0
 PIPE R

Hot, cocky jerk. All day long, he’s been on my last nerve. Everything
has just grated on me, from students being super excited that he was
able to make it at the last minute—ha!—to him sitting in the seat next to
Jake at the theatre that I would have preferred, to Jake being completely
pleased with the activity he’d brought for the kids to do on the way
home. I wrinkle my nose as I recall Jake’s happy voice when he’d said,
“Mr. Madero, excellent work. The kids love this.”
Okay. I admit it. Damon’s History Comes to Life through Song
activity is pretty great. It centers around analysis of the poetic lyrics and
has the students absolutely hooked. The best part is they’ve all got their
earbuds in listening to the songs as they work, so apart from some
occasional humming, it’s relatively quiet.
And the quiet allows my mind to drift. I close my eyes, and before I
know it, I’m in Damon’s arms and he’s kissing me. The passionate
encounter is all fire and lashing storm, heat and raging river—and I
want it to go on and on. I shiver remembering how his rough hand had
felt against my neck, how the other hand had fanned itself out right
above my ass and drawn me to him  … I’ve never felt such a powerful
need surge through me in my entire life. Every second with him had
seemed like hours, yet it was nowhere near long enough. I’d wanted
more.
But he’s been taunting me. Teasing me. Preying on my emotions. I
can’t have that. I’m going to have to redouble my efforts to stay the hell
away from him and just do my best to make sure Jake sees I’d be a
great department chair. I can’t afford to let him win. I’ll never live it
down if I’m not chosen.
He’d decided to sit right beside me on the damn bus on the way
home, too. I’ve got to get some advice. I really freaking wish Hadleigh
could have ridden on this bus with me, but she and Sawyer are on the
other one. I couldn’t exactly ask Sawyer to trade places with me.
I mean I guess I could have—and he’d have done it if I’d asked, I’m
sure—but then I’d just look pathetic. I slick my tongue over my lower
lip, peering at Damon out of the corner of my eye. He’s partially turned
in his seat, involved in a discussion with one of the kids about his
analysis of a particular song.
He eases himself back around, careful not to bump his knees against
the back of the seat in front of us. He chuckles under his breath.
“Everyone seems to like my little activity.” Eyeing me carefully, he goes
for the jugular. “Jake really likes it. Did you hear him?”
Out of frustration, I simply say, “Shut it, Damon.” I edge away from
him, and under my breath say, “You’re taking up the whole damn seat.
You and your big shoulders.”
Oh, someone help me, I’m being rude as hell. I give myself a good
eye roll. This man obviously has what it takes to drive me insane.
He studies my features, which I know probably look strained at best.
“You look like you wish you could knock me out right about now.”
“Yeah, well, occasionally you get things right.”
“Are we talking about the Hamilton activity or the fact that you’d
like to put your fist in my face right about now?”
 I cross my arms over my chest and turn away from him. “Both.”
After several quiet minutes, I glance over my shoulder only to realize
he’s put a pair of earbuds in and is listening to the songs from the
musical along with the kids.
It’s actually after school hours at this point, but we aren’t due back
until five. Seems as good a time as any for me to shoot off a couple of
texts to my girls. Scowling the whole time, I text them my grievances.

Me: Girls. Today has not gone well.

Hadleigh: What? What’s wrong? We had so much fun!
Madison: Well, that doesn’t sound good.
Me: I’ve been stuck with freaking Damon on the bus.
Madison: When I heard he was going on that trip, I kind of
wondered …
Hadleigh: I totally just turned around in my seat as if I could see you
on the other bus or something.
Zoey: I’m confused. Do we like him or not?
Quinn: I thought she kind of liked him.
Sophia: That’s what I thought.
Me: He’s pushing all my buttons today.
Hadleigh: Sounds like you need him to push a particular button …
Quinn: <snort>
Sophia: You should totally have him do that—I mean you.
Me: OMG, Sophia, Had is rubbing off on you.
Hadleigh: Did someone say rub one off? Because that could help, too.
Madison: You are totally embarrassing her. Not that I don’t agree with
all of the above.

Finally, I can’t hold it in anymore.

Me: Um. So …
Zoey: Uh-oh.
Me: We kissed.
Me: It happened after barre class yesterday.
Quinn: WHAT?
Sophia: How did we not already know this?
Hadleigh: That’s my girl!
Hadleigh: Was it hot AF? I need details.
Madison: Gotta say, I kind of expected that after the way you were
ogling him yesterday.
Me: I was not.
Me: Okay. I’m a liar. I totally was.
Me: Damn lickable abs and biteable biceps!
Hadleigh: More deets, please.
Me: I don’t know what to tell you. He was sweaty and hot and we
were arguing.
Sophia: I feel like I need wine for this.
Madison: I just opened some.
Quinn: <snort> Me too.
Hadleigh: I’ve heard of hate sex. In movies, it seems totally hot.
Zoey: This sounds like the foreplay version …
Me: Well, it’s never going beyond that, trust me.
There’s quiet for several moments, no additional texts at all.
Confused, I shake my phone and look at it again.

Sophia: Oh, sweetie.

Quinn: Never say never. I’ve learned that one the hard way myself.
Hadleigh: Good luck with that. That man is a sexy beast.
 A few minutes later, Damon gets out of his seat and carefully makes
his way to the back of the bus. When I glance over my shoulder, I
realize there actually is another seat back there. The rat. He delights in
making me suffer.
No sooner have I turned back around to get back to texting my girls
than Elena slips into her brother’s seat next to me. “Hi, Ms. Mathison.”
I give her a tired smile and turn my phone over in my lap. “Hi,
Elena. Did you have fun today?”
She nods. “I did. I’ve been playing the soundtrack to this musical for
months. I just love it. It’s great.”
“Well, good. That was the idea. And a little change of pace toward
the end of the year is always nice, too.”
“It is. It breaks up the monotony of being in class all day. Thank you
for helping put it together. Da—Mr. Madero told me you did a lot of the
organizing.”
My mind goes to two places after what she’s just said. First, it’s
adorable how she tries to make sure she calls her brother Mr. Madero
when she’s at school or school functions. I can tell by the way she talks
about him they really are close despite their age difference. But second,
he’s been talking to her about me, telling her that I was responsible for
helping put this together? That sneak knows how much effort I put in,
just to slide in and ride on my coattails. At least he’s honest about it.
Well, he’s honest with everyone but me. I slide a glance back over at his
sister and cock my eyebrow at her in question. “He told you that?”
“Yeah. He said he was just tagging along for the fun of it.”
I snort and laugh a little. “The fun of it … well, if you must know, I
kind of tagged along, too. Ms. Beckett and Mr. Rivers are responsible for
coming up with the idea and getting the tickets. Though, I did take
over collecting permissions slips and money. And, of course, your brother
helped with the activity.” I wink at her conspiratorially. “I’m glad for the
quiet on the way home. That was a brilliant move on his part.”
“He’s pretty smart when he wants to be, but don’t tell him I said
that.” She grins at first, but then her face falls. Her hands twist together
in her lap and she looks down at them for a second before lifting her
head and locking eyes with me. “He thinks you don’t like him, you
know.”
Her soft brown eyes are inquisitive, and I maintain her gaze. “He
actually said that?” I chew on the corner of my lip, wondering if he
directly told her or if she’s just gathering information based on things
he’s said.
“Sort of. He said you weren’t really happy with him. He didn’t tell
me why.” She shrugs with a small smile. “He thinks his kid sister doesn’t
know much of anything important.”
“I see. But you’re going to be a senior soon, and then you’ll be off to
college. It goes fast. I’m sure it makes him nervous that you’ll be all
grown up.”
Her voice is quiet as she murmurs, “Maybe.” She seems a little down
thinking about it, but I’m not sure why.
I blow out a breath, trying to come up with something that most
juniors are thinking about now. “Hey, what colleges are you applying to?
Are you planning to do any visits over the summer?”
She freezes. “Oh. Um. I don’t really think so.”
My eyes dart to hers. “What do you mean? You aren’t going to visit
or you aren’t going to apply at all?”
She presses her lips together, her expression grim. “I probably won’t
apply. I just don’t know how we’d manage it.”
“Oh.”
Elena shrugs. “It’s okay. I’ll figure something out. I kind of thought
maybe I’d take a year off and work, then maybe go? I’m not sure.”
 I suck in a breath. I don’t know who I am to give Damon’s sister
advice, but it seems like she could use some. “You can apply and then
defer a year if you want to, you know that, right? Take a gap year.”
“Yes. I’m just not sure I’ll go at all.”
My heart sinks at her response. “Do you want to? You’re such a good
student, I just—”
Quietly, she whispers, “I do want to. I just don’t think we can afford
it. I feel terrible wanting to go.”
I blink a few times. “Oh.” I guess I hadn’t realized. Hmm. Well, shit.
I can feel myself totally about to overstep. And here I go … “You know
there are scholarships, right? You could also potentially get a grant,
discuss financial aid … There are work-study programs. Um, you can do
the first two years at a smaller college like Roxford. You could talk to
Mr. Rivers about that. He attends there. Or, as a last resort, a student
loan. Those aren’t probably the best idea, though.”
“It just seems like an awful lot to figure out.”
“Maybe it would be worth talking to Ms. Porter about it? She’s the
guidance counselor for the senior class next year.”
“I guess I could talk to her. Maybe she’d be able to steer me in the
right direction.” Elena tilts her head to the side, looking at me curiously.
“I see why he likes you.” And before I can even allow my mouth to
drop open in shock, she’s out of the seat and hurrying back to hers.
The pieces of the puzzle that is Damon Madero are beginning to fall
into place.
C HA PTER 2 1
 D A M ON

I’ve just finished with Frank and have wandered up to the front desk
when the phone rings there. Not seeing our receptionist anywhere in
sight, I grab the phone. “Newberry Gym.”
“Oh, hey, is this Damon?”
“Yep.”
“It’s Susan. I really hate to do this so close to class time, but I’m
home with my puking daughter. My barre class is supposed to start in
ten minutes, and I have to cancel. Can you tell the ladies what’s
happened and offer my apologies, and tell them hopefully I’ll see them
next week? I don’t want to bring our germs to class.”
Piper’s barre class. I clear my throat. “Yeah, sure. I’ll let them know.”
“Thanks so much.”
“Sure. And I hope Macy is feeling better soon.”
After I hang up with Susan, I turn around and see Madison and
Quinn come in the door, followed by none other than Piper. As they
approach, I give them an apologetic smile. “Sorry, ladies, barre class was
just canceled.”
Madison frowns. “Oh, no. Why?”
“Puke. Apparently, Susan’s youngest is sick.”
 All three women make yuck faces. Gotta say, I can’t argue with
them. As teachers, we come into contact with plenty of germs, but
there’s no need to push our luck.
“Well, we don’t want any part of that.” Quinn chuckles. “I think I’m
going to walk on the track outside. Anyone else want to come?”
Madison nods. “Sounds good. Piper?”
“I’m going to go use the restroom. I’ll meet you guys out there in a
few.”
They hesitate no more than a split second before nodding their
agreement. “See you out there.” Quinn winks at Piper and pulls Madison
away with her.
I shake my head and walk away to check the barre classroom and
make sure no one else is waiting on Susan. Piper’s footsteps head in the
other direction toward the women’s locker room.
I thought maybe she’d stayed behind to talk to me, but I guess that’s
not the case. I remain at the classroom door until about five minutes
after the class had been due to begin, then return to my favorite
punching bag, strap on my gloves and go to town on it. My fists are
flying fast when I spy Piper coming toward me out of the corner of my
eye. Maybe she has something to say after all. We’ve been mostly on our
best behavior since the field trip. Much to my surprise, we hadn’t
exchanged any barbs at all today at school. Have we finally gotten a
grip? Ended the suck-up war?
As I watch, she wanders around looking at different equipment, and
every once in a while, she peeks my way. I don’t think she realizes that
I know she’s there.
Finally, after about ten minutes, she stops near me, catching my eye.
I smack the bag one more time before stopping its motion and turning to
her. I don’t say anything, but eye her as I pull off my gloves. I toss
them aside, settling my hands on my hips.
 “Tell me about this MMA stuff.”
Well, that was unexpected. “What do you mean?”
“Why do you like it?” She gazes at me curiously, and I have to
admit, I have no idea why she’s asking.
“It’s good stress relief and keeps me in good shape.” I exhale through
my nose, decision made. “Come here.”
She frowns hard at me. “What? No.”
I roll my eyes. “Would you just not argue with me for once?”
There’s a slightly petulant look on her face, but after a few seconds,
she presses her lips together, clearly exasperated. “Fine.” She crosses to
me. “What?”
“Hold your hands out.” She eyes me warily, but holds still as I go
through the process of putting hand wraps on her. I put the loop over
her right thumb, go around her wrist three times, and around her palm.
I pause for a second. “Spread your fingers wide.” Then I continue,
concentrating on what I’m doing, but also mildly distracted by the way
her eyes are focused on me. She’s not even really watching what I’m
doing. I feel her eyes scanning my face and occasionally dropping to my
chest as I begin weaving the wrap intricately around her palm, fingers,
and wrist.
“That’s quite the process.”
I grunt. “It protects your hands. I’ll put you in gloves, too. Just give
me a second to finish up here with your other hand.”
She frowns for a second, but falls silent as she watches me work on
her left hand, mesmerized.
“Do your friends realize you aren’t joining them?”
Her lips lift into a tiny smirk. “They know.”
“Did you text them?”
“No.”
 My brows raise, but I don’t comment. “I’ll be right back.” I would
imagine the same female telepathy that happens between my sisters also
happens among Piper and her friends. She didn’t need to tell them
because they read her correctly before they walked out the door.
She wets her lips as she watches me come back over with a set of
women’s gloves for her and a pair of mitts for me. Without a word, I
help her with the gloves, then put on the mitts. I give her some
instructions as I lead her over to the mat.
She eyes my hands carefully. “Why are we doing this?”
“We’ve been going round and round in circles forever. I figure you’ve
probably wanted to hit me for a good, long while. Now’s your chance.” I
wiggle my brows at her with a grin.
“Why do you work here? Do you like it that much? Doesn’t it take a
lot of your time?” She worries her lip slowly with her teeth, raking over
the delicate pink skin.
My gaze is stuck on her lips when I answer. “It’s another job. You
know how it is. Teachers don’t get paid much. I have a family to
support.”
Her eyes go soft, and she begins to nod, and that’s when I push her
just a little further, knowing it’s going to fire her up and set her off.
“That’s why I want your job, too.”
When it clicks in her head that I’m referring to taking the
department chair position, her eyes flare and her body goes rigid. “Why
do you have to be such a jerk all the time?”
“I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m giving you the straight answer
because that’s how I play things. You’re curious about why I have
multiple jobs? Well, I’m not in it for the glory. I need the damn job.
Now, come on. Show me what you’ve got.”
She takes a swing at one of the mitts, then another, and another.
And as we go, she gets beautifully riled up. “You know what? I need
that damn job, too. You’ll do anything to make sure it’s yours, though,
won’t you? Including hurting me.”
“Oh, come on. I’m not trying to hurt you and you know it. In fact,
how do I know that kiss earlier this week wasn’t you trying to hurt
me?”
She stops and stares at me, breathing hard. “I would never. I don’t
fake things just to get my way. I could never hurt you, anyway. I’m
just an obstacle in your way. You’d be hard-pressed to convince me
otherwise.”
Judging by the look on her face, I think she wants to jump me and
punch me all at the same time. I’m beginning to think I could go for
that. I quirk a brow at her. “You’re feisty tonight. I like it. Get out that
frustration with me. Come on. Bring it.” I urge her to come back at me
and she does, twice as hard as before. She’s actually pretty damn
impressive, considering she’s never done this before. She takes a few
more swings at my mitts before she stops, bending over, bracing her
gloved hands on her knees. Her chest heaves up and down as I wait for
her to stand back up, only— Oh, shit.
She’s crying.
I swallow hard, pulling my mitts off as quickly as I can. I don’t deal
well with crying women. You’d think with three little sisters I’d have it
all figured out by now, but nope. I get all choked up. I can handle a
sister in need of talking through boy problems or one who needs me to
keep tampons and Midol in my desk drawer any day. But tears? I’m no
good at this part.
Reaching out a hand, I touch it to her shoulder before I murmur,
“Piper, what’s wrong?” I grit my teeth when she doesn’t respond, but
cries harder. “Did you hurt your hand? Let me see.”
She straightens up half-laughing, half-crying. “I didn’t hurt myself.”
Tears course down her cheeks, and she sniffs a little. “My need for the
job standing between us is no greater, no more important than yours. I
think you should know—I spoke with Elena on the bus. I know she’s
worried about having money for college. And I can’t fault you for trying
to do whatever you can, especially to support your family.” She swipes
her forearms over her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “And it strikes me
that if your father passed when you were nineteen—Damon? Have you
been supporting an entire family since you were that young?”
I shrug. “I’ve done what I had to do.” I don’t need her feeling sorry
for me or my family. We’re fine because I’ve worked hard to make it so.
I reach for her hands, helping her to remove her gloves and wraps. As I
work, I can sense her emotions rising.
Her eyes fill with tears again and slam shut as she swallows hard. “I
don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”
“Hey.” My voice is gentle, using the tone I know works best with my
sisters when they’re upset. I put my hands on her biceps and squeeze
ever so slightly. “Everything will be okay.” I bend down a bit as she
opens her eyes. I stare straight into them, noting how glassy they still
are and how those tears give them a shimmer that looks particularly
pretty—not that I like her crying one bit.
“Will it, though? I feel like I’ve been constantly proving myself my
entire life. Constantly pushing myself to be the best because …”
My fingers press gently into the skin of her arms again. “Why?” The
question rasps straight up out of my chest.
She blinks at me. “This seems stupid because I’m freaking twenty-six
years old.” She pauses, her breath ragged. “I think you know already
that my parents are hard on me. They’re super smart, strict, and have
always assumed that I’ll follow in their footsteps. They can’t understand
why I don’t automatically have the job, don’t get why it’s even a point
of contention. Their belief is that as their child, I should be able to do or
have whatever I want. Because I’m supposed to be that good.”
 I frown. “I get that to a certain extent. They’re proud of you. Want
the best for you. What do they do again?”
“But you’re missing my point. I’m not entitled to anything.” Piper
pulls away from me, turning around, a wet chuckle escaping her lips.
“They are both department chairs of their respective subjects at a very
popular academic academy about an hour from here.”
That explains a lot.
“Nothing I do is ever enough. If I get this position, there will always,
always be something else. I’m so over it, and feel like I’m stuck between
a rock and a hard place. I want the position for myself, and I’ve worked
hard for it, but I also wonder …”
My forehead creases. I want the rest of her thoughts, want this
woman’s trust, though I’m not sure why she’d give it to me. “Go on.”
She swallows visibly. “I wonder sometimes if I were to fail—if maybe
that would be better for me in the long run.” She laughs again, the hurt
in it obvious. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I’m sorry. It’s
not fair to you.”
“You can tell me anything. Anything at all.” And I mean it. I take
her head between my hands and stare into her eyes. I slide my thumb
across her lower lip before I lean in to brush a soft kiss over her mouth.
The enticing taste of her lips combines the sweetness I’d savored the last
time I kissed her with the salt from her tears. My insides twist, feeling
her pain and confusion as my own.
Piper wrenches away. “This isn’t a good idea. I can’t do this with
you.”
I watch with a heavy heart as she hurries away.
C HA PTER 2 2
 D A M ON

