Stirred Up (7 page)

“That’s disappointing, but I’ll get over it.
I just assumed from the way you were grinding up against each
other, something would have–”

“We weren’t grinding,” Cheryl protested.

Emily said nothing.

“Oh, God, we were
grinding
,” Cheryl
wailed, falling backwards onto the bed. “I don’t know what came
over me.”

“I’m guessing his hotness came over you. What
did you two do when you left the club? Did he make a move?”

“He walked me to my car and we stood there
kind of awkwardly and I was terrified he’d try to kiss me or ask me
to go home with him and I’d have to say no but I’d want to say yes,
and the rest of the semester would be a disaster.” She stopped and
took a breath. “But he just apologized for getting carried away and
said not to worry, he wasn’t going to hit on me, and that was
that.”

“Hm. Sounds like our Jason is a stand-up
guy.”

“I know,” Cheryl said, and she could hear the
dismay in her own voice. “Which makes him that much hotter.”

“Yeah, it really kind of does.”

They were both quiet as they mulled this
over.

“I know you’re not looking for a relationship
right now,” Emily finally said, “but have you thought about giving
it a go with him when the semester’s over?”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” she said
wryly. “I sort of hinted to him that I might be interested. It’s
pretty tempting, but I just don’t know. I have so much on my plate
right now. I’m not sure I’m ready for all the drama and
disappointment of dating someone.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way, you know.
Not if it’s the right guy. And Jason doesn’t seem like Mr.
Drama.”

“I suppose not. But let’s not forget my dirty
little secret. Even supposing he was interested in me that
way–”

“I’d say that’s pretty much a given,” Emily
broke in.

“Jason’s a good guy, but he’s not a saint.
What’s he going to think about a girlfriend who strips for a
living?”

Emily was silent.

“Exactly,” Cheryl said. “I’m pretty sure he
thinks I’m a nice, ordinary teacher with a normal life. I guarantee
he’s not looking for someone like me.”

“What does that mean, ‘someone like me’?”
Emily demanded. “You’re gorgeous, smart, generous–”

Cheryl laughed, her heart squeezing at
Emily’s passionate defense of her.

“I’m not putting myself down. I’m just being
realistic. I’ve dated guys who were into me stripping, but they
were dirtbags. Good guys get freaked out by it and take off.”

“I don’t know, maybe you’re right. You’re the
only one who knows whether it’s worth taking a chance. I’d just
hate to see you miss out on a great thing because you were scared
of what he’d think. And anyway, you’ll be quitting the club when
classes are over, so you’d just be an ex-stripper by then.”

“Well, for the time being I’m going to hold
off on the grinding and whatnot and concentrate on actually
becoming a teacher.”

“I can’t fault you there. You shouldn’t let
anything distract you from your goal. I totally get that.”

“I know you do. But you’re also insanely
optimistic now that you’re all in love and getting married.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Cheryl was still smiling and shaking her head
when she got off the phone. She sometimes acted like she didn’t
need anyone’s advice, but it was nice to have someone to talk to.
The truth was, she thought about Jason all the time, wondering if
she was ready to take a chance on him when the semester ended.
Assuming he was likewise inclined. He was pretty great, and it was
hard to imagine him making her feel bad.

But she couldn’t worry about all that now. It
was only late September. There was plenty of time to work out what
to do once December rolled around.

***

Jason glanced over at Cheryl as she sighed
and stretched her arms overhead. It was three-thirty on Friday and
they were working on the lesson plan for next week, but they were
both restless. He assumed she was, anyway, since she kept shifting
around in her chair and glancing at the clock.

“What do you say we move this party to the
coffee shop? A change of scenery would probably do us some
good.”

“Sure, I’m game. As long as you’re not doing
it on my account.”

They’d managed to work together just fine all
week, though they were both being more careful, and Cheryl was
being extra deferential. She also hadn’t mentioned climbing this
weekend, and as much as he’d been looking forward to going again
with her, he was starting to think they should maybe cool it for a
week or two. Until he could trust that he wouldn’t spring another
woody on her, he probably ought to keep his distance.

