A Year of Love Read online

  His shoulders straighten and eyes narrow pointedly. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have Kimmie’s number either.”

  “You don’t?” I could have sworn he was friends with her outside of school. He’s freaking friends with everyone, and now he doesn’t have a relationship with the one person I need him to?

  “No.” He shakes his head. “Why do you seem so shocked by this?”

  “Because you’re Mr. Popular. You get Teacher of the Year every year. Your classroom is the fun zone, and you’re the head ringleader of the entertainment circus. You know everyone and everyone knows you, and they all fawn all over you constantly.”

  “I think maybe you’ve done a little bit of judging when it comes to me that’s not fact-based.”

  This is so not the time to get into all the things I’ve judged this guy for. It would take wayyy too long. This is the time to sort this out and get back to my relaxing vacation. “Forget it. I’ll call RentBNB customer service.”

  I’m cold and wet and soapy, but I’ll be damned if I do one dang other thing before I get this sorted out.

  Mack

  I know maybe it wasn’t great of me to pretend not to have Kimmie’s number, but sweet Katy Dayton and I have been on the wrong foot since the day I grew them in the womb—or at the very least, the day she walked into the Savannah High School building several years ago.

  She thinks I don’t notice the almost-daily annoyed looks and the rolls of her pretty eyes whenever we’re in the same room together, but I do. Katy Dayton is the opposite of my biggest fan, and her disdain for me has turned us into quite the rivals in the Savannah Regional School District.

  Though, I always view our rivalry as a fun pastime that allows me to stay on her radar. An opening that keeps me on her mind, even if I’m not exactly in her good graces.

  But you know what they say, it’s a very thin line between love and hate.

  Lord knows, I’ve always had a bit of a thing for Ms. Katy Dayton. She’s beautiful and complex, and eventually winning her over has posed quite the challenge that I can’t back down from.

  And even though she comes across as prim and proper and even a little uptight at times, I know her good qualities better than anyone.

  Point-blank, she’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. Big blue eyes and flawless skin that give way to the most interesting shade of brownish-copper hair. Her teeth are straight, her lips are full and lush, and her dainty body always looks perfectly together.

  She’s a good teacher too. I’ve heard that more than a hundred times from just as many students. Which, considering she teaches math, is a pretty big fucking feat if you ask me.

  Her students don’t mind that she’s firm or that she makes them work in class. They say she’s fair and that she makes a genuine effort to help them learn without ever making them feel bad or incapable. She’s patient and she’s kind, and apparently, my guts are the only ones she hates.

  I sigh as she paces the living room in her towel, chatting animatedly with the customer service line for RentBNB, and I try really hard not to notice how sexy her legs look beneath the white cotton material. She pauses briefly and turns to me, lifting a hand to her other ear. “You think maybe you want to get on the phone with customer service too?” she whisper-scolds, making me suck my lips into my mouth to keep from laughing.

  As if both of us on the phone with customer service is going to do anything but cause more confusion.

  “Nah.” I shrug. “Looks like you’ve got it covered.”

  Glowering, she turns back to face the windows again and continues her politely toned tirade.

  “Yes, I understand that it’s an automated system and that it’s never been double-booked like this before, but it’s double-booked now, and I’m currently looking at the other double-bookee standing across from me in the living room. Inconvenient, yes. But probably not as inconvenient as it was ten minutes ago when we were looking each other in the eye while I took a shower, wouldn’t you say?” She laughs. “Yes, that’s exactly what happened.” She pauses. Listens intently. Then adds, “Okay… So, what are we supposed to do now?”

  I take another swig from my glass of wine and smile to myself when I realize she’s still pacing the living room, in her towel, with shampoo still matted to her wet hair.

  The woman is so worked up over this whole mix-up that she didn’t even finish her fucking shower.