Piper is an enigma. We’d squabbled yesterday at the gym. And then, to

my surprise, she hadn’t argued when I’d put the gloves on her. And, oh
God, just thinking about how her curvy body had come at me, fists
flying into my mitts—it’d been the stuff dreams are made of. She’d
sparred with me physically just as well as she does verbally, and it
turned me on even more.
But then she’d shown me a soft spot, dropping her guard for just a
few minutes. I’d seen into her devastatingly sweet soul. I’d become aware
of what—besides me, of course—has been bothering her this whole time.
She’s under way more pressure from her parents than I’d initially
thought—an unbelievable amount, considering it’s coming from the two
people who are supposed to love her most. The fear of disappointing
them has her unsure of what she should do next. I dislike these people
and don’t even know them.
Now what do I do? Take advantage of knowing just how torn she is
by the whole situation? Steer her away from taking the department chair
position? Or do I give in? Let her have it? There is no easy answer here.
One of us is going to lose out. If she wins, I miss the opportunity to
make it easier for us to send Elena to college. Not that the position will
pay for much more than textbooks, but as Esme had pointed out, every
little bit counts. Or, if I win, she could be free of the burden of having
to please her parents. Who am I to say that’s what she really wants?
She’s a go-getter, despite what her parents want. She’s brilliant, really.
If I win, do I lose my chance with her? Is that what I want? Would
I be okay with that? Or is she who I want? I have no idea. I feel like I
could maybe get behind this delicious love/hate thing Piper and I have
going on, but then I wonder if I should be cancelling the date with
Sherlock4Love. I almost feel like I’m cheating. But I’m not with either of
them.
I shake my head in confusion. My hope is that if I do meet this
other woman, I’ll see a clearer course of action, and maybe have a little
less guilt over everything once I know what the actual stakes are. I
don’t like feeling like a cheater when I’m not even in a relationship with
anyone.
Piper, though … She’s something. If we had no other issues between
us—no department chair position, no demanding parents, no sister to
send to college, no Sherlock4Love—I’d go after her without wasting
another second. Fuck yes, I would. I see that now.
My phone pings, and I glance down to see a message has just come
in from Sherlock4Love. The first message that comes in is a photo—which
we’ve never exchanged before—and oh my fucking God, it’s a hotter-
than-hell partial image of a woman bathing, her legs emerging from
water in a bathtub, bubbles all around the soft-looking skin of her
thighs, feet propped up on the edge as she soaks. Holy hell. I can’t tell if
my dick is still hard from thoughts of Piper or if I’m getting turned on
by this woman online. Maybe both at the same time. I don’t know what
to do with that.
The photo is accompanied by one single message.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I wonder how I’ll figure out who you are
tomorrow night? The game is afoot. :)

Oh, boy. As much as I think I’m starting to feel things for Piper, I
can’t back out on this girl—whoever she is. I just can’t.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I’ll be the

one waiting for you, of course. Use your razor-sharp deductive skills to
figure it out, Sherlock.
C HA PTER 2 3
 PIPE R

Fresh out of my bath, I pull on leggings and the T-shirt with the
Sherlock quote that Madison had given me for Christmas. I felt decidedly
naughty sending that sexy photo to Prof.M., but it’s now or never. I’m
completely out of control with no idea which end is up anymore. I feel
like I’m being torn in a thousand different directions at once. The only
steady, dependable thing in my life is my state of utter confusion. And
I’d decided while lying there in the bathtub—thinking about the
craziness that is my life—that if I’m going to figure this out, maybe I
need to really shake things up. Hence my first semi-naughty photo ever.
I can’t believe I actually had the nerve to both take it and send it. It’s
out in the cyberverse now; there’s no taking it back.
Thank goodness for our book club meeting tonight because there’s no
better source of comfort for me than an evening with my girlfriends.
We’ve been reading a new romantic suspense by my favorite indie
author, and I wish I could say I’m ready to discuss it, but I have so
much else on my mind, I’m afraid I’ll be no good to anyone. I’m mostly
looking forward to girl talk, which is ironic because it’s usually me
trying to keep everyone on track and talking about the actual books. Not
tonight, though.
 Thank goodness I’m hosting and had decided on a girls’ night in so
that we can relax—not to mention have some privacy. I don’t need any
extra people overhearing anything about the brand of chaos my life has
become.
A light rap on the door has me breathing a sigh of relief. Oh, thank
goodness. The cavalry is beginning to arrive. When I open the door, a
smiling Quinn automatically holds out both hands to me, a bottle of
wine in one and my favorite hat and gloves in the other.
“Come on in.” My brow furrows as I reach for the knitwear. “Oh my
gosh, did you go back and get these for me? I’d written them off after
leaving them at the cider mill on Hadleigh’s birthday.”
“Oh.” She presses her lips together, eyes casting down for just a
quick second. She refocuses on me with a wink. “You seemed upset that
you’d left them behind, so after I dropped everyone off for the night, I
went back for them. I keep forgetting to bring them to school for you.”
I narrow my eyes at her. I can tell there’s something not quite right
about her behavior and wonder what she’s hiding, but then the doorbell
rings again and the thought flies from my head.
Quinn whirls around and pulls the door open, finding everyone else
has arrived at once. “Hello, my lovelies! Come on in. Piper and I were
just about to crack open the bottle of wine I brought.” She eyes the other
assorted bottles in their hands. “Looks like we are in good shape for the
evening. Maybe too good.”
The girls rush inside, discarding coats and hats as they go, smiles all
around. No one is aware of my inner turmoil yet, and I’m going to try
to keep it that way for a little while, at least.
Quinn leads the way into the kitchen and we trail after her like
little ducklings. I hand her my corkscrew from the drawer, and she
makes quick work of opening several bottles of wine. Sophia turns
around, opens a cabinet, and pulls down my stemless wine glasses,
wrinkling her nose as she hands them off to Zoey and Madison. “I just
figured, you know, after what happened the last time we all had wine
together …” She tries hard to suppress a laugh.
Hadleigh catches her eye from where she’s seated at the kitchen
island and lets out a rather unladylike giggle-snort. “Stemless, eh? I can’t
help it that you hadn’t heard the joke about the sign hanging on the
door of the out-of-business brothel.”
Madison snorts loudly as she accepts a full glass from Quinn. “Beat
it! We’re closed!”
That sends us all into gales of laughter. At least this time no one is
knocking over stemmed wine glasses as we lose our shit over the joke …
again. I still say it was Hadleigh’s fault for not warning us. I’m still
trying to get the wine stain out of the shirt I was wearing that night.
I gesture for all of them to follow me out to the living room where
I’d planned for us to gather. I’ve got a selection of cheeses, crackers,
sliced salami, and grapes among other things on a platter for us to
nibble on while we talk. I look up from where I’ve just perched on a big
pillow on the floor to see Sophia and Quinn each bringing a bottle of
wine over to the coffee table. “Awesome. Now we don’t have to move for
a while.”
I pull my Kindle off the end table and look at some of the highlights
I’d made while reading as everyone settles in.
Madison starts us off. “I really liked this one. The romance was still
the main plotline, but adding the suspense factor of not knowing who
the killer was took it to a whole other level.”
“I had a heart attack moment when I thought Jon was the killer—
and it occurred to me during a scene where they were having sex. I
almost died.” Hadleigh’s eyes are wide as she takes a sip of her wine.
“I’m glad you guys liked it.” I smile carefully, then zone out as they
continue to chatter away.
“Piper?”
“She’s totally not paying attention.”
“Earth to Piper.”
With a start, I jerk my head over toward the voices. Oh, man. I’ve
been off in la-la land. I grit my teeth together, looking at the curious
faces of my friends. “Um. Sorry. What did you say?”
Quinn tilts her head to the side. “Well, first, I asked if you wanted
more wine but you didn’t answer. That’s when everyone started calling
your name.”
“Where’d you go? Daydreaming?” Zoey frowns, her eyes roaming over
my face as if she’s scanning it for clues.
“Ooh, was it a sexy daydream about a hybrid Damon and Professor
Moriarty character?” Hadleigh wiggles her eyebrows at me. “That’d be
hot. Like everything you want in a man all rolled into one.”
My heart rate kicks up, sending color up my neck and over my
cheeks. I slap my hands to my face, which is now decidedly hot. “Oh
my God, stop.” My eyes flick over their faces one by one. I don’t sense
any judgment at all, just interest.
Sophia’s eyes widen. “‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’”
She grins and takes a sip of her wine. “That’s language you understand,
right, Piper?”
I smile weakly at them “I’m really sorry, girls. I knew when you
came over that my head was not in the best place tonight.”
Madison, who is sitting on a poufy pillow next to me, reaches out
and runs a hand over my back. “What’s wrong?”
“A lot of things, actually.” I suck my lips into my mouth for a few
seconds before nodding briefly and taking a sip of my wine. “I’m about
ready to throw my hands up and just be done with trying for the
department chair position. I’m no longer up for a battle of wits with
Damon. I guess if I get the position, great. My parents will be off my
back for a little while. If not, I’ll applaud Damon for his victory.”
“Do you really think he’d be the right choice? Over you?” Quinn
questions.
I shrug. “I know you all see him as this newcomer who’s given me
grief and aggravated me this whole damn year, but he’s really smart
and he’s a good teacher. I could totally see him doing a fantastic job.”
More than one pair of brows go up.
“Truly. He’s confident, decisive, a born leader …”
Sophia blows out a breath. “But you’d do an amazing job, Piper. We
know you know it, too. We know how badly you’ve wanted this. How
long you’ve waited …”
Zoey’s voice is quiet. “It’d break my heart to see you give up on it.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if I do want it anymore.” I heave
out a shuddery breath before continuing. “Damon kissed me again
yesterday.”
“What?”
“Oh my God.”
“I knew it!”
“Oh, man.”
“Was it sexy hotness?”
I can’t even tell which exclamation burst from which mouth—except
maybe that last one. I try to smile, but I can’t quite manage it. “But this
time it was different. It was soft and sweet. Like he cares about me.” My
face crumples. “I don’t know what to do about anything anymore. You
know I’m meeting the guy from Tryst tomorrow, right?”
Hadleigh lifts a finger. “Uh, no. You didn’t say anything.”
I lick my lower lip. “Well, I am. In public, like you suggested. I’m
hoping I can at least sort that all out if I know who he is and whether
I actually like him.”
“But what about Damon?” Quinn sends me a questioning look, her
face drawn.
“I. Don’t. Know. This is why I need to do this. I can’t handle not
knowing which path to take. I feel like maybe if I meet this guy, my
mind will be clearer.”
Madison’s eyes widen. “Or it’ll make things twice as complicated. You
have a fifty-fifty shot, I guess.”
“Right. I’ve spent so much time pondering all the what-ifs, this is the
only logical next step I can think of.” I sigh. “And I like this other guy.
He’s kind and fun and we seem so well-suited.”
Hadleigh tilts her head to the side. “But do you think you like him
better than Damon? Who you seem to already have, like, freakishly hot,
angsty chemistry with?”
I hold up my hands. “I have no idea. But I guess I’ll find out
tomorrow.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, and everyone stares at
it like it’s a ticking time bomb. “That’ll likely be a message from Professor
Moriarty. I sent him a photo right before you all got here.”
Sophia asks, “A photo, sweetie? Of you? I thought you weren’t doing
that.”
Zoey asks another question before I can even answer Sophia. “Oh,
you mean so he can find you tomorrow?”
I shake my head. “No.” I look up at the ceiling before I murmur,
“Just my legs. Propped up against the edge of the bathtub.” It’s quiet in
the room until my gaze travels back down, meeting each of theirs.
Madison’s hands cover the lower half of her face, eyes wide. “Wow,”
she says from behind her hands.
Hadleigh leans in. “Whoa. Wait, so, like a sort of naked photo? Like
a whoever this is can imagine the rest of you in the tub kind of photo?”
 I shrug. “I guess so.” I glance down at my phone, tapping the Tryst
app and opening it. I blink. Rapidly. What I see on the screen has my
head spinning. That’s a very delicious-looking man. I look up at the girls
and back down to the image. “Wow.” I swallow, my heart racing. “I
don’t know if I was ready for that.”
The silence in the room is deafening as everyone waits for me to
process what’s just happened. I steal another look at the photo, biting
down hard on my lip as I do. It’s angled from above, a snapshot of a
sweaty torso in a pair of workout shorts, a tattoo inked on the rib cage.
Miles and miles of glistening skin. Hard pecs. Defined abs. A trail of
dark hair disappearing inside the waistband of the shorts where there is
a very enticing-looking bulge. Something in my brain short circuits. And
that tattoo. Wait. That tattoo. I’ve seen it before.
With a gasp, my pulse flies through the roof. I must look a sight
because Hadleigh, Sophia, Quinn, and Zoey all set their wine glasses
down, and before I am able to say a word, they’re kneeling in front of
me in a semicircle. Madison still sits at my side and has resumed
rubbing my back.
My hands shake violently, and I hold the phone out for someone else
to take from me. Quinn plucks it out of my hand and studies the photo.
Hadleigh whispers at her, “Please tell me it’s not a dick pic. Or are
we hoping for a dick pic? I’m confused.”
“It’s just a sweaty man chest with a tat—”
Sophia snatches the phone from Quinn, glances at it, and passes it
on.
By the time the phone gets to Madison, I think maybe, just maybe,
I’m seeing things. Maybe I’m overreacting.
Or maybe it’s Damon.
“Um.” Madison side-eyes me. “I recognize that tattoo.” She holds it
up. “Quinn, look again.”
 “Oh. Shit.”
I nod. “So, I’m not wrong. What am I going to do?”
Zoey holds her hands out. “Stop. Fill us in. Some of us are still lost
here.”
My heart is pounding so hard, my head hurts. I whisper what I
know to be true without any further analysis of the facts at hand.
“Professor Moriarty is Damon.”
Maybe I black out for a minute because when I snap to, everyone
has been calling my name again.
Hadleigh’s voice finally registers with me. “Piper, what are you going
to do?”
My hands flail in front of me. “I don’t know. I guess … I guess I go
meet him, and try not to die slowly inside when he realizes it’s been me
all this time.”
“Piper! Why would you think he wouldn’t be excited she’s, well,
you?” Sophia studies me, gritting her teeth.
“I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like he doesn’t like me. Or he’s
doing things, treating me a certain way just to ensure he gets chosen for
the job.”
Zoey studies my face, and I hate seeing the pity on hers. “Do you
really think that’s true?”
“I don’t know.” And that’s the truth. I just don’t know. It’s hitting
me way down deep that the man who I’ve been falling for, despite
everything standing between us, is also the someone else I was coming
to feel things for. And it’s like a double whammy, intensifying all the
emotions I was having for the two of them separately. Now that I know
it’s one man making me feel all of this, it’s overwhelming. I don’t know
if my heart can downshift this fast. And I sure as hell don’t know what
to do when I see Damon tomorrow night.
C HA PTER 2 4
 D A M ON