“Trust me, it’s for my benefit, too. I could
stand to look at something besides these walls, and the Blackwater
Café is just a couple blocks away.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, looking
relieved.

Stuffing the papers and planners into their
respective bags, they headed out.

“You okay walking there?” he asked, holding
the door open for her as they left the school. “I don’t mind
driving if the heat’s going to get to you.”

“God no, this is great. I’m so tired of the
air conditioning blasting on me, I’m happy to be outside. Anyway,
it’s not even ninety degrees.”

“You sound like a native.” he said, trying to
suppress the urge to take her hand.

He didn’t hold hands, not even with
girlfriends. Which she was not.

“Oh, I’m fully acclimated. I’ll admit the
heat damn near killed me the first year, but I’m used to it now. As
much as anyone can be, that is. I just wish I didn’t burn so
easily.”

She’d taken off the shapeless sweater she
wore inside the building and stuffed it in her bag. Now she wore a
peach colored sleeveless blouse that revealed her creamy skin and
slim, toned arms. Tiny freckles dusted her shoulders, and all at
once he wanted nothing more than to know how they tasted.

“Are you sure you won’t burn out in this?” he
asked her, his voice coming out gruffer than usual.

“I put sunscreen on every morning, so I
should be okay. Of course, I probably should wear my hat,” she
said, sounding reluctant.

“What’s wrong with wearing a hat?”

Cheryl sighed. “I finally bought one after
burning over and over, but I’m pretty sure I look middle-aged when
I wear it. I just can’t win. I’m vain if I wear it and vain if I
don’t.”

“Now you have to put it on. I want to
see.”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” she asked, her
green eyes slanting up at him.

“Cross my heart.”

“All right, turn away so you get the full
effect. I’ll know by your reaction whether you think it’s
ridiculous.”

They both stopped and Jason turned around,
whistling theatrically.

“Okay,” she said, and he turned back to face
her.

An apple green bucket hat covered her red
hair, little pink and blue flowers peeking out from the underside
of the brim. She looked adorable, kissable, her eyes shining from
underneath the brim, her lush pink lips smiling ruefully.

“So?” she asked. “Middle-aged or not?”

“Not. Definitely not.”

He must have been a bit too emphatic, and
maybe he was kind of staring, because her eyes widened and she
quickly looked away.

“Oh, that’s good,” she said, and started
walking again.

Jason let out a breath and matched his stride
to her smaller one. He’d been making a herculean effort to rein in
his feelings, but she wasn’t making it easy. The woman could wear a
sack and still look sexy. All it took was her bare arms and a cute
hat and he was a goner all over again. A
hat
, for God’s
sake.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.
When they got to the café and looked inside it was clear they
wouldn’t be getting a seat anytime soon. Every table was full, many
of them with students at their laptops, a sure sign the occupants
were there for the long haul.

“Want to try across the street?” he asked,
nodding toward the bar he sometimes frequented.

“I’m game. In fact I could use something to
relax me.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” he asked, letting her
precede him inside.

Taking her hat off, she waited until they
were seated at the bar before answering.

“I’m just stressed, that’s all. Between
teaching and my classes and getting ready for the Praxis exam, I
tend to lie awake at night, imagining nightmarish scenarios that
lead to ruin. Sometimes I do it during the day, too.”

He laughed at her self-deprecating eye roll.
“This one’s on me then,” he said raising his hand to get the
bartender’s attention.

Unfortunately, the bartender tonight was Kim
and she didn’t look happy to see him come in with a woman. They’d
gone on exactly three dates last year, nothing more than a few
drinks and one long goodnight kiss he’d tried to dodge, but she
still seemed pissed that he’d ended things. She didn’t usually work
Fridays, but obviously this was just his lucky day.

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” she said,
sauntering over. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

Perfect.

“Not at all. You must have changed your
schedule.”

“Yeah, I went back to school.”