  If only Katy Cat would let me be the one to help her relax…

  “No, that’s not acceptable.” She shakes her head. “That’s not what either of us booked. We thought we were getting a place to ourselves, and we paid a price tag that suggested the same. This isn’t an episode of Married at First Sight, and I’m too young to be a cast member on Three’s Company.”

  She glances over her shoulder at me briefly and then turns back to the window, her voice lowering to a murmur. “Listen, we’re not technically strangers because we work together, but I don’t think you’re understanding how much I do not want to be here with this person. The two of us are like oil and water. We don’t mix.”

  Ouch. I suspected she wasn’t fond of me, but hearing her say it aloud hurts a little more than expected. She whispered at least, clearly trying to spare my feelings, but she doesn’t know that my ears can detect a damn dog whistle, not to mention a few whispered words.

  “Yes, I’d say a refund is warranted.” She pauses and turns, and the corners of her mouth flex down. “I guess I’ll have to find another time to do this vacation. Okay. Yeah. Thanks. You too. Bye.” She sighs again, pulls her phone away from her ear, and touches the screen to end the call. She looks downright despondent and doesn’t take her eyes off the view out the window. I give her a moment to gather herself—it’s abundantly clear I’m not her favorite person—and then do my best to breach the awkward silence.

  “So…”

  Good job, Mack. Smooth delivery.

  Her back straightens suddenly, and my eyebrows draw together. Something is happening; I’m just not entirely sure what. And evidently, she’s not ready to give me a clue yet either. Instead, she turns to face me, crosses her arms over her chest, and a sassy attitude emanates from her stance.

  “They’re refunding us?” I ask, hoping innocent questions don’t incite her inner beast.

  “Yes. For the huge inconvenience.”

  “And, what? We’re both supposed to leave?”

  She shakes her head. “They said it was up to us to figure it out, as with this short notice, they wouldn’t be booking it again anyway.”

  “That’s great,” I say with a smile, perking up. “Free vacation for both of us.”

  “Uh, no. No way. Not for both of us. One of us, maybe. But not both.”

  My eyebrows draw together. Geez. Does she really dislike me that much? “So, what? You’re leaving, then?”

  “What?” She narrows her eyes. “I never said I was leaving. And considering I was here first, you should leave. Not me.”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t think vacation rentals follow ‘shotgun’ rules. You can’t ‘call it’ or race me to the front seat of a beachfront condo.”

  “I’ve already showered here, Mack. I’ve been on the bed. I’ve put my stuff away. The place is basically broken-in for me. Therefore, I should be the one to stay.”

  “Having showered here is the criteria we’re basing this on?” I ask with a scoff.

  “Yes.” She doubles down.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “Fine,” I repeat, guzzling down the rest of my wine, setting the glass on the table, and then heading straight for the bedroom. With a hand between both my shoulders, I strip off my shirt before I reach the end of the hallway, and the air conditioning pebbles goose bumps on my freshly exposed skin.

  Immediately, Katy comes unstuck from her place in the living room and starts chasing after me.

  “Hey! Where are you going?” Her voice is a screech. “What are you doing?”

 
“I’m showering.”

  “Oh no, you’re not!”

  “Yes. I am,” I disagree, unbuttoning my shorts and shoving them to the floor so I can step out of them as I walk.

  “Oh my God!” she yells behind me. “You just took off your pants!”

  “Very astute, Ms. Dayton. You should be a teacher.”

  “Shut up, you lunatic. Stop taking off your clothes!”

  “I really don’t want to shower in my clothes,” I contest, doing a little spin in my boxer briefs to give her a grin. “All that wet fabric freaks me out.”

  “What?” she yells, annoyed with my nonsense.

  “I have a thing about wet clothing.”

  “No, you don’t.” She scoffs. “You literally had a water balloon fight at school yesterday!”

  “Ah, but you only get wet if you lose.”

  “What are we even talking about? Stop trying to change the subject, and stop taking off your clothes!” she commands on a scream, her volume and panic escalating notably as I grab the waistband of my boxer briefs and start to shove.