I’d been a little nervous last night when Sherlock4Love hadn’t

immediately replied back when I’d sent her the photo of my chest. A
while later, though, I’d gotten a simple response, telling me she’d see me
at Giarelli’s at seven. This place was a good choice. I haven’t been in
here since they did some major remodeling, and the place looks great
now—a perfect mix of trendy on the inside, while still being small-town
Newberry on the outside. I’d planted myself at the bar about twenty
minutes ago. I have no idea why I’d arrived so damn early, other than
I’m excited and nervous as hell.
I glance at my phone to see it’s only 6:50 p.m. Ten minutes to go.
Ten minutes until I meet Sherlock4Love. Ten minutes until my life
changes forever. Or not. I groan inwardly. I’m being completely idiotic. I
just hope I don’t get fucking stood up. That would be the worst, not
knowing if she’s walked in, spotted me, and walked right back out.
The door opens, and I steel myself, wondering if it could be her. I
take a sip of my beer, and glance casually over my shoulder. Because I’m
all sorts of cool right now. On the outside, anyway.
To my amazement and incredulity, Piper walks in, making a beeline
to the bar. She shrugs out of her coat and smiles as the bartender works
his way over to her to take her order. Once she has her drink in hand—
looks like a rum and Coke, maybe—she looks around, her gaze finally
landing on me. She lifts a hand in greeting, and I return the gesture.
Of all the crazy nights for her to show up here … I shake my head,
not believing my shitty luck. I grab my beer and prepare to go over
there, knowing I can’t ignore her. But, fuck me, I can’t move. I don’t
know how to handle this. How am I supposed to meet this other woman
when the woman I’ve been kissing is right. The fuck. There. I can
hardly wrap my head around it. Instead of getting up, I drain my beer
and request another. How the hell am I going to handle Piper and
Sherlock4Love potentially coming face-to-face?
With a fresh beer in hand, I decide I’ll just say a quick hello to be
polite. She’s probably waiting on her girlfriends. Maybe they’ll show up
and she won’t pay further attention to me. She runs with a whole damn
posse of women these days. I’ve seen them laughing and joking over
lunch down in the library on Friday afternoons.
Okay. I can do this. I just have to talk to her for a quick second,
find Sherlock4Love, and somehow convince her that we can’t stay here.
That’s going to be one hell of a tough thing to do. Finally, I stand and
make my way over to the end of the bar.
My eyes take a visual tour of her as I approach. She looks fucking
amazing tonight. Tight jeans, tall boots, and a pretty purple floral blouse.
Her hair is twisted up in a knot on top of her head, and her lips are
painted a slightly deeper pink than she usually wears. How the fuck I’ve
noticed what color lipstick she wears I have no idea.
Only, I kind of do. I’ve been secretly memorizing her features for a
while now, whether I want to admit it to her—or myself—or not.
When I reach her, an anxious smile plays on my lips. I really hope
Piper is not still here when I meet Sherlock4Love for the first time. “Hey,
Piper. Meeting your friends tonight?” I set my bottle down on the bar
and prop my ass on the edge of the stool next to hers.
 She glances at me, and takes in a deep breath through her nose.
“Nope. A date.”
Well, fuck. I wasn’t expecting that. And from the tight feeling in my
chest, I guess my ego wasn’t expecting that either. “So, who’s the
unlucky guy?” I’m joking. Kind of. Any dude that shows up just needs
to leave. I don’t know if I can bear to watch her with someone else.
Oh, man. I’m being a gigantic asshole. She is not mine.
She works her jaw back and forth as she looks beyond me around
the room. “No one you’d know, I don’t think.”
I take a swallow of my beer, feeling a little … jealous. Fuck. Yep. This
is jealousy rearing its ugly head. I nod and take a second swallow. And
for some reason, I can’t stop the things coming from my mouth. I
murmur, “I’m sure he’s a real winner, whoever he is.” I can’t help it. I
don’t want her here seeing some other guy. Yes, I realize just how
hypocritical that is, as I’m sitting here waiting for a date of my own. I
hang my head for a second before I lift it, ready to apologize.
Her eyes flash fire at me. “I’d like to think he’s a good guy, but
sometimes people prove you wrong after all.” She chugs her drink and
sets the tumbler down. She slides off her stool and turns to collect her
coat.
Dammit. I’m acting like a complete jerk, but I can’t seem to help
myself. Apologize, Damon. Don’t be that guy.
Piper turns around, sliding her arms into her coat. She presses her
lips together, shaking her head. “I think I’m going to leave, Damon. I
didn’t think Professor Moriarty was such a dick.” Our gazes meet and
hold. It could have been seconds or minutes that we stare at each other.
She blinks a few times and sadness flickers through her eyes.
Her lip trembles, and that’s the last thing I see before she rushes
toward the exit.
Confusion wars within me.
 My brain doesn’t fully compute what she’s actually said for a full
five seconds. She’s already at the door, pulling it open, when I hurl
myself from the stool and jog halfway toward her. I jerk to a stop, my
chest heaving. “Wait.” And then louder, “You’re Sherlock?”
I know heads around us are turning and people are watching,
wondering what the hell is transpiring right before their eyes.
Piper pauses at the door to glance over her shoulder at me, and I
question her without words if she’s who I think she is. The answer is
right there, written all over her face. I inhale quickly, my eyes dropping
to her pink, unsmiling lips. The knowledge that those dirty, sinful words
Sherlock4Love sent me could have come from sweet Piper Mathison’s
mouth does me in. The fuck?
It hits me hard that she knew I was Prof.M. when she walked in
here tonight. She’s been fucking playing me this whole time. It guts me.
I can’t fucking believe she did this. She could have done any number of
things, but this was really low. She played with my heart—twice over.
She made me fall for her and Sherlock4Love. All for a job. But I’m the
dick?
C HA PTER 2 5
 PIPE R

Not that I’d needed confirmation once I’d seen the tattoo in the photo
last night, but I’m mortified when Damon calls out to me. I turn around
to face him—yep, my Prof.M. is none other than Damon Madero, the
very attractive thorn in my side. As I stand there staring at him, I know
he understands without me ever having to say a word that it’s been me
messaging him this whole time. I want to crawl into a hole and not
come out for a decade.
For the love of all that’s holy, I’d asked him to touch me. Insinuated
that I’d do all sorts of wicked, filthy things to him, with him.
And the kicker? It doesn’t matter if Prof.M. is Damon because I’d do
all those same things with him, too. I’d love to. I really would. I’d
wanted him despite the job issue, and now … well, everything is just one
huge clusterfuck.
His face is absolutely shell-shocked—like he’s been tossed a grenade
and has no idea what to do with it. And I’m over here about to have a
panic attack. What emotion is that in his eyes? Anger? Confusion?
Disappointment? Maybe it’s all three. I can’t tell, and it’s sending me to a
very scary place in my mind.
I’ve had twenty-four hours to come to terms with the fact that I’ve
been talking to Damon as Prof.M., to wrap my head around the fact that
they are the same person. And if I’m honest with myself, a part of me
had been falling for both of them this whole time. As more emotions
surfaced and the relationships evolved, I’d begun to feel such
tremendous guilt. But I don’t have to feel guilty anymore, do I? I’d felt
almost relieved last night when I’d seen the tattoo and figured it out,
but now all of that is quickly disappearing the longer this silence
stretches on. His stare is disbelieving, unhappy, cold.
I can’t take it anymore. I turn and slip out the door, walking as
quickly as I can in my heeled boots on the snow-covered sidewalk. I
dive into my car, start the engine, and peel away from the curb. I take
the turns way too fast, and my car slips and slides toward home on the
slush-covered roads.
At my apartment complex, I park cockeyed in my space, and I’m so
desperate to get inside I don’t even care. I’ve just grabbed my purse off
the passenger seat when my phone buzzes inside my bag.
Right. That’ll be the girls checking in to make sure I’m okay. I’d told
them I’d text them from the restaurant. I close my eyes. I don’t even
know what to say.
With a deep breath, I exit the car and make my way up to my
apartment. Somewhere on the way home, my head had begun to pound.
I stop in the kitchen, drop my bag on the counter, and grab a bottle of
Tylenol out of the cabinet. I swallow a few before fishing my phone out
of my bag. My mind is whirring, but my heart is heavy. I wrap my
arms around myself and wander back into my bedroom, climbing
directly onto the bed, too mentally exhausted to change just yet.
I manage a small smile when I see there’s been a rather lively group
text going on while they were waiting for me to confirm that I’m okay.

Quinn: Earth to Piper!

Madison: Here we go again.
Sophia: Piper, we need an update. You’re supposed to let us know
you’re okay.
Zoey: Maybe we should let her be. What if they’re …?
Hadleigh: Ooh, yes. What if they are rubbing the fun bits?
Quinn: <snort> Well, no rush, but please let us know you’re okay
when you can.
Zoey: I’m nervous for her about how Damon reacted.
Sophia: Oh, I’m sure there will be lots for her to tell us about.
Madison: But no rush. Not especially if there are sexy times being had.
Hadleigh: Bow chicka wow wow!
Oh, how I wish sexy times were being had. I’d even settle for a nice
dinner with a man I think I have feelings for. This was about the last
thing I’d prepared for. I thought we’d talk about it, but he was being a
jerk about me being there to meet someone. To be fair, I probably could
have handled telling him that I knew it was him better, too. Ugh. He’d
made me so mad, though. Still, I know he likes me or he wouldn’t have
kissed me. Right? So how is the fact that I’m Sherlock4Love a bad thing?

Me: Girls, I’m afraid it didn’t go well. :(

Sophia: Oh, no. Why?
Quinn: What happened?
Me: Well, first he came up to me, obviously not thinking it could
possibly be me.
Me: Then I was trying to figure out how to tell him, and I told him I
was waiting for a date, hoping he’d get the hint.
Me: Instead, he made me feel awkward about it.
Madison: That’s weird.
Me: It almost felt like he was jealous.
Zoey: You were both there to meet someone.
Hadleigh: I don’t get it, though. What happened?
Me: I got tired of feeling insulted and told him I didn’t know Prof.M.
was such a dick and took off.
Madison: Oh, crap.
Me: But before I could get out the door, he called out to Sherlock.
Sophia: Oof.
Quinn: You can say that again.
Me: Yeah. He looked a little mad. Confused. Upset, maybe.
Me: I’m trying to convince myself he wasn’t disappointed, but I’m doing
a poor job of it.
Zoey: Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.
Hadleigh: :( :( I’m so upset for you.
Me: Thanks. I think I’m going to try to sleep off a headache. I didn’t
want to leave you hanging.

