He tries shaking off Brent’s iron grip. “You're making a big mistake! I’m Preston Graves the third and –”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Brent growls, tightening his hold.
Wow.
Preston squirms, panic in his eyes. “But...this is crazy! Isabella and I are dating.”
Brent’s green eyes settle on me. My heart's still in my throat, but I manage to shake my head for a split second.
This courtship ended after the first and only date Preston Graves will ever get from me. One date too many.
“I don’t think so,” Brent says, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Yes, we are,” Preston insists. “Tell him Isabella!”
Even if I could find my tongue, that’s the last thing I’d admit to.
A mischievous glint flashes in Brent’s eyes. “She can’t be dating you. She’s dating me.”
Wait. What?!
I nearly choke on my own breath.
Preston tries harder to get loose. “Impossible!”
Brent spins Preston around so they’re face to face. “Then you probably also believe it’s impossible we’re engaged. And that I’ll beat the fuck out of any man who comes within twenty feet of my fiancée.”
I'm no stranger to F-words, but that one, on his lips, makes me want to pass out.
He gives Preston another shove and before I know it, Brent grabs me, one hand on the back of my head, and smashes his lips against mine.
I'm gone.
Heat consumes me so swiftly the world melts. His lips are all fire. The blood surging through my veins might be lava.
My lips part – they never have a chance – and his tongue sweeps into my mouth.
Hot. Bold. Amazing.
Brent’s other arm wraps around me, holding my body tight against the length of him. It's like an ice cream cone up against a space heater. My entire body melts down from the inside out.
Holy hell. This is the kind of kiss every girl dreams about. The take-me-out-of-this-world kind.
I’m so engrossed several moments flit by before I remember he shouldn’t be kissing me.
We aren’t alone. I barely know him. He’s my student’s father.
A dozen other realizations bum-rush my dizzy brain, including Preston’s voice.
I pull out of the kiss – regretfully. Still too worked up to stand on my own, I lean against Brent, taking a few seconds to let the real world return.
“No one dumps Preston Graves!” He says numbly, his anger slowly returning. “And that stupid app guaranteed three dates. Three!” He holds up his fingers, as if I don't know how to count.
Hell, after that kiss, maybe I don't.
“I can sue. Sue them, and you. Both of you!” He prattles on, stomping a foot like a child not getting his way. “You've made a big mistake, Isabella Derby. You and your thug boyfriend. I'll take every penny you have and – and her teacher’s license. Just watch me. Preston Graves can do that!”
Brent’s upper lip curls slightly as he shakes his head. “Preston Graves better get the fuck out of here before he needs to sue for medical expenses, too.”
“Hey! Is there a problem here?”
I push away from Brent’s side as Oscar Winters and Natalie walk through the door. The poor girl looks bewildered, probably wondering what the hold up is with her dad.
“Yeah. Big problem,” Brent replies, pointing at Preston. “Did you let his man in the building?”
“No.” Oscar's face falls, realizing the seriousness. He might not have Brent's rogue good looks, but he's a big man. Over six feet tall and two hundred intimidating pounds, Oscar walks towards Preston. “How did you get in here, sir?”
“Dear God, are you all clueless? Preston Graves can go anywhere he damn well –”
“No, he can’t,” Brent interjects. “I don’t know how he got in the building, but I saw him sneaking out of the men’s room. Didn't like the look on his face. I followed.”
“You're in the wrong place. Let's go.” Oscar grabs Preston’s arm. “I'm truly sorry for this, Ms. Derby. It won’t happen again.”
“I hope not,” Brent says seriously. “Safety's in your hands.” He nods towards Natalie. “That shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
“Never, Mr. Eden. You're absolutely right. Believe me, I'll find out how Mr. Graves found his way in. It won't happen a second time.” Oscar tugs Preston towards the door, none too gently.
Preston appears to have lost some of his arrogance as he crosses the room, at the mercy of two powerful men. But he's still wearing a this-isn’t-over glare I don't like one bit. I roll my shoulders, pretending to stretch. Really, I'm hiding the shiver.
Brent’s hand slides off my shoulder and down my back. Amazingly comforting.
“Get your things,” he says quietly. “I’ll walk you out.”
“I’ll take your sketchpad!” Natalie says cheerfully, ready to chip in.
Her smile suggests she saw plenty, probably through the small glass window in the classroom door. It also says what just happened hasn't bothered her in the least.
My cheeks go bright red. I'm more thankful than ever she's mature for her age. At least I don't have to worry about any gossip that could get me in deep, deep doo-doo.
Still fighting off a nervous tremble, I say, “Thank you.” Then I look at Brent. “That’s not necessary, but thanks. Again. I can find my own way out, Mr. Eden.”
“No. You're coming to your car with me,” he insists, grabbing my carry-all off the desk. “This everything?”
He’s no nonsense through and through. The hint of irony in his glare tells me not to argue. So I don’t.
“Everything,” I echo, stepping forward and taking my sketchpad from Natalie. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. Derby.” With another large grin, she leans in and whispers, “Thank you, too. Dad likes being a hero. Doesn't get to do the whole white knight thing as often as he'd like.”
“Nat.” There's a hint of a warning in Brent’s tone.
Natalie shakes her head slightly while her green eyes twinkle. “He’s a good knight, too.”
Unable to disagree, I nod.
“Where’s your backpack, baby girl?” Brent asks.
“Oh! I think I left it in the hallway when you told me to go get Mr. Winters,” Natalie answers.
“Go get it. We'll wait right here.”
“Okay, Daddy!” There’s a skip in her step as she hurries towards the door.
Once again, I’m searching for my tongue as I walk towards the door with Brent by my side. I need to tell him thank you, but I’m afraid I’ll sound like a bubbling idiot.
“One question: what made you go out with a man who calls himself by his own name?” Brent asks once Natalie's out of earshot.
Kill me. He's trying to lighten this insanity, I'm sure. Still, full-fledged embarrassment burns my cheeks. “Fuck if I know.” I flinch then and bite my tongue.
That's not how a teacher speaks. Especially a preschool teacher who does evening art classes for older kids.
For a second, he cocks his head. Then, to my utter amazement, he laughs. It’s a nice sound. And it breaks the invisible ice surrounding me. “That's a damn good answer, Ms. Derby.”
“Well...thank you,” I say sheepishly. “I knew I made a mistake. I thought we were done. Tried to let him down easy. Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think he’d show up here.”
He lifts a brow as we step into the hallway. “Is Preston Graves in your wildest dreams?”
“Hell no!” I flinch again at my own language. “I mean, no. Gross. He was a match-up from a dating site. One I won’t mention because I’m very dissatisfied.”
“How many times did you date him?”
“Once.” I shake my head. “Actually, it was more like a half-date. I didn’t even make it through reading the menu at the place in Scottsdale before I knew I had to cut things short. It had already been too long.”
My comment reminds him we're probably wasting time, too. He starts walking and I follow.
Natalie is waiting by the main entrance door with Oscar. It's a long corridor. Brent sees them, but doesn’t seem to be in a hurry.
“What did you do?” he asks.
“I laid a twenty on the table to pay for my glass of wine, gave the waitress a big tip, which she highly deserved, and lied.”
“Lied?”
“Yes. Lied. I told him it was nice to meet him, which it wasn't, and then I said I was sorry, but I simply don’t have time to date right now.”