  “Sorry,” I say without turning around. “Can’t.”

  “Oh my God, that’s your ass. I see your ass!”

  “Too enthralled to close your eyes?” I tease. “That’s understandable.”

  “You’re a total psycho, you know that?”

  I look back over my shoulder and wink, and she lets out a cry of animalistic proportions. “Oh my God, you’re a child!”

  “Say that sentence and the one about my ass back-to-back again and do it a little louder, and the situation with the double-booking will take care of itself.”

  It takes her a minute to catch my teasing drift, but her dramatic reaction doesn’t disappoint.

  “Oh, gross!” she says through a groan. “Insinuating I’m some kind of child sex offender is not funny.”

  “Trust me, Katy Cat, it’s funny,” I call over my shoulder as I step into the shower and turn on the spray. “Anyway, if you want to finish up with your shower, don’t be afraid to come in here. I, personally, am not scared of a double-booking,” I tease, even though I’m fully aware inside a shower with me is the last place Katy Dayton would ever allow herself to go.

  But I can’t deny, pretty little Katy joining me in the shower would most certainly make my fucking day.

  Katy

  When Mack finally comes out of the shower, I’ve managed to rinse the shampoo out of my hair in the kitchen sink and thrown on some clothes from my bag. Luckily, I’ve also succeeded in washing away some of the bad feelings too. I’m not saying I’m feeling a sense of camaraderie and am ready to sing “Kumbaya” around a campfire with him, but I’m not wielding a pitchfork either. That said, it might be because I didn’t have the foresight to pack one in my luggage.

  His hair curls around his ears, beads of water still clinging to the strands, and his bright green eyes shine with an intangible mix of mischief and good nature. I don’t know what to make of him—I never know what to make of him. But in this environment, without the pressure of professionalism, it’s as if the power of his smile is a little—okay, a lot—more potent.

  I should be annoyed with him for the way he’s handled this debacle, but for whatever reason, all I can think about is the way his bare ass looked when he dropped his drawers in the middle of the hallway. Tight and toned and…juicy.

  Sweet Jesus. I’m losing it.

  I suck my lips into my mouth as he comes over to the couch I’m sitting on and takes a seat on the other end. I chew on the inside of my cheek and pull my knees up to my chest as he crosses his ankle over his knee and smiles a downright gorgeous smile at me.

  Handsome freak.

  Now you’re starting to understand why everyone loves him so much…

  “Listen…” he starts, holding up his hands almost nervously. “I feel a little bad. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here. We shouldn’t be bickering. We should be making the best out of this free vacation, you know? I don’t want to be your enemy, and I don’t intend to get in the way of your fun.” He meets my eyes, and his lips bend down slightly at the corners. “I shouldn’t have been so flippant about getting in the shower when I knew you were upset. I’m really sorry about that, Katy.”

  His words completely disarm me, and a soft sigh escapes my lips as I search the depths of his green eyes to gauge his honesty.

  But all I find is an obvious genuineness. A certified truth.

  No red flags. No obvious tells. Just straight-up facts.

  I flit my eyes away from the strength of his mesmerizing gaze and stare down at my hands.

  As annoyed at him as I am, and as easy as it would be to keep fighting, he’s right. I don’t want to be stressed the whole time I’m here, and I don’t want to leave. I want to go to sleep without my always-tension-filled shoulders touching my ears, for God’s sake. And watching him strip himself on the way to the shower is so ingrained in my thoughts at this point, I can’t even pretend to complain about it.

  Although, there’s no way in hell I’ll let him know how affected I was by it. So, I keep my response simple and focused. No discussion of sexy, toned butts, whatsoever.

  “You’re right.” I meet his eyes. “We should call a truce. Put down our weapons. Just give each other some peace and space.”

  He winces a little and then laughs.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing. I just… Well, I was going to invite you to come down to the beach while I surf. Kind of the opposite of giving you some space. But if you want to be left alone, I get it.”