There’s just one more thing I have to do before bed.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I wish things hadn’t happened like that.

That wasn’t how I’d expected the night to go.
C HA PTER 2 6
 D A M ON

I grimace as I look again at the message Sherlock4Love had sent me via

Tryst. Or rather, Piper. I’m having a lot of trouble coming to terms with
the idea that it’s been Piper talking dirty to me on the app all this time.
It was Piper who told me she wanted to lick me all over, who’d said I
make her wet with just my words, who wanted to have my hands all
over her. Christ, she’d even said she wanted to suck my dick—with the
disclaimer that we’d have to meet so she could be sure she actually liked
me, of course. Of course. And now, knowing all of those dirty fantasies
had come straight from the genius mind of Piper Mathison? Holy fuck.
And  … lift off. Great. Now I’m sitting at brunch at my mother’s
dining room table with my sisters and a semi while thinking about her
pink lips on my cock. I blink hard and try to shake the thoughts from
my head.
“Whoa. What the hell happened to you?” Arabella eyes me as she sits
down at the dining room table.
Normally, I enjoy brunch with my family. When I made the mistake
of telling Esme and Arabella that I’d be seeing Sherlock4Love on
Saturday night, they’d insisted on shifting our family meal to Sunday,
wanting to hear all about it directly afterward.
 The honest truth is as much as I love my mom and sisters, I just
want to go back home, crawl into my bed, and sleep the day away. I’m
frickin’ exhausted.
I grunt, dismissing her question. “Drop it, Bella.”
Esme wanders into the room and automatically senses the tension.
She quickly lowers herself into a seat.
My sisters exchange a glance. Esme whispers, “Quick, tell us before
Mom and Elena sit down.”
I work my jaw back and forth. “Let’s just suffice it to say that the
app must not keep identities as secret as they claim they do.”
Arabella wrinkles her nose. “What? That makes no sense. They’d be
out of business in no time.”
“And maybe they will be.” I wave my hand. “I’m just irritated. This
woman was somehow able to manipulate things so she knew who I was.
I think she’s known it was me the whole time.”
Esme smacks our sister on the arm lightly with the back of her hand.
“He hasn’t slept—that’s what this bad mood is.”
I roll my eyes. It’s true. I’d tossed and turned all night long, trying
to figure out how she’d managed it. How she’d figured out it was me
and been able to fool me like that. To think before I arrived at Giarelli’s
last night, I’d had the fleeting thought to call things off with
Sherlock4Love to pursue Piper and say fuck the job. Fuck everything.
Just so long as I could have her.
“And over a woman. When’s the last time that happened?” Arabella
snorts loudly.
Esme grins, shaking her head. “Like, never.”
“Never what?” Mom comes into the dining room and sets a platter of
pancakes in the middle. Elena follows with the syrup and a plateful of
bacon.
 Arabella smiles. “Oh, just that we haven’t seen Damon this torn up
over a woman in forever.”
“What?” Elena sits down next to me. “Are you dating someone?” She
bites her lip. “But I thought you liked Ms. Mathison.”
I groan, ignoring her for the moment. “Can we not discuss my love
life or lack of one at the table, please? It’s way too early for this.”
Mom frowns. “Oh, boy. Somebody did you dirty.”
“Kind of.”
“Ms. Mathison wouldn’t do that.” Elena’s forehead creases, she’s
clearly distressed.
Esme pats her hand. “It wasn’t Ms. Mathison. It was someone he met
on a dating app.”
“But if you like Ms. Mathison, what were you doing on some dating
app? That doesn’t seem fair to her, Damon.”
And how was I supposed to know that I’d become involved with
both? When I joined the app, Piper was just my infuriating coworker.
The woman I liked to argue with just for the sake of it so I could see
where her brilliant mind would take us. Fuck. A woman I’d respected.
Trusted. And look where that’s gotten me.
“Oh, for the love of all that’s holy. Piper is the woman from the
dating app. And I did like her. But somehow, she knew it was me. It’s
just one more thing she’s been doing to distract me from the promotion
dangling between us.”
How had I not seen the signs that they were the same person? No,
we’ve never talked about our mutual love for the world’s favorite
detective before, but looking back at all the banter we’d had back and
forth on Tryst, it seems almost obvious. Somehow, I feel like I should
have known.
Mom tilts her head to the side, studying me, “I thought that was
going well? You said you thought you had a good chance at it. You
really think she’d find you on a dating app just to ruin your chances?”
My elbows land on the table in front of me, my hands gripping my
head in frustration. “I don’t know. It just seems too coincidental. It’s
improbable that this is all just a big fluke.”
“Well, you never know. Have you talked to her about it?”
I sigh, sitting back in my chair. “No. I was mad. She left the
restaurant we were meeting at. The guilt on her face was plain as day. I
didn’t have to ask. She knew it was me.”
Esme picks up a piece of bacon, tearing it into pieces. “Has she
contacted you?”
“She sent me one message last night. I didn’t respond. I’m not ready
to. She’s been lying to me.”
Elena looks on the verge of tears. “You should talk to her. Ms.
Mathison isn’t a liar. She’s a good person.”
I grimace. Until last night, I would have completely agreed with
Elena. Now I don’t know what to think. “I know you mean well, but
please drop it. I need to figure this out on my own.”
How could Piper want the job so badly that she’d thrown aside all
sense of morality? I’ve been back and forth a million times wondering
how I could have missed that everything she’d done had been a ploy to
get what she wants. How had she pulled it off?
And she’s been lying to my face this whole time. Telling me she
wants me via the app. Responding to my kisses and melting in my arms.
Jesus, how far was she willing to go to get her way?
C HA PTER 2 7
 PIPE R

Damon hasn’t spoken a word to me in four days. My heart screams out

for him to say something to me. Anything. Just want me for who I am.
Don’t be disappointed Sherlock4Love turned out to be me. He’s ignored
me here at school and hasn’t responded to a single message I’ve left him
on Tryst. What is he thinking? What is going through his head? It’s
taking every last bit of strength I have to get through each day
knowing he’s angry with me, sitting right here beside me, but unwilling
to talk things through.
I’m quite literally at my breaking point. I can’t go on like this, day
in and day out. To have come so close to everything I’ve wanted only to
have it all come crashing down hurts me like nothing I’ve felt before. I
don’t want it to be this way between us. I summon all the courage I
have before I murmur, “Are we never speaking again?”
Damon side-eyes me. “You want to talk?” His voice is all grit and
gravel, as though he hasn’t spoken to anyone, even though I know that
can’t be true.
“Well, yeah. I don’t understand why you are so upset, so angry, that
you won’t even talk to me about what happened. We’re adults. Would it
hurt you to act like one?” Sue me. After four days of the brush-off, I’m
not only sad, but also a tiny bit pissed off.
 At my tone, he angles his body to face me, his face rigid. “Fine. It
was bad enough that you tricked me into talking to you on the app, but
you know what? It occurred to me you kind of came onto me at the
gym, too.”
My mouth drops open, and I blink a few times before I can
formulate a response. “I didn’t trick you in any way, and I didn’t come
onto you. Not like you are saying. I responded to you, sure.”
He groans and the sound rumbles deep in his chest. “You expect me
to believe that? You started it. You came around where I was working.
You watched me, waited to talk to me. And then—”
“And then we kissed each other. Just like you told me the day after
—'two sets of lips, two tongues, two bodies.’” I gesture back and forth
with a pointed finger between us.
He shakes his head, cheeks turning a deep crimson color. “You’ve
always known it was me and you kept it secret. Watched as I got in
deeper and deeper with you. With her. Fuck.” He scrubs his hand
through his hair almost violently.
I huff, so mad at him I want to scream. “I absolutely did not. I did
no such thing. I don’t know how you could think I’d do any of that.” It
pains me that he assumes I’ve been party to some sort of emotional
warfare—like I’ve enjoyed toying with him. He’s making me so damn
angry I’m visibly shaking. I blink back tears. I will not cry. “You’re
wrong, Damon.”
His jaw clenches. “Tell me what I’m wrong about, then.”
“Everything. You have it all wrong.” How do I explain this to him
when he’s convinced I’ve done something so cruel? I’m flustered and my
words, which I’m usually so good at finding, are not coming out the
way I want them to. I’m going to lose him. And I don’t know what to
do to stop it. I’m a complete novice when it comes to talking to men like
this. I’ve never been in this position before and it kills me, but I don’t
know what to say to make things right.
When I don’t immediately continue, he rolls his chair backward and
stands. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to do a count and make sure all the
books I loaned out have come back.” He turns away from me and stalks
into the supply closet.
With my heart in my throat, I follow him, not at all sure what I’m
about to do or say. I have to try something, so I shut the door behind
us. “Damon …”
He eyes the closed door behind me. “What? Admit it, you did all this
on purpose. This is all a fucking game to you.”
Before he can see what’s coming, I take his head in my hands and
pull him down to me, kissing him squarely on the lips. He hesitates for
a split second, and I imagine I’ve succeeded in throwing him off balance.
Our breaths mingle, and on a groan, he clasps me to him, deepening the
kiss. The hunger between us is an angry storm filled with torment and
longing. His hands tighten on my hips, and I moan in relief. I’ve missed
his touch. I’ve missed his taste.
But mostly, I’ve just missed him. My friend. The man I work side by
side with every single day. Without realizing it, I’ve come to depend on
our daily banter and the way he looks at me. The way he cares for me.
And when those things were taken from me, it’d been nothing short of
devastating. And to have lost Prof.M. at the same time? I’ve been in
turmoil wondering how to fix things, not knowing how to make things
right. Until now. This is what we’ve both needed … to shut up and just
feel.
When we finally unlock lips, I don’t want to back up, don’t want to
leave his arms because it feels so right. He is where I want to be.
“Would you stop with all the yelling and accusations and listen to me
for a minute?”
 He exhales heavily and nods, looking at me, his eyes half-hooded. I
hope I can get out what I need to say before our lips get in the way
again.
“I’ve never tried to hurt you. I didn’t know it was you until the
night before.” My breath hitches. I don’t know how to do this, but I’ve
already lost everything, so I’m going to have to just lay it all out there.
What’s the worst that can happen? He shoots me down? My throat goes
incredibly dry at the thought, but I manage to rasp. “Damon, I have
feelings for you. And now that I know you’re him? They’re stronger.
Please don’t throw us away over this.”
He backs me up to a bookshelf, lowering his mouth a hair’s breadth
away from mine. I exhale, and he drinks in my breath. I see it in his
eyes; he’s trying to come to a decision. I don’t know if he will continue
to blame me or decide to believe what I’m telling him and give in to
what he feels. I know he wants me. I feel it in the way he looks at me,
the way he holds me. And most of all, I’ve always felt it in the way he
kisses me.
His mouth slants over mine, his hands curling around the back of
my neck, thumbs stroking my jaw. His tongue meets mine and the need
flowing through me is like wildfire, the flames licking every part of me—
my body, my soul. He fills in all the missing pieces of my heart.
Damon groans as he runs his hands over my breasts, squeezing one,
then they continue down the sides of my torso, and finally rest on my
ass. His fingers dig into me just before he pulls me close, and I whimper
at the feel of his erection pressing hard against my stomach. I can’t help
myself; I strain closer, wanting to know all of him. My breasts feel full
and tingly, and my nipples pebble almost painfully as we grind together.
He hitches my leg on his hip, and I take the cue, wrapping it
around him. He reaches between us, gathering my skirt and pulling it
up, fingers burning me everywhere he touches. My thigh, my stomach,
and finally—finally—they slip down the front of my panties.
“Oh God, yes.” The words are ripped from my lips, totally surprising
both him and me.
He growls deep in his throat. “Fuck, Piper. You’re completely soaked.”
His mouth falls to my neck, kissing and sucking on my skin as he slides
his fingers through my folds, dipping into my core and gathering
moisture. His arousal-slickened fingers rub tight circles around my clit,
making me gasp before I release a heady moan.
My body bucks against his hand, seeking a release from the building
pressure, and I lose myself in his touch. He’s rough, then gentle,
sweeping me up in the moment until I’ve forgotten everything—where
we are, who I am, even my own name. The leg I’m standing on begins
to quake and go weak, but he just wraps an arm around my waist,
holding me in place while he continues to work his magic with his
fingers. All at once, my whole body begins to shake with the force of
the orgasm as it slams through me. His mouth covers mine in a
heartbreakingly gentle kiss as I go limp and my muscles twitch and
spasm with a pleasure so keen, I don’t know if I can handle it. I gasp
into his mouth, “Damon.”
My whole world has just been rocked. Hard. I don’t understand how
we haven’t yet even talked about everything, don’t know where we
stand, but our bodies sure as hell understand when something is right.
Oh. So. Right.
He holds me until I can stand on my own, then steps back, all while
sucking my moisture from his fingers. He props his hands on his hips,
studying me. I’m sure I look like a hot mess. Somewhere in the
background is the sound of the last bell of the day ringing, and it
brings both of us crashing back to reality—he’s just made me come in
the supply closet. During school hours, no less. My cheeks color as I
straighten my skirt and tuck my hair behind my ears. It also doesn’t
escape me that while I’d told him how I feel, he’d never really
responded. My eyes flick up to meet his. I’m relieved to see warmth
there, not the icy stares I’ve been getting all week.
He clears the roughness in this throat. “I have to meet Frank for
practice in thirty minutes, so I have to go. But I think we still have
more to say to each other.”
“Considering you really didn’t say anything, yes, I agree.”
“On the contrary, Sherlock. I just said everything I needed to—with
my eyes, with my lips, with my body. Put your detective skills to work.”
The edges of his lips twitch into a smile.
His overconfidence is actually exactly what I need right now, no
matter that it makes me want to kiss that cocky grin right off his face.
“Can I see you after I’m done at the gym?”
C HA PTER 2 8
 D A M ON

