He doesn’t know that I adore him. Or lust after him.
Like I said, he brought the tingles. Awareness was so thick in the air between us as he carried me through the school that I’d felt like the heroine at the end of An Officer and a Gentleman, when Richard Gere comes charging into the factory and carries Debra Winger out into the light, away from all the massive rolls of paper and frustrating boxes that need stacking. My kindergarten students are much more adorable than boxes that need stacking, and I love my job, but on that day, if Roger had kept walking past the nurse’s office, out into the parking lot, and insisted on driving me back to his place in his Jeep Patriot for a steaming cup of hot tea and a steamier make-out session in his library, I wouldn’t have put up a fight.
I know that movie is problematic for a lot of reasons—Laura is quick to let me know when I’m loving things that aren’t the most pro-woman-power things to love—but I adore it. I love the way both characters just…know. In that moment it’s so clear on their faces that they’ve found their forever person, the one they’re going to be with for the rest of their lives.
Tanner is not going to be my forever person. But he seems nice, and he’s certainly attractive. So maybe tonight doesn’t have to be a total bust. Justin isn’t interested in helping me—even though he’s the one who’s always insisting that he’s there for me any time I need him—but maybe there’s still a chance to learn a thing or two.
“So, why was your night off to a rocky start?” I shift toward Tanner, giving him a better view of the cleavage Laura assured me was going to draw men to me like helpless mosquitoes lured into a bug zapper, and try not to feel self-conscious.
“Work trouble.” His gaze shifts to my chest and back up again so quickly I’m not sure it happened. It’s even subtler than Justin’s peek, but at least Tanner doesn’t look horrified by the amount of skin I’m showing, so that’s a plus. “A couple of the guys I work with live to give me shit.”
I nod sympathetically. “I know the feeling. I’m a kindergarten teacher.”
He laughs. “The kids give you a lot of shit?”
“No, not really,” I say, returning his grin. “But there’s always a couple troublemakers. You know, the kid who won’t stop eating Play Dough or the little boy who crawls under the desks trying to look up the girl’s skirts.”
“Well, I can’t really blame them.” His eyes twinkle as he leans closer. “Play Dough smells good, and looking up a girl’s skirt is just about the most fun there is.”
I shake my head, nerves spiking as my heart starts to beat faster.
This is it! That was a signal to escalate flirting, one so clear not even I could misunderstand it.
But what do I say in response? Should I keep it coy? Maybe a shy giggle before guiding the conversation back to his work? Should I go the more direct route and ask if there’s a significant skirt in his life at the moment? Or should I take the flirting bull by the horns, touch his arm, and say something sexy like “now I’m regretting wearing pants?”
Or is that too completely raunchy? Would that send signals I don’t really want to send, even if I try to make it obvious I’m teasing?
Holy mother of cannoli, just say something!
Speak! Move your mouth before he realizes that you’re weird and goes looking for another woman to hit on!
My lips are parting and something is on the way out of my mouth—in moments like these, when my anxiety is running high, I’m never sure what I’m going to say until the words emerge and I’ve either pulled off communication or offered the conversational equivalent of a turd dropped in the middle of the dinner table—when a large, muscled arm wraps around my waist and the strangest thing happens.
Heat shoots through my midsection, rushing up to flush my cheeks and down to warm much more intimate places. Places I’ve assumed would only sizzle for Roger from now until the day I convince him we’re meant to be, or my eventual death as an old cat lady—whichever comes first.
But now, there’s no doubt about it. I’m sizzling. Burning. Longing for more possessive touches from a total stranger.
And then the stranger says in a familiar voice, “Tell me you’re not scamming on my little sister right now, Nowicki. Please, tell me I’m seeing things,” and I realize this is something much more disturbing than attraction to a man I don’t know.
This is attraction to Justin. This is enjoying the way it feels to have Justin’s arm wrapped around me, and the warmth of his front warming my back as he pulls me close. This is full-body tingles inspired by a man who is so firmly in the friend zone that I’ve never even considered what it might feel like to kiss him.