  I consider the options carefully—staying alone in the house or going down to the beach…and secretly watching his juicy ass surf.

  That thought shouldn’t make me feel giddy, but hell’s bells, it does.

  Careful to be casual, I shrug one shoulder. “I guess I could come down to the beach and read. I was thinking of doing that anyway.”

  “Yeah?” he asks, and if I’m not imagining it, I could swear he almost sounds hopeful.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “It’s not like you’re going to be chatting my ear off while you take some slices of the water.”

  “Take some slices of the water?” he asks with an amused chuckle.

  “Isn’t that something they say in surfing?”

  “Not exactly. But now, I’m thinking they should.” He smirks and lifts his eyebrows playfully. “So…the beach?”

  It takes me a surprisingly small amount of time to respond.

  “Sure. I’ll come.”

  “Fantastic. Let’s go,” he responds, jumping up from the couch with a spryness I can only dream of.

  “Now?”

  Mack laughs. “Yes, now.”

  “Oh.”

  “What? You need time to prepare or something?”

  “No, I just didn’t realize when you asked that you meant now.”

  Mack grins so big, the tops of his cheeks touch his bottom eyelashes. “Well, since today’s already half gone, and half of Sunday will be taken by the drive back, we only have two days to enjoy the sun and fun of this beach condo. Which means, there’s no use in wasting any more time, you know?”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “That definitely makes sense.”

  “How long will it take you to get your swimsuit on?”

  “Two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  “Ah, yes, right. A little bit longer than one shake of a lamb’s tail, then.”

  I smile. I can’t help it. “Exactly.”

  “All right, let’s do it, Katy Cat.”

  I nod. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready to go.”

  I just hope I can get my mind off the tight, tanned look of his gluteus maximus before my beach afternoon with Mack Houston begins.

  Mack

  The red sauce bubbles as I stir through it with a wooden spoon, and the aroma of garlic bread emanates from the oven. The only thing I can see, however, is the image of Katy Dayton in the shower.

  It makes sense since she’s
in there once again, but the need to stop myself from being such a dirty bastard runs rampant. She’s beautiful—more beautiful than I ever dreamed of—but she’s so much more than that at the same time.

  She’s smart and funny, and given the chance to relax, she’s even tolerant of me. I’m still trying to get over the fact that she sat on the beach for hours upon hours, entertaining herself with a book and a big bottle of lemonade as I surfed and swam and occasionally dropped my wet body down onto the towel next to her. She was friendly and welcoming, and she didn’t refer to me as a dog or an ass or an animal of any kind even one time.

  It was a surprisingly fantastic afternoon. One that’s given me hope that I can overcome the challenge that is making Katy Dayton realize she should like me. As much as I secretly like her.

  After we got back from our day at the beach, I figured the least I could do for her genuine embrace of the truce we formed was cook her dinner. So, while I gave Katy space to shower off the sand, I ran to the market up the street and picked up a few supplies.

  Blinking frantically out of my haze as she walks through the door to the kitchen with a towel wrapped around her hair, I crack the door of the oven to take a look at the garlic bread and shut off the burner to the pasta.

  She freezes when she sees the spread on the stove, and her eyes come to mine. “You’re cooking dinner?”

  “Just call me Betty Crocker.” I sheathe my hands with the oven mitts on the counter and waggle my eyebrows with a grin before pulling the bread from the oven and setting it on the waiting hot pads on the corner.

  Katy laughs, and the line of her quirky, cute smile makes my chest throb. God, how have I managed to pretend my crush on her wasn’t this big for so long?

  “Wow. Thank you,” she remarks, her voice a soft caress.

  “You’re welcome. I hope you like spaghetti.”

  “Are you kidding? I love it. I would marry it if a union with food was legal.”

  “Is a union with food illegal? Or is it just the kind of thing no one’s actually tried?”

  “One-way ticket to Gitmo, I think.”