Frank and I circle each other, our gloved hands up in defensive stances.
We’re running drills again, as we so often do right before big fights. I
strike three times. He does the same. Repeat. Should be a pretty simple
practice. I just need to focus, pay attention, and defend myself when
needed. Frank is a great student, and he’s fast, dodging my strikes and
doling them out like a pro.
Over and over in my head, I run through everything Piper told me.
She’d said she hadn’t known it was me until just before we’d met. In
fact, thinking back, she’d been close to tears when she denied knowing
it was me the whole time. And if that’s the case, she hadn’t been using
the app against me. The thoughts and feelings we’d shared there had
been real after all.
Dare I hope that I could have Piper and Sherlock4Love? Fuck me,
how’d I miss that she’s the total package? She’s a naughty-talking,
Sherlock-loving, sweetly-curved, English-teaching goddess. Piper is
Sherlock4Love. I have to keep reminding myself because in my head,
they are still separate people. But put those two together, and I think I
may have found what could be the love of my life.
Frank’s fist slams into my cheek. I reel backward several steps,
shaking my head. Damn, that hurt. Totally my fault, too. Here I am,
pondering all aspects of my potential relationship with Piper, when I
should be doing my damn job and paying attention to Frank. I deserve
to take one to the face.
“Shit, Damon. I’m so sorry.” Frank winces as his eyes are drawn to
the side of my face where he just hit me.
I blow out a quick breath, trying to get my head back on straight. I
hadn’t even tried to defend myself. I work my jaw around until I’m
convinced I’m okay. “Not your fault. My focus slipped. Good lesson for
you to see learned.” I chuckle. “Again. Seems like I keep trying to point
this one out to you. Awfully generous of me to keep taking hits to teach
you something.”
“I can totally work with the bag if you need to be somewhere else,
man.”
I shake my head. “No, we’ll finish. Just call me out if you see me not
with you again, would you? I don’t need a fist to the face twice in one
night. You’ve got some heavy hands.”
And so Frank and I circle each other, going right back to sparring. I
struggle through about ten more minutes before my mind starts to
wander. I can’t even help myself. If everything Piper said was true,
there’s just one thing that’s standing between us. It’s the same thing that
has always been there—the job.
I know what I need to do.
C HA PTER 2 9
 PIPE R

I’m a bundle of anxious anticipation. I look back over our earlier

conversation via Tryst, wondering what exactly Damon, aka Prof.M., has
to say to me.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I’ve been doing some thinking.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: So much so that Frank nailed my cheek.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Ouch. I have ice here.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Don’t worry, it’s not the first punch I’ve
taken to the face.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Well, I know that. I witnessed another one.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Right. I’ve been distracted by the same
person. Twice. Thanks for that.
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Oopsie.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Quit being cute and send me your address,
would you?
Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: 870 Shady Grove Lane, Apt 2.
Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Be there in twenty.
I’m nervous. Anxious. A little overwrought wondering how this is all
going to go down this evening. Biting my lip, I open my text messages.
I’d been filling the girls in all week on how crappy things were and
how badly I’d messed up by not being up-front the second I’d seen
Damon at the restaurant. But what can I say? He’d started pushing my
buttons like he always does. It seems what I’d actually witnessed was a
very jealous Damon, hurt when he’d thought I was dating someone else.
I’d be more irritated about how irrational that jealousy had been, only
I’d felt it, too, realizing he thought he was meeting someone else. Not
that I had any claim to him at all; we’d only shared a few kisses and
some growing feelings. Ugh. What a mess.
I tap out a quick message to my girls and am relieved by their quick
responses.

Me: Things are finally turning around. Damon and I sort of … spoke
earlier.
Quinn: You “spoke”? <snort>
Me: Well, yeah. I finally got him to listen. He’s been thinking awful
things about me all week.
Zoey: This is what happens when people don’t communicate.
Hadleigh: Um, I think there was at least some form of communication
going on earlier in the supply closet.
Me: OMG.
Hadleigh: So, I was right! That’s fucking stellar. I’m so happy for you.
Madison: Holy crap, did you …?
Me: No! Not that. But things happened. OMG this is embarrassing.
Sophia: So, what’s going on now?
Me: He’s on his way over here. He had to practice with Frank so we
didn’t get to finish talking. We’d have finished talking earlier, but our
lips kept getting in the way.
Quinn: Well, there’s nothing wrong with that. At least you’re on the
same page there.
 A quiet but firm knock sounds at the door.

Me: OMG, he’s here.

Sophia: Good luck!
That’s the last thing I have a chance to read before another knock
sounds. I pause to calm my racing heart before I answer the door. It’s
okay. You can do this. You can talk to him. Tell him everything. He is
still just Damon.
Damon who’d kissed me senseless and had his hand in my panties
in the middle of the school day, turning me into a wanton puddle of
need. So yeah. Just Damon.
I take in a ragged breath as I open the door and set eyes on him.
His hair is still damp from the shower, and he has on a pair of dark
jeans and a simple black T-shirt that stretches to fit over his broad chest.
A low-level buzz fills my ears and my mouth waters. My gaze meets his
and without thinking about it, my only real worry comes spilling to the
forefront and rushes right from my lips. “Please don’t be disappointed
that I’m her.”
In one step, he’s slammed the door shut behind him and is in my
space, his face inches from mine. He’s close enough that my skin is
warmed by the heat radiating off of him. We stare into each other’s eyes,
and I couldn’t have looked away if I’d wanted to. He grits out, “Never.”
I blink, and his lips crash over mine, firm and unrelenting. All at
once, I’m in his arms. The freshly showered scent coming off him whips
me into such a frenzy, my mind goes haywire. I grab at his shoulders,
pulling him to me, hanging onto him tightly, anything to bring him
closer. His tongue strokes mine, and a blistering fire burns its way
through my veins, the sensation zooming straight down my spine to my
core. His tongue licks mine with heat and passion like I’ve never known
before. My heart beats wildly inside my chest, looking for an opportunity
to break free—to join his in a chaotic, rhythmic dance. Damon is all-
consuming, burning me up from the inside out.
Our hands roam and begin to claw at our clothing. Impatient, he
shrugs out of his coat, taking only a second before his hands dive into
my hair to pull me in for another savage kiss. I’ve never felt like this in
my whole life. I’m going up in flames.
He grips the hem of my blouse and pulls it over my head, then
yanks his shirt off, too. We come back together, hands squeezing,
touching, needing to feel all of each other. Before I know it, somehow,
we’re on my living room floor. Damon unzips my boots and pulls them
from my feet at the same time I begin to slide my skirt down over my
hips.
“Let me.” His fingers hook onto the waistband, pulling it down and
off in one smooth motion. Once he’s tossed my skirt over his shoulder,
he kneels and his mouth immediately begins to savor every square inch
of flesh he can find. The cups of my bra get yanked down, freeing my
breasts, and his hot mouth descends on one, his tongue sliding over my
nipple before he sucks it into a peak. While his mouth worships one
breast, his hand has claimed the other, kneading my flesh and
tormenting my nipple with the rough skin of his palm. I throw back my
head as his demanding mouth switches to the other breast. The wetness
of his tongue on my nipple sends a fresh jolt of arousal between my
legs.
I can’t hold back my moan as Damon lowers his body to mine,
letting me feel his arousal against my center. My hips move
involuntarily, grinding against his jeans-covered erection. Oh my God,
Damon’s got a big C-O-C-K. I almost laugh to myself, my disbelief
warring with my refusal to think right now. I reach down and make
quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans, pushing them down
over the most muscular ass I’ve ever had my hands on.
Oh, shit. My hands are on his bare ass. His boxers must be
somewhere down there around his knees with his jeans. My breath
comes fast as his long, hard length teases my lady parts through my
panties. I whimper somewhere in the back of my throat.
Damon nips his way down my torso, rearing back on his knees
before he grasps my panties and slips them down, baring me to him. I
don’t know what has come over me, but nothing has ever felt so right
as this. I’m not embarrassed, I’m not nervous, and I want to be his in
the worst way.
He helps me as I kick the panties off, and then he’s back to kissing
me with such intensity I’m half out of my mind. I can’t think. I don’t
want to think. I only want to feel. I just want this man. I want him. I
grip the back of his neck and kiss him until we are both senseless with
it, drugged by it. I reach between us, take him in my hand, and stroke
the silky soft skin over steel a few times before I guide him to my
entrance.
He groans and clasps my chin in his hand, kissing me breathless. As
he drags his lips away, he rasps, “Is this what you want, Piper?”
My hips move against him, his cock sliding against my wet flesh.
“Yes.” That one word comes out strangled, a desperate plea.
Damon drives into me in one powerful stroke. There are no pretenses.
And it’s everything I’ve always wanted. He’s taking me. Fucking me.
Claiming me.
And he’s driving me out of my mind with every thrust of his cock.
He’s so deep inside of me, I don’t know how I’m handling it, but all I
want is more, so I meet him stroke for stroke, needing to feel his
possession. With every kiss, every touch, he’s making me his. Oh God,
I’m his.
 Ripples of pleasure roll through me as an orgasm hits out of
nowhere. My head falls back and my lips part on a satisfied moan. He
stills, content to drop open-mouthed kisses along my neck as I lie
beneath him, enjoying the heady sensation of his weight on top of me
and his cock inside me.
Damn, that was good.
It takes me a few seconds to gather my wits. When I do, Damon
pulls out of me, kneeling. I’m momentarily stunned, but then his lips
coast down over my body, nipping and kissing everywhere he goes. My
breath catches in my throat as I realize where he’s heading. I must be
having one of those out-of-body moments because I would never in a
million years have dreamed I’d say the words that tumble from my
mouth. “Damon, I want you to taste me.”
He growls, “I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole fucking
life,” right before his mouth begins to feast on my sex. He’s everywhere
at once, hands holding my thighs wide, lips nibbling at sensitive skin,
tongue finding my clit. My back bows off the floor, heat flooding my
face at the sight of Damon fucking me with his tongue.
Tears trickle out the corners of my eyes as my body comes absolutely
undone by this man and the way he’s making me feel. My legs start to
twitch and shake as an elusive orgasm looms on the horizon. His hand
coasts from my thigh to my clit, his thumb rubbing and applying
pressure.
“Oh, fuck.” Wave after wave crashes over me, my hips gyrating out
of my control. “I’m coming. I’m coming.” I pant as the rush of sensations
continue to course through my body.
I’ve barely come down when Damon enters me again, seating himself
to the hilt inside of me. My inner muscles twitch around him, still
feeling the aftereffects of my orgasms.
 My orgasms. I. Had. Multiple. Orgasms. That’s never happened to me
before.
His lips are all over my neck, his tongue licking along it as his hot
breath teases my skin, and he groans, low and long, in the back of his
throat. If I’d had any doubts at all whether he was into this, I don’t
any longer. He continues to pump, his dick driving in and out of me at
a maddening pace as he chases his own release. “Piper  …” My name
scrapes out of his throat as his body jerks above me, all the muscles in
his body tense.
For a minute, we lie there on the floor, bodies entwined, and I swear
I can feel my heartbeat in my core, pulsing around him.
He shifts back with a grunt, still inside me, his mouth traveling from
my neck down to my nipple. He sucks hard, his tongue swirling over
the tip, teasing it. “I can’t get enough.”
My poor brain doesn’t know how to think anymore, doesn’t know
how to react to any of this. I can’t speak. All my words are caught up
somewhere in my chest.
He glances up at me and frowns. One tentative hand reaches for my
face, his thumb sliding over the moisture that had run from the corners
of my eyes, down the sides of my face, and into my hair. “Are you
crying?”
I shake my head staring at him. My chest is so tight I can hardly
take a breath.
“Don’t lie to me, Piper.”
A tiny sob bursts forth, and my eyes widen in horror. “I’m sorry,” I
gasp.
He pulls out of me and is on his feet in a flash, stooping down to
pick me up. “Where’s your shower?”
“What?”
 “Your shower. We’re going to clean up, then we’re going to talk
about this.”
I point over his shoulder. “Back that way.”
I don’t even know why I’m crying. From the orgasms I rarely have?
Or because we had sex on my living room floor before we could even
talk?
Or maybe it’s because I feel so much for him, I can’t even express
myself with words.
C H A P T E R 30
 D A M ON