She’d complained about her dead-end job
without seeming like she’d do anything about it, so this came as a
surprise. Mostly though he just wanted her to get their drinks and
leave them alone.

“That’s great. Good for you.” He waited a
beat and then turned to Cheryl. “What’ll you have?”

“A glass of the house merlot would be great,”
she said, her gaze moving back and forth between him and Kim.

“I’ll have a Steel Rail,” he said, smiling
his thanks.

Kim gave him a narrow-eyed look and walked
away. Sighing, he turned on his stool so he was facing Cheryl.

A small smile was playing at the corners of
her mouth.

“You going to tell me what that was all
about?” she asked.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Cheryl laughed, the amused, husky sound going
straight to his gut.

“I guess that pretty much says it all.”

“We should probably get to work, don’t you
think?” he asked, all innocence.

“I guess we’d better.”

Leaning over, she reached for her bag, the
movement exposing the smooth white skin above her pants. She sat
back up, holding her notebook, and smiled absently as Kim set their
drinks in front of them.

“I’m kind of bummed about today’s class. Not
enough kids participated, and I thought it was a great reading. So
now I’m worried because I’d planned on doing “Bernice Bobs Her
Hair” the next time around, but maybe I need to do something more
modern. Mix it up a little, you know? One thing I feel really
strongly about is teaching contemporary material they can relate
to, but then we still have to hit the required stuff, too.”

“I agree with the last part, but I thought
today’s class went great,” he said, surprised at her take on
it.

“Neil fell asleep and half of them didn’t
even read the story.”

“But half of them
did
read it, and
for that class, that’s pretty good.”

“So it wasn’t a disaster?”

“Of course not.”

“But you’d tell me if it was?”

“Hell, yes. I’m not here to make you feel
good. I’m trying to help you be a better teacher. But as I’m sure
you know, it’s not like in the movies. Sometimes you reach them and
often you don’t. I also think we sometimes reach them without
knowing it.”

She looked thoughtful.

“That helps, thank you. But I still want to
do better.”

“The threat of a pop quiz at any given time
motivates them to do the assigned reading. You might want to try
that. But the way you led them through the discussion was spot
on.”

She smiled then, one of her killer, full-on
smiles that just about stopped his heart and short-circuited his
brain.

Picking up her glass of wine she held it
aloft.

“To keeping them awake,” she said grinning at
him.

He raised his glass, tapping hers gently as a
foolish grin spread across his face.

“To keeping them awake,” he repeated,
laughing along with her.

They pulled out their planners and went
through the next week’s classes, but eventually they moved on to
books and movies and embarrassing high school moments. Jason was so
lost in listening to her, watching her animated expressions, that
he completely lost track of time. It wasn’t until Brad appeared
that he realized how long they’d been sitting there.

“Hey, man. What’s up?”

Jason looked up at his friend, his stomach
sinking. Not only would he gladly have cancelled the plans he’d
made with Brad to hang with Cheryl, he really didn’t want to deal
with the inevitable ragging from Brad about her.

“Cheryl, this is Brad. Brad, Cheryl.”

“Hi there,” Cheryl said, sticking her hand
out for Brad to shake.

Brad, utter cheeseball that he was, kissed
the back of her hand. For a brief, blazing second, Jason felt like
decking him.

Cheryl raised an amused eyebrow.

“I’d better get going,” she said, turning to
Jason. “Thanks for the help. I appreciate the pep talk.”

“Why the rush?” Brad asked. “I don’t bite.
Stay and have a drink with us.”

Cheryl looked at Brad with a gleam in her
eye, as if she had his number already.

“Thanks, but I actually have somewhere to be
at six,” she said, getting up. “You guys have a good night.”

Picking up her bag she turned and walked
away, her exit drawing the attention of every man in the place.

“Okay, spill it,” Brad said, turning to
him.

“There’s nothing to spill. She’s in the
education program at Nevada State and she’s doing her field hours
in my classroom this semester. End of story.”

“That’s sounds like the beginning of a story
to me.”