I set Piper down on unsteady feet just outside the shower stall. With a
flick of my hand, I turn on the water and wait for it to warm. When I
turn back to her, she looks at the floor, at the wall, over my shoulder,
anywhere but at me. “Hey. Where are you right now?” My fingers find
her chin and tilt her face up to mine.
She shakes her head, unable to speak yet, and her teeth rake over
her lower lip. She reaches out to touch my chest, and her fingertips slide
over grooves of muscle on my stomach. Tilting her head to the side, she
looks down at where her fingers touch the skin of my rib cage. Finally,
she finds words, but they aren’t what I’m expecting.
“What’s the significance of your tattoo?”
I glance down to where her fingers are tracing over each tiny bird.
“It’s for my family. Each bird stands for one of them.” She nods as I
check the temperature of the water and, finding it nice and hot, usher
her inside the stall. I follow her in, guiding her under the spray and
wetting her hair. There’s an assortment of feminine shampoos,
conditioners, and body washes, so I choose one, pouring it into my palm
and rubbing my hands together before working it through her hair. Her
eyes close and a soft smile tugs at her lips.
 Once we’ve rinsed and conditioned her long mane, she returns the
favor. Her fingers on my scalp, massaging my head, feel damn good. But
it could also easily be the fact that her breasts are brushing up against
my chest that’s making me hard again. We squeeze shower gel into our
palms and run our hands over each other, lathering and rinsing every
inch. I want to touch her fucking everywhere. My hands run down over
her back and cup her ass as I hold her against me, then I turn her
around running my palms over her breasts. I had my mouth all over
those not ten minutes ago. I groan, my lips brushing the shell of her ear,
“Piper, baby  …” My wet hands roam down over her belly before one
dives between her legs. She cries out as I slide two fingers inside of her,
the sound reverberating off the walls of the shower stall.
She’s warm. She’s wet. She’s mine.
I walk us forward a step, and her hands meet the wall of the
shower. I continue to slide my fingers in and out of her and find her
clit with my thumb. I curl around her, holding her back tight against
my chest. My dick is so damn hard, and I’m desperate to bury myself in
her right the fuck now, but I love the way she’s panting and quaking
in my arms. I want to give her another few seconds to come apart in
my hands.
As if thinking about it could call it forth, she slows, teetering on the
edge, then falls over it, her muscles clamping down in a rhythmic
pattern on my fingers as she lets loose a throaty moan. Holding her
body up with one arm wrapped around her waist, I slide my cock
against her, nudging the aroused flesh between her legs. When she
pushes her hips back and angles herself toward me, I enter her fully.
“Oh, fuck. I didn’t think it could get better than that first time.” I pull
back and then ease inside again. I screw her slowly, grinding into her
until we are both panting and straining toward each other with every
firm thrust. I grip her curvy hips in my hands, fingers flexing into her
skin, and power into her.
“Yes!”
Hearing her moans of pleasure, watching my cock slip in and out of
her body, and the fucking phenomenal view of her ass has me close to
coming right there. Her wet hands squeak against the wall of the
shower as she tries to hold herself up. I growl deep in my chest. “Fuck,
baby …” My chest heaves as I stave off the explosion I know is coming. I
can’t believe this is Piper rocking back onto my dick, gasping. This
woman is blowing my mind, her every cry seeping right into my soul.
She looks over her shoulder. “I’m so close. Harder.” I stroke inside of
her twice more before she says, “Please?”
On a half-chuckle at her request, I grip her hips tighter and give her
what she wants. No more than thirty seconds later, she climaxes again. I
hold her up as best I can, as she’s gone half limp. When she calms, I
spin her around, pick her up, and press her back to the wall. She wraps
her legs around my waist as I bury myself deep, pumping into her only
three times before lightning races down my spine and my balls tighten. I
explode inside her, crying out her name, my lips against her neck.
Once we’ve washed again, we take our time drying each other and
wrap ourselves in fluffy towels. I lean back against the counter, crossing
my legs at the ankle, observing Piper as she combs through her long
hair.
“Are you okay, Piper? I promise I hadn’t intended for that to happen
in the shower. But I guess I should have expected it.”
A smile blooms bold and beautiful on her face. “We seem to have
issues any time lips and tongues and bodies are involved.”
“I don’t see any issues with that at all.” I shake my head, watching
her.
 Her eyes sparkle with joy as she looks up at me. “Me neither,
Professor.”
I chuckle and point at the tub. “I’m guessing that’s the tub you were
in when you took the photo.”
Her cheeks redden, and damn, she looks so gorgeous all flushed like
that. “Yep.” She sucks her lower lip into her mouth as she continues to
tend to her hair. After another few seconds, she glances up and releases
her lip. “You want to know how I knew it was you?”
I cock my head to the side, my eyes traveling from her towel-covered
body down to her legs. This woman is a fucking vision. I clear my
throat and run my hand over my stubble-coated cheek. “Yeah. Tell me
how you figured it out, Sherlock.”
Her nose wrinkles at the nickname, and her gaze slides down my
torso and over to the side. “I figured it out the evening before I met you
at the restaurant. I truly hadn’t known for long—just a day—and it took
me the whole twenty-four hours to decide whether I should still meet
you there that night or not. I was an agonized mess.” She nods in the
direction of my side. “The tattoo. It was in the shot you sent me. I’d, uh,
noticed it before at the gym.” She fights back a smile, as if she’s
embarrassed to have to admit she’d been looking at my body that closely.
I laugh, fully realizing my error. “Oh, shit. I wasn’t even thinking
about that when I took the photo and sent it. Of course, I was under
the assumption that I was sending it to someone I didn’t know, so it
never crossed my mind to worry about it.” I frown. “I’m sorry I made
assumptions, and”—I grimace, running my hand over my still damp hair
—“I’m ashamed to say I jumped to conclusions.”
She gets up off the tub, one hand holding her towel in place, and
crosses the bathroom until she’s standing in front of me. “I was so sad
when you reacted like that, but I knew it was a possibility.” Her gaze
drops, and she stutters, “And I—I knew you might not want it to be me.
After all, you were talking to both of us at the same time.”
I tuck a knuckle under her chin, lifting her face to me. “I don’t
want you to question what I’m feeling. Yes, I was talking to
Sherlock4Love. But that started before I realized my feelings for you were
changing. Growing. I think I’ve been slowly falling for your brilliant
mind and fiery tongue since the beginning of the year.”
Her eyes soften and become wet with unshed tears.
“Anyway, I hope—I hope you aren’t disappointed. I hate that you
thought for even a second I would be. Here you thought you were
meeting  … I don’t even know who you envisioned me to be. But you
obviously didn’t think you were getting your coworker when we
planned to meet. So, the real question is why you showed up anyway,
even after you knew it was me?”
Please tell me you like me and want me no matter what. Please. I
feel anxious for her answer in a way that is completely unfamiliar to me.
Why does her answer feel so huge? So monumental?
She gives me a confused smile. “These last few weeks have been both
the best and worst weeks of my life. I’ve had steadily emerging feelings
for who I thought were two different men. I’ve never been more shaken,
but at the same time, I was excited. I couldn’t quite believe that I’d had
no one, and then I was going to have to choose between two of you. I
had no idea what to do. When I agreed to meet Professor M., I was
hoping that we wouldn’t click in person. I was terrified we would …
because there was also this other guy, who I get to see every day and
whose kisses make me lose my grasp on reality.”
With a gentle tug, I pull her closer to me, then brush a kiss across
her lips. “I could tell just by talking to you that we had amazing
chemistry—and I have to laugh, but my sister, Esme, actually called it
correctly, I’m afraid.”
 “What do you mean?”
“She kept referring to our arguments as some sort of elaborate
foreplay.” I chuckle. “Don’t tell her she was right. She’ll get a big head
about it.”
She stifles a giggle, but goes right back to her serious face. “You’re
very distracting. I still have things to say.”
“Then say them. Tell me everything.”
She wrinkles her nose, gripping my hips with her hands. “You know,
at first I was relieved it was you and I was only dealing with one
person. But then I was terrified you’d been kissing me, but talking to her
—which, coincidentally, was also me—and I—” She stops, shaking her
head.
“You said it earlier. You were afraid of disappointing me.” I take her
head between my hands, kissing her soft and slow until she relaxes. My
voice is husky as the words are torn straight out of my heart. “Baby,
you’d never disappoint me. Never.”
“You are both of my fantasies rolled into one, Damon.” She eases
back to look into my eyes. “I’ve never been so happy.”
As I hug her trembling body to me, I know I’ve made the right
decision. I just hope Piper sees it the same way.
C H A P T E R 31
 PIPE R

“Piper, baby.” A gruff voice near my ear startles me awake. I freeze,

terrified. “Piper.” Warm, minty breath drifts over my face. I immediately
calm. Damon.
My eyes flicker open to find him kneeling on the bed next to me.
“Good morning.” My voice is scratchy and thick with sleep.
“I’m going to head out. I don’t want to show up to work in jeans.”
He kisses my cheek. “I thought I’d run home and shower, then see you
at work.”
I smile sleepily at him. “Okay.” I still can’t believe the odd twist of
fate—or maybe it was Tryst—that brought Damon to me twice. “Is this
real life?”
“Do you want it to be?”
“I do,” I murmur. I freeze, cringing a little. That sounded kind of
like taking a wedding vow.
Damon chuckles next to my ear, reading my mind perfectly. “Might
be a little soon to head to the altar, Sherlock, but maybe we could get
there someday.”
I freeze again. Eyes blink. Heart races. “It’s not fair to mess with a
woman who is only half-awake.”
 “I don’t play games even though I called myself Professor M. Piper,
I’m not a fan of leading people on. Someday, sweetheart.” He kisses my
temple and climbs off the bed. “I’ll see you at school.”

Someday. I’m way up somewhere on cloud nine. I swear, I’ve just half-
floated through getting ready for the day and all the way to school. In
the office, I grab a stack of papers out of my mailbox, turn to wave a
cheery good morning to the secretaries, and hum my way right out the
door and down the hallway.
My thoughts race right back to Damon, who is by far the most
amazing lover I’ve ever had. For the first time in my life, I’d lost count
of the orgasms. Just remembering every moment with him has my heart
pounding fast behind my rib cage. I won’t be able to look at my shower
or—holy shit—my living room floor without a swift rush of memories
assailing me.
I duck into the library to find my whole tribe gathered around
Madison’s desk, whispering away to each other. “Did I miss the memo?”
Five heads turn at once, eyes lighting up.
Zoey rushes to me first, putting an arm around me and guiding me
to their little circle. “Well, we kept texting last night, but we never heard
back from you, so we gave up and planned to meet this morning.”
Sophia eyes me with a smirk. “I’m guessing she hasn’t looked at her
phone.”
“Like, at all.” Madison grins big.
“Were you busy getting busy last night? Please say yes!” Hadleigh
nods her head, as if willing me to agree with her.
“What? I missed text messages? I just randomly came in here on my
way past.” I glance at my phone to see thirty plus text notifications. “Oh.
I guess I was kind of preoccupied.” A bubble of laughter works its way
up from my belly. “Sorry.” I cover my mouth with my hand.
Quinn snickers. “You dirty girl, don’t be sorry. We kind of thought
maybe, but then we knew there were a few stumbling blocks and we
weren’t sure.”
“For all we knew, you were fighting, biting each other’s heads off.”
Sophia shrugs with a broad grin.
“No. I’m just … I’m just—”
“She’s dickstruck, ladies. Our genius friend can’t even get a sentence
out properly.” Hadleigh giggle-snorts.
My mouth drops open.
Quinn points a finger at me. “Nope. Don’t even try to deny that one.
I think Hadleigh is spot on.”
“I won’t deny it. He was amazing last night. He is amazing.”
“Piper, what’s this?” Zoey picks up the top paper on my stack of
mail.
“I hadn’t looked yet. I’ve been in a bit of a daze. Why? What does it
say?”
“It looks like you’ve been called into a meeting tomorrow afternoon
with Principal Smith.”
My eyes widen. “I wonder what that’s all about.”
“Well, surely, it’s the decision on the department chair position,
right?”
I give a swift shake to my head. “It can’t be.”
C H A P T E R 32
 D A M ON

This day has gone on forever. I can’t wait to pull Piper into my arms
and do all the absolutely inappropriate things to her that I’ve been
thinking of all day. But first, I want to take her home with me—as in
home to my family. Because, yes, I’m that sure.
“You really want me to meet the rest of your family?” She takes my
hand when I offer it as we walk to our vehicles.
I give a firm nod. “Yes. I absolutely do.”
“It’s not too soon?” Her face is full of anxious hope as she gazes up
at me.
If Elena is any indication, the minute she meets the rest of my
family, they will love her. Elena had been so mad at me the other day
when I’d just assumed Piper had to be fucking with me on Tryst. I’ll
never forget the look on Elena’s face when she came to Piper’s defense.
She’d been angry and insistent that Ms. Mathison is not a liar. That
she’s a good person—the best kind of person. I suck in a breath. Piper’s
the kind I want to grab onto and never let go of. I’m pretty sure my
whole family will be excited for both of us.
We take both vehicles back to Piper’s complex first. She dashes into
her apartment and comes out with an overnight bag and climbs eagerly
into my Pathfinder. We’d decided earlier that after we’ve had dinner
with my family, she’ll come back to my place. I take her hand as we
drive back across town to my family’s home. Now that I have her, I find
I don’t want to be without her touch, not for a damn minute.
At the door, I stop, turning her to face me. I don’t want to go in
there without making it very clear to her just why I asked her to come
with me.
Our gazes connect.
“You’re freaking me out. Is something wrong?”
“Not at all.” I want her to look at me, to really see me, to really hear
what I’m saying. I lift a hand to her cheek, caressing her skin with my
thumb. “I need to say this to you, and I want to do it before we go in
and you’re immediately surrounded by my family.”
She wrinkles her nose. “So, should I assume your other sisters are
somewhat like Elena? Your mother, too?”
I chuckle. “Yep. They’re going to be all over you the second we walk
in there, and I doubt I’ll have another chance to say this.” I pause. “And
it’s really something I feel like you need to hear.”
“Oh. Okay. Go ahead then, Professor. No secrets between us.”
I wince, knowing I am keeping something from her. Shoving that to
the back of my mind, I take both of her hands. “What you said to me?
About my dad being proud of what I’ve done for my family? I”—I
glance down where our hands are joined—“don’t bring women home to
see this part of my world unless I’m absolutely sure of them. I want to
make sure you understand I don’t have any further questions as to what
we are to each other.” I gaze into her eyes. “And I hope bringing you
here today drives that home for you.”
She worries her lip and looks off to the side for a second before
returning her gaze to mine. “You understand that not having you meet
my parents yet doesn’t mean anything about how I feel about you,
right?”
 “You have a very different relationship with them than I have with
my family. It’s okay.” I lean in and kiss her. My initial intention is just
to reassure her, but then, as is quickly becoming our habit, lips crush,
teeth nip, and tongues stroke until we are in full-on make-out mode on
the front steps of my family’s home. I can’t get enough of her. I will
never get enough.
“Well, well, well. I see I was right.” Esme grins broadly at us from
the open doorway before shouting over her shoulder. “Bella! We were
totally right!”
Piper hides her face against my chest for a second, and from the
way her shoulders are shaking, I think she’s trying to smother her
laughter. She pulls away from me and grins. “Come on, Damon. Let’s see
what else lies in store for us here.” She grabs my hand and walks right
through the door, addressing my sister. “You must be Esme.”
She nods. “That’s me.” From the far side of the house, Arabella
barrels down the stairs, Elena hot on her heels. Esme points over her
shoulder. “And that’s Arabella, and you know Elena.”
Piper grins. “I hear I have you to thank for getting Damon set up on
Tryst, Arabella.” She drops my hand as she walks ahead of me,
immediately taken in and surrounded by my sisters.
“Ms. Mathison, do I have to call you Ms. Mathison here?”
Piper looks fondly at Elena. “No, sweetie, you can call me Piper. Just
not at school, okay? How’s Fahrenheit 451 going for you? You know
once we finish that, I think I can twist your brother’s arm and get him
to loan us the books his class has been reading.” She winks at her
conspiratorially.
I groan inwardly, but love that it’s going so well. I can already tell
this is going to be very dangerous. Just as I’d assumed, Piper and my
sisters are like four peas in a pod. It’s almost as if she’s always been a
part of our family, and they’ve just been waiting for her.
 Upon entering the kitchen, I find that Piper has already introduced
herself to my mother and they are chatting away as if they’ve known
each other forever. My heart squeezes in my chest so hard I have to put
my hand over it to keep it from blasting straight through my ribcage.
I just hope she’s okay with what I spoke to Jake about yesterday. If
it comes between us, I’ll never forgive myself. And now I don’t know if
my family will forgive me either.
Bubbling laughter catches my attention. “I was afraid to ask, but
with your children’s names—well, at first I thought you might have a
thing for vampire books, but then it dawned on me it had to be a crazy
coincidence because the books came out after your kids were born.”
Iris laughs. “We get this all the time, but no, I just happened to
choose those names. I do like Twilight and The Vampire Diaries,
though.”
Ah, great. I knew it was too much to hope that Piper wouldn’t pick
up on that—no woman I’ve dated before has—but I’ve noticed she reads
literally every genre you can think of, so it’s no stretch to imagine she
reads paranormal romance.
Piper turns back to me, excitedly. “What did you do with my bag?”
My brows raise, but I say nothing and just go retrieve it from the
chair I’d set it on when Esme had whisked her away earlier.
I come back with it, and both Piper and my mother look excited. I’m
somewhat terrified. I chuckle, handing it to her.
“Thank you.” She digs into her bag and pulls out a book.
I snort. “You have a book with you?”
“Always.” She turns it so my mom can see it. “Have you read it yet,
Mrs. Madero?”
“Please, call me Iris. And, no. I’ve been meaning to get it, but I
haven’t had a chance. It’s been out a couple of years now, right?
 I tune out. Well, I guess I didn’t have anything to worry about with
Piper and my family. They’ve welcomed her with open arms, and she
seems to be very happy within their embrace.

Hours later, Piper and I arrive at my townhome, which is located just

down the road. We scramble out of the Pathfinder and into the house.
After getting caught kissing on the front steps, we’d tried to behave
ourselves, but our hands had wandered to each other most of the
evening. Even just a casual touch made me burn. At dinner, I’d found
her hand on my thigh more than once, fingers squeezing, testing me.
Then she’d slyly look over and wink. The little vixen had spent the
entire evening like that. And now I’m going to exact some revenge.
“Do I get a tour?”
“Nope. No, you don’t. Maybe later. The only thing I plan on you
checking out is my bed.”
Her eyes light up. “I was hoping you caught on to my signals
earlier.”
“They were loud and clear. Don’t have to be Sherlock to figure that
out.” I lower my lips to hers right before I wrap my arms around her,
one at her waist and the other at her ass, and pick her up. She squeals
and giggles as I carry her down the hallway and into my bedroom
where I climb onto the bed, straddling her. She grins up at me, and I
swear I see her heart right there in her eyes. The emotion coming from
her is so pure, so powerful, I could easily find myself engulfed in it and
not care if I ever made it out again. I want to live in these moments
with her for my whole life. I’m hit with the realization that she’s it for
me. Now to make her see.
 I tease her mercilessly, just as she’d done to me all evening. Only
now, in the privacy of my bedroom, the teasing is much more satisfying
for both of us. With our clothes discarded, I take my time. I swear, my
tongue touches her everywhere I can reach, learning, discovering what
makes her giggle, what makes her sigh, and what makes her moan. She
wriggles beneath me, pushing the hard peaks of her nipples against my
chest as I devour her mouth again. I love the way she moves, the way
she tastes … I love her.
She whispers near my ear, “Damon, touch me. I’m so ready for you.”
I reach between us to feel her sweet pussy is indeed wet and waiting
for me. I push two fingers inside, pumping slowly, stroking the front
wall of ridged muscle, and making her gasp. Shifting back, I take my
cock in hand, giving it a few firm strokes. I play with her some more,
sliding the head through her wetness. So close, yet way too far away.
I’m done torturing both of us. I gather her in my arms and plunge into
her warmth. I become still, savoring the moment. The connection we
have is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. She’s everything I could ever
want and a million things I never knew I needed. She’s the answer I’ve
been searching for all my life.
And then I begin to move, and we lose all control. Piper at school
can be somewhat formal and demure. Piper in the bedroom is a whole
different story. I roll onto my back, letting her ride me. Watching her
every move, the way she grinds down on me, those glorious hips
undulating, it’s just masterful. Fuck. I’ll never get enough.
She moans, moving faster, and I know she’s getting close. Her fingers
clench at my abs, and I’m sure there will be little marks there tomorrow
to remind me. “You’re so gorgeous, Piper,” I exhale on a ragged groan. I
grip her hips and help her rock against me. She grabs her breasts,
pinching her nipples, and fuck me, the sight of that alone is almost
enough to make me come. Oh, fuck.
 Piper continues to slide along my length, my dick entering her
rhythmically, in and out. In and out. Over and over until I think I may
lose my mind.
She catches the strained look on my face, then her hand slowly
makes its way from her breast down, down, down, until she’s touching
herself, touching me, and I go off like a canon. She smiles like the little
imp that she is and continues to move against me, fingers moving fast
against her clit while I watch.
I swear, if she keeps it up, I’ll be fully hard again in no time flat.
“That’s it, Piper. Grind down on my dick, baby. Come for me.”
And she does, in magnificent, astounding, fucking-fantastic fashion.
Her body practically convulses with it, and I swear the neighbors on
both sides probably heard her scream my name.
Neither of us seems to have any desire to move after that. Piper falls
asleep on my chest with my fingers stroking gently down her back, my
cock still inside of her. All I can do is smile contentedly and hold her.
Against her temple, I whisper, “I’m in love with you, Piper.”
Saying it out loud while she’s sleeping is one thing; figuring out
how to tell her when she’s not in an orgasm-induced sleep is another.
C H A P T E R 33
 PIPE R

Well, who knows what on earth this is all about. The day had crawled
by as I’d alternated between giddy happiness every time Damon’s eyes
met mine with a secret look just for me and anxious nervousness when
I’d looked ahead to this afternoon’s meeting.
I’ve decided to go straight to the office, bypassing our workroom. I’ll
share whatever this is all about with Damon as soon as I get done. One
of the things we’d agreed on was no secrets between us. Nothing but
honesty and trust. It’d been an easy pact to make with him, with the
singular exception of one tiny thing I haven’t let him know about yet. I
think he’ll be happy about it—at least, I should hope so. It’s what he’s
wanted.
Oh. And we’ll definitely be deactivating our Tryst accounts. No need
for that when I work one desk over from Prof.M. every day. That
thought alone makes me smile.
I’m still grinning when I walk into the office. I get the main
secretary’s attention and point back toward the administrative hallway. “I
have a meeting with Principal Smith.”
“Go on back, honey, they’re all waiting for you.”
My eyes shift toward the principal’s office, then back to the secretary.
A tiny crease works its way between my brows, but I clam up and don’t
say anything. They’re all waiting?
They’re all waiting makes me feel like someone else is in the meeting,
too. My teeth worry my lip all the way back to the closed door and I
have no idea what or who is waiting for me behind it. I give a quick
rap to it and wait.
“Come in.”
I open the door and peek inside to find Mrs. Smith, Jake, and much
to my surprise, Damon. When my eyes land on him, I know my
confusion is clear as a bell on my face and it makes me hesitate in the
doorway. “Sorry, am I here at the right time?”
“Yes, of course, Ms. Mathison. Have a seat.” She gestures to the lone
empty seat in the room. As I walk toward it, both Jake and Damon
stand, waiting for me to have a seat before they return to theirs. “Okay,
we can get started, then. Mr. Madero, Ms. Mathison—Mr. Jones has
brought it to my attention that you’ve both decided against the
department chair position.”
I blink. I can’t have heard that right. Damon backed out? “I’m sorry,
did you just say we both decided against it?”
Damon groans and gives a low chuckle. “I can’t believe this.”
Mrs. Smith looks back and forth between us. “I’m sorry, did I
misunderstand?”
Jake shakes his head. “No, that’s the request they both made last
week. I’ve been scratching my head over it for days now, but I didn’t
think it was fair to put pressure on either of them. I wasn’t sure what
was behind their decisions.” Jake shrugs, then laces his hands together,
resting them on his stomach as he sits back in his chair.
“Well. Obviously, with neither of you wanting the position, that puts
us in a bind. Kent Burgess and his wife have a new baby at home, and
he isn’t in a position to make the commitment at this time. We can’t in
good conscience put the new hire replacing Jake in the position to head
up the department.” She shrewdly looks between the two of us. “What if
we were to offer it as a split position? Would you consider being co-
department chairs?”
I press my lips together and shut my eyes for a second. When I open
them, Damon’s eyes are on me.
“What do you think, Ms. Mathison? Would we be able to work well
enough together?”
I swallow. “I don’t know, Mr. Madero. Do you think we could?”
Jake laughs. “Like I told Mrs. Smith, you argue more than any pair
I’ve ever seen, but you also get things done. Seriously, you are two of
the smartest, hardest-working, most forward-thinking people I’ve come
across in a long, long time. When you both backed out, I hadn’t yet
made a decision. I have no clue who I would have ended up choosing.
You’d both do a fine job, but—”
Damon leans forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his thighs
as he addresses Mrs. Smith. “Would Ms. Mathison and I be able to have
just a moment to talk this over?”
“Certainly. The conference room is open.”
He stands and holds a hand out to help me up. I gaze into his eyes,
drowning in what I see there. Adoration. My heart pumps double-time as
I take his hand and stand, allowing him to usher me out of the office
and next door.
Damon opens the door to the conference room and waves me in first,
then shuts it behind us. He leans back against the door, arms crossed,
and I just know he’s waiting for me to say something. I settle my hands
on my hips, my lower lip caught between my teeth. For a few seconds,
our gazes connect, openly challenging the other to say something.
Finally, it seems Damon can’t stand it anymore. He steps forward,
yanking me against him, and kisses me hard. His hands cradle my head,
holding me where he wants me as his masculine lips move over mine. I
make a little noise in the back of my throat. I’m desperate to show him
the depth of my feelings for him. I want him to understand I’d do
anything, give up anything for him. I need him to know I will do
whatever it takes to make this work between us, so long as I can have
him for my own.
Does the fact that he’s let the position go mean what I think it does?
Was he willing to give up the job to save our budding relationship? To
give us a fair shot?
In my mind, at the end of the day, I don’t care anything about
getting the promotion if it takes him from me. But I have to know. I
want to know what he was thinking, what his thought process was. As
we break the kiss, he stamps another on my lips before he sets me away
from him, like he can’t think straight if he’s touching me. Same, buddy.
Same. We both take deep breaths, chests rising and falling rapidly.
He rasps, “Why’d you do that, Piper?”
My brows raise. “I could ask the same of you.”
He studies my features as if I’m precious to him. His throat works
visibly to swallow. “You want that position, Piper. You’ve worked hard
for it. I wanted you to have it. You’re the kind of department head we
need right now. You’ll do an amazing job, and I didn’t feel it was right
to stand in your way any longer. What were you thinking giving it
up?”
My eyes fill with tears, and I imagine they glitter with all the
emotion I feel for him. “I wanted you to have it. You deserve it. You
need it. And more than anything, I wanted to make sure you were able
to help Elena get to college. You both deserve to make that a reality,
especially after everything you’ve done to help raise her. You are
absolutely selfless when it comes to caring for your family.” I step toward
him. “Not everyone would step up like you did, or like you’ve continued
to do for all of them. I’ve watched how you are with Elena in particular,
and I know how she feels about you. You’re her knight in shining
armor. Her champion. Her defender. Her father figure.” I wet my lips. “I
hate that you lost your father way too soon, and it’s true I didn’t know
him, but I bet your dad would be so damn proud of you, Damon.” My
voice hitches, chin wobbling. “I just know he would be.” I fight not to
cry.
He looks troubled, as if he doesn’t know what to do with any of
this.
I worry my lip again as I stare into his eyes. “You gave up
everything you’d been working toward … for me? I don’t understand. In
the end, for me, it’s just a job. No matter how hard I’ve worked for it.
To you, it’s more.”
He reaches for me, and I step right into his arms, burrowing my
head under his chin. My heart beats rapidly, and he swallows hard and
whispers next to my ear. “Piper, don’t you see? I’d do anything to make
you happy.” He places a kiss on top of my head and inhales deeply.
The enormity of this moment slams into me. Is he saying what I
think he’s saying?
“I would do the same for you, Damon.” I blow out a heavy breath.
“So, what do we tell them?”
“I think we accept their plan for us to share the position. We can
figure the rest out as we go.”
I nod, slowly at first, then with more conviction. “Okay. We’ll do it
together?”
“I think we work well together, don’t you?” He wriggles his brows at
me, making me laugh.
“We are good at more than just the job. I’m looking forward to doing
a thorough investigation, Professor Moriarty.”
“There’s my naughty Sherlock.”
“Am I yours?”
 He takes my head between his hands. “I’m nervous as hell that
you’re not ready to hear this from me.”
Our gazes lock, my eyes still wet. “I’m ready for whatever you have
to say. We may as well put everything out there, don’t you think?”
He clears his throat. “Okay, then.” He takes a calming breath. “Yes,
you’re mine, just as I’m irrevocably yours. It’s an undeniable truth that I
can see now, plain as day.” He pauses to check my reaction, and I try to
play it cool, but I think my lip is trembling. “Piper, somewhere along our
journey I’ve fallen in love with you.” He stops for a few seconds to let
those words sink in and my trembling, traitorous lips part involuntarily.
I didn’t think we were here yet. I mean, I feel it too, but I didn’t
know we were ready for the full-out I love yous—except, holy shit. I am.
I know I am. I want to lean in and kiss him speechless, but it seems he
really does have more to say.
“I fell for different parts of you, separately at first, and I was so torn
thinking I was in love with two women. Thank fuck you were
Sherlock4Love because now I love every piece of you. I love the playful
arguments, the way you go after what you want, your intelligence and
wit, and your Sherlock-loving heart. You made me fall for you twice,
and I can’t imagine a better sign than that. You and me? I think we
were always going to find our way to each other.”
A tear escapes my welling eyes, and he wipes it away with a sweep
of his thumb. “What’s that favorite Sherlock quote of yours?”
I frown, searching my mind for conversations I’d had with Prof.M.,
trying to figure out just what he’s referring to. “You mean the one about
how when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains,
however improbable, must be the truth? That’s not the exact quote, but
that’s the sentiment.”
He smiles. “At first, I kept thinking about how we seemed like an
impossible match. I couldn’t wrap my head around why I kept thinking
about you the way I did. And then I held you, kissed you, and I never
would have thought it, but as improbable as we seem with all of our
arguing, there is truth between us. There is understanding. And there is
love. At least, I think so.”
I can’t hold it in any longer. “Damon, I love you.”
“You do?” He grins and pulls me against his chest.
I nod, soaking in this moment. “I do love you. Especially when we
argue, so don’t stop doing that. It’s actually kind of hot.”
“Well, then let’s hurry and tell Mrs. Smith and Jake our decision, so I
can get you the hell home and argue with you some more. I want to
argue with you every day and burn for you every night.”
“You’d better bring your A game, then, Professor Moriarty.” I smirk
as we turn to leave the conference room.
Before I can open the door, he grips the back of my neck, turning
me to face him and kisses me hard.
“Always, Sherlock. I’m looking forward to facing off with you again
and again.”
E P IL O GU E
 QUIN N

We’re gathered around a table at my mom’s bakery, all talk of our book
selection abandoned in favor of the latest girl gossip. Again. Not that I’m
against that, per se, even if the sci-fi, blue-alien romance had been my
pick. In fact, I seem to be well on my way to instigating some of it.
“So, wait, explain what happened again? You both declined the
position without telling the other?” I laugh inwardly, silently cracking
up that these two people who have wanted the same position for so
damn long both decided they’d rather have each other. Kind of poetic, if
you think about it—and that’s quite the opinion coming from a science
teacher, let me tell ya.
Madison and Zoey both cover their giggles with their hands, but
Sophia and Hadleigh do no such thing, choosing to just let the belly
laughs out.
Piper crosses her arms over her chest and gives us the stink eye.
“Yes. We’re just idiots in love, I guess.”
Well, she just let that one drop, didn’t she? I smirk, waiting for the
others to catch up.
Hadleigh and Sophia both look at each other, mouths dropping open.
Hadleigh lightly slaps at Piper’s arm. “Oh my God, how crazy fast
did the no-pants dance turn into love?”
 I snort, unable to help myself. Hadleigh just kills me. She says all the
stuff I want to say, but manage to keep under wraps. She’s refreshing in
her honesty.
“Pretty fast. Though, to be fair, I think all the fighting and bickering
was some weird dating ritual, or as his sister said—”
“Foreplay.” Sophia grins. “I saw that a mile away.”
Zoey shakes her head. “So, you’re sharing the position? Is that what
it comes down to?”
“Pretty much. We’ll see how it goes. I don’t know what he’ll think
about it, but I’m going to suggest we move in together over the summer
so he can still put the same amount of money toward Elena’s college
savings as he’d planned to if he’d gotten the position.”
Madison grins. “That’s brilliant. Do you think you’re ready for that?”
“We haven’t spent a night apart since we figured things out, so I
don’t see what the difference is, honestly.” Piper shrugs. “Speaking of,
I’ve got to leave soon. I promised him we’d continue our Sherlock
marathon tonight.” She takes a second to pat her hat and gloves,
absentmindedly. They’ve been sitting on the table in front of everyone
this whole time, practically ratting me out.
Sophia frowns. “Wait a sec. Aren’t those the gloves and hat that you
pouted about leaving at the cider mill?”
Piper frowns. “Well, yeah. But Quinn went back that night and got
them for me. She brought them to the last book club meeting.” She
glances in my direction, curiosity sliding across her features. “That
reminds me”—her gaze darts to mine—“when I asked you about going
back to pick them up, you got a really weird look on your face.”
Uh-oh. Shit, shit, shit. How am I going to get out of telling them?
Zoey pokes me. “Oooh, somebody’s keeping something from us. I can
tell by the look on your face, Quinn.”
 Oh, shit. I wet my lips. “Um, yeah. I went back and grabbed Piper’s
things when I saw how upset she was about it.”
Sophia squints her eyes at me. Dammit. She knows me way too well
for this. “I seem to recall you saying something about needing some help
for your dry, dusty lady parts that night …” She drums her fingers on
the table in front of her, assessing my rapidly reddening face, slowly
nodding.
As I look around our circle, all five sets of eyes widen and, all at
once, their mouths drop open in surprise. I’m pretty sure they’ve figured
out I hadn’t only gone back for the gloves and hat.
I’d gone back for Liam.
 SNEAK PEEK

FALL FOR YOU

CHAPTER 1: Quinn

I break off a piece of Mom’s decadent chocolate cupcake and shove it

into my mouth as my friends look at me with wide, assessing eyes. Do
they realize? Have they figured it out? I finish chewing, eyeing each of
my friends, trying to determine whether they think I’ve gone completely
off the deep end. I’m being secretive, which isn’t completely abnormal for
me, but it is when it comes to our little tribe of friends. The looks on
their faces range from surprise to amusement to cautious interest. I lick a
bit of frosting from my lip.
“Okay, fine. I went back that night to see Liam. Piper’s forgotten
gloves and hat were just a convenient excuse.” Oh my God, please don’t
let them ask more questions than that. I’m not used to the focus being
totally on me.
No. Such. Luck. I can already see I’m in for a veritable interrogation
from these ladies.
“And … you like him, Q?” Sophia pauses, bottle of water midway to
her lips, and studies the emotions as they roll across the features of my
face, plain as day. She’s my closest friend in the group, and we also
happen to work side by side in the science department every day. I fully
expect her to be able to read me like a damn road map.
 “I do. He’s really nice.”
Hadleigh makes a pfft sound, tossing aside my choice of descriptors.
“Nice sounds boring. I did not get a boring vibe from him.” She wiggles
her eyebrows. “More like a sexy panther on the prowl, just waiting to be
unleashed by the right woman.” She makes a little roar sound complete
with bared claws.
I give a little giggle-snort and shake my head at her in amused
disbelief. She’s so infamous within our group for her bawdy comments
and sexual innuendo, we now know something is very wrong if she
isn’t right on us with them. Seems like Hadleigh’s doing just fine
tonight. All must be well with her and Sawyer, even though he’s just
wrapped up his student teaching with her and they aren’t seeing each
other as much.
“He’s single?” Zoey sucks in air through her teeth and toys with her
necklace. “Sorry, I always feel like such a bucket of cold water, but
better to ask now than later, right?”
I glance over with a frown at her words. “Oh. Um, I would think
so.” I grimace, realizing she’s put her guidance counselor hat on for this
particular discussion. Then I roll my eyes at myself, also aware that I
don’t want anyone to tell me that what I’m doing is wrong when every
moment has felt so damn right. If nothing else, at least I know myself.
“He’s got to be mid-thirties, wouldn’t you say?” Madison taps her
finger to her lip, thinking. “I mean, he owns the cider mill, right? He’s
not just a manager or something like that, like Shawn is for his bar?”
Her boyfriend runs one of our favorite places to hang out, especially
now that they’ve started doing karaoke on Friday nights.
Sophia nods her head as she sits up straighter in her seat. “I’m
positive. It’s his business. When Heath and I first met him at the grand
opening, he introduced himself as the owner.” She hesitates for a second,
her brows pinching together. “I agree, though. Mid-thirties. And cute as
hell.”
Piper’s brows raise. “Kind of makes you wonder why no one has
snapped him up yet.” At my startled look, she holds up a hand. “Maybe
he’s just been too busy with his career. What did you say he did before
the cider mill? Must have been something pretty lucrative. That, or his
family has a lot of money. One or the other.”
My throat goes dry. With every word dropped from Piper’s lips, I
realize I know next to nothing about Liam. To be fair, I hadn’t shown
up at the mill that night to get to know him. I’d been drawn back by
the look in his eyes. Sounds silly, but it’s true. In my head, I’d imagined
him eating me right up. It’d felt like he’d been talking to everyone at
our table, but at the same time to me and me alone. It’d given me the
sense that we had some sort of chemistry. That something in him called
out to the same something in me.
And Lord help me, that very first night I met him, I’d flirted like my
friends have never seen me do before. Yeah. The laugh was on me there.
Never say never because I totally had gone all in with it. Me, Quinn—
ever responsible, inherent caretaker, faithful steward of our friendship
circle who always puts everyone else first—would never in a million
years have thought I’d get up the nerve to initiate, and then dominate,
the conversation with him. Lucky me, the whole group had noticed. And
I’d plainly admitted to them once he’d walked away to attend to other
customers that I’d be interested in having him give me a hand with
parts that have gone untended in a very long time. So, yeah. Never say
never.
I didn’t mention to anyone but Piper that I’d gone back there—and
I’d only shared that with her because I had actually picked up her left-
behind gloves and hat and needed to return them to her.
 Time for a distraction. “So, what was with this blue alien romance?” I
pick up my iPad Mini and begin to scroll through the book to look at
the About the Author section. “Who thinks this stuff up? I’m curious to
know more about what kind of person writes this stuff.”
Hadleigh gives a loud cackle. “Girl, even a blue alien with two dicks
isn’t enough to sidetrack me from your real-life drama. You’re not fooling
us for one second.” She sends me a sly wink as the rest of the table
bursts out laughing. It takes us a few moments to calm ourselves, and as
we do, I make a valiant attempt to figure out just what to say about the
whole Liam situation. I really don’t know what we are doing, so how
can I begin to explain it to anyone else?
“Okay, okay, is everyone calm now? Can we go back to the Liam
discussion?” Zoey sets her cupcake down and wipes her fingers on her
napkin. “I’m confused. You went back to get the hat and gloves. And?
What happened?”
My gaze follows my mom, Meg, as she goes back into the kitchen
area of the bakery. I wouldn’t care if she were listening, but … I don’t
want to get her hopes up. She’s been fussing at me lately for the lack of
dates on my social calendar. The harping has gotten worse as each of
my friends found a special someone, one after the other. I’ll admit,
watching Sophia and Heath, then Madison and Shawn, Hadleigh and
Sawyer, and now Piper and Damon, all pair off has done a number on
my ego. I guess the most terrifying part is that I feel excited about Liam,
but I can’t tell if he’s the one or just a bit of fun. I don’t often open up
about this kind of personal stuff—the relationship stuff—since it usually
blows up in my face. I can’t tell them things may have gotten more than
a little heated between Liam and me. I mean, I barely know the guy.
Who does stuff like this? Oh, right. That’d be me. A warm blush creeps
across my cheeks.
 Once I’m sure Mom’s out of earshot, I take a deep breath. What
would they think of me if they knew what I’ve been up to? Maybe that
you’re attracted to him? Duh, Quinn.
And then there’s the fact that I just saw him again last night  … I
don’t have a good explanation for why I’d shown up at the cider mill
again. There was no emergency hat and gloves rescue. I hadn’t been able
to stop thinking about him, and before I knew it, I was pulling up in
his parking lot, ten minutes to closing time.
“I like him, I just don’t know if it’s going anywhere.” I shrug. “If
something more happens than that, I’ll share.”
Sophia’s giving me that look that says I know damn well you’re not
telling us everything before giving me a short nod. Changing topics, she
asks, “So, is everyone ready for parent-teacher conferences on Tuesday?”
Ugh. Well, it’s a good deflection, anyway, as everyone takes a second
to groan aloud. I send her a weak smile, and she just raises one brow a
fraction of an inch at me to let me know she’s onto me. 
Yes, yes. I’ll tell you all the sordid details of what’s going on later.
Piper rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “Honestly, conferences are my least
favorite part of teaching. I can’t stand parents who think their kids are
either angels or smarter than everyone else.” 
I hold up a finger, happy to have the conversation moving in a
different direction. “Or worse, they assume we are responsible for bad
behavior.” I shake my head. “I swear, if I ever have kids, I will not be
like that. And I won’t be one of those parents who behaves badly either.
You can hold me to it.” I hold out a finger to Piper for a pinkie swear.
“Ditto.” Piper chuckles as she links fingers with me. “Speaking of
parents behaving badly, I finally told my parents about the co-
department chair decision.”
Sophia’s eyes get wide. “Oh, man. How’d that go?”
 Piper shrugs. “Not great. Damon and I are happy, and that’s all that
matters to me. Of course, my parents reined in their objections about it
with Damon right there with me when I told them in person.” Her
cheeks take on a rosy hue and her eyes go a little dreamy.
“Aw, she really does love him.” If Zoey were an ice cube, she’d have
just melted into a puddle on the floor. 
I smile. “I would have paid to be a fly on the wall for that
conversation.”
“You can say that again.” Madison meets my eyes and laughs behind
her hand. “I imagine they didn’t know what to think when you brought
your co-chair home to them.”
Hadleigh nods, a smirk lighting up her face. “I knew he’d be so
good for you. Damn studly beast of a man.” She cracks up and the rest
of us follow.
A few minutes later, we’re talking more about our upcoming parent-
teacher conference day when Madison holds up a hand to get our
attention. “Hey, how about we order pizza and have it delivered for
lunch on conference day? They are giving us a whole hour and a half
break. I can place the order while you all are finishing up with your
morning conferences. We can meet in the library at one, and I’ll have a
yummy lunch already waiting for you.”
We all nod eagerly and with that decided, Zoey perks up. “It’s my
turn to choose a book for next time. I think you all are going to love
this one.” She gives a little giggle and pulls her e-reader out of her bag.
Still trying not to head into full-fledged laughter, she turns it on and
pulls up the cover of the book. “Falling for the Pterodactyl.”
“What in the name of all that’s holy is that?” Hadleigh shrieks with
laughter. 
Oh my God, I didn’t think it could get worse than the two-dicked
blue lover from outer space.
 Zoey shakes, her body practically convulsing with her mirth. “I—I
don’t know. I found it on Amazon.”
Madison groans. “At this point, I think we are all just trying to
outdo each other with the insanity.”
“Truth.” Sophia waves her hand in front of her face, trying to calm
herself. “Okay, fine. Up next is a little dino lovin’.” She stops to laugh.
“So, where do you want to meet next time?”
Zoey, who is normally so quiet and not at all an instigator, flashes
me a wicked smile. “How about the cider mill?”
Oh yes, let’s. Right back to the scene of my crimes. I’m sure they are
thinking maybe they’ll find out more about what it is I’ve been up to if
we go there. Not that I don’t want to see Liam again. Because I do. He’s
hot and sweet … and oh my gosh. I glance around at the delighted looks
on everyone’s faces, and my face flushes pink. How long have I been
sitting here thinking about him while they’ve been staring at me waiting
for my reaction?
I nod, raking my teeth over my lower lip. “Sounds good.”
Hadleigh grins. “Awesome. I can’t wait to go back to the cider mill
and talk about dino porn.”
We dissolve into another puddle of laughter and that’s how Mom
finds us a full five minutes and several jokes later. Damn, I love these
women.
A L S O B Y A M A N D A B A IL E Y
C H A NGE O F H E A RT S E RIE S

PREQUEL: Meant for Each Other

BOOK 1: The End of Me
BOOK 2: I’ll Wait for You
BOOK 3: Make You Mine
BOOK 4: Stay with Me
BOOK 5: It Was Always You
SPIN-OFF: Steal My Breath
D A RE T O D RE A M S E RIE S

BOOK 1: Tempt Me
BOOK 2: Adore Me
BOOK 3: Kiss Me
BOOK 4: Tease Me
BOOK 5: Love Me
SPIN-OFF: Dare Me
A L S O B Y A M A N D A B A IL E Y
FL IRT ING W IT H FO RE VE R S E RIE S

Book 1: Lost in You

Book 2: Fight for You
Book 3: Burn for You
Book 4: Fall for You
 D E A R RE A D E R

I warned you about the slow burn on this one, did I not? Ha!

I’ll be honest with you. I was scared to write this book, but at the time
really excited. Ready for the challenge of it and the chance to flex my
author muscles a little bit. Did you realize this was the first time I’ve
ever attempted the enemies-to-lovers trope? Weird, right? I know
everyone loves the idea of it, but I knew it would be difficult for me
because my favorite book boyfriends are sweet. Damon couldn’t be all
sweet or this wouldn’t work. So, I made him a little rough around the
edges, willing to pick on Piper, but at the same time, still a softie at
heart.

All that said, I enjoyed writing Damon, I loved the arguments between
him and Piper, and I had a blast watching them fall for each other.

Next up are Quinn and Liam, with a story unlike anything I’ve told
before. I think you’re going to love them.

If I haven’t said it often enough, I am so appreciative of those of you

who are following me on this writing journey and loving my characters
right along with me.

Do you know the best way to let me know you are loving what you are
reading? Reviews. Yep! Whether it’s on Amazon, BookBub, Goodreads, or
elsewhere, reviews count.

So, if you want more of what I’m writing, share with me what you love
about the books!

Find me on these platforms if you want to review:

Amazon
Goodreads
BookBub

Until next time,

XO Amanda XO
 A C K NO W L E D GM E NT S

To Rebecca Kimmel, thanks for hanging in there and making time for
me through some tough times.

To Krista Dapkey , Hamilton NERD. :) J/K thanks for helping me sort

that bit.

To Diana TC, I’m so glad you are so damn good at head swaps.
Thanks for making Damon and Piper come to life for us. :)

To KB, I’m glad I could write Sherlock4Love and Prof.M. up to your

standards. I think it’s so fun that it’s been your favorite yet.

To KN, thanks for being willing to take a peek in advance to catch

some of the little trolls hiding in my manuscript!

To SM, I love how much you love my characters. I truly appreciate all
you do!

And, to my family , as always, you guys are the best. XOXO

 A BOU T THE A U THOR

Amanda Bailey lives in Virginia in her dream home in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. She
enjoys staying home with her two children and husband, watching movies and reality TV, and
reading books. She writes what she loves to read—steamy, dreamy romance with a little angst
thrown in on the side.

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 A BOU T THE A U THOR

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