Chapter Six

Sawyer

What to do in a small town where you don’t really know anyone?

Good question. When you find the answer, let me know.

I’m practically climbing the walls with anxiety, needing to get out of the house a little bit. I made it through my first week of school fine, but am a little disappointed to report I didn’t get a chance to steal a few moments alone with AJ. The only time I saw her in the teachers’ lounge, she was having what appeared to be a private powwow with the school secretary. When I came in, they lowered their heads and seemed to whisper. I’m man enough to admit that I was seriously hoping it was me they were talking about. In fact, I was pretty certain it was about me, but I’m just not sure if it was for the reasons I wished for.

You know, that she found me crazy attractive and was going to ask me to share a cup of coffee sometime.

The attraction isn’t the issue. I know it and she knows it. I felt it that night back in July, and if the way my cock stirs to life in my pants when she’s near, I’d say it’s still alive and thriving. And it sure as shit wasn’t one-sided. You can’t turn off that kinda attraction with the flip of a switch.

Now I just need to decide what to do with it.

AJ appears to be fine with ignoring my existence, pretending that I didn’t have my hands down the back of her pants, the taste of her lips on my own, or the sound of her gasps filling my ears a mere month ago. Well, Miss Summer, I can’t forget, and I sure as shit don’t want to.

This isn’t a game, but I’m filled with this sudden and all-consuming desire to win. And the prize? One brunette with invigorating green eyes and the mouth of a sailor. She’s sin wrapped in proper khaki pants and sensible flats. She probably causes wet dreams for half the male student body with her button-downs that reveal just a hint of cleavage.

Miss AJ Summer, eighth grade math teacher.

Challenge accepted.

When the clock hits nine, I decide it’s time to get out of the house. The air is warm, yet feels refreshing coming off the Bay as I climb into my Mercedes and practically peel out of the driveway. I can feel the tension evaporate with every mile I put between myself and the house, where it’s quiet and, well, quiet. My mind starts to wander and the doubts start to creep in. Can I do this? Can I transition from one career to another without giving myself ulcers in the process? Fuck knows I’ve stressed enough over the interview, move, and first week at school.

But this is what I’ve always wanted.

I knew playing ball wouldn’t last forever, and even though many will transition into broadcasting or a sports reporting position, I knew I wanted to do more. I wanted to work with the kids early in life, guiding those with a love for sports and nurturing their passions the way my old coaches did for me. That’s why I made sure I completed school before turning pro. I needed to have my ducks in a row when the time came.

And that time is now.

As I pull into town, a route that’s becoming very familiar, I look for people. I don’t need a big crowd, but I wouldn’t mind shooting the shit with a few guys right about now over the game and drinking a few beers. Before I even realize it, I’m pulling into the lot next to Lucky’s. Maybe the owner will be here again tonight and want to chat.

There’s a handful a patrons inside, but not nearly as crowded as it was that fateful July night a month ago. I’m not quite sure what constitutes Saturday nightlife, but I don’t really think this is it. Those same older gentlemen sit at one end of the bar; guys I’d probably consider the regulars of the joint. On the other end, I spy a handful of younger guys shootin’ the shit with the bartender, who is not Lucky.

I head in their direction, but leave an empty stool between the guy at the end of their group and myself just in case they’re not game for entertaining a stranger.

The guy behind the bar nods and walks my way. “What can I get ya?”

“Miller Lite bottle,” I reply as I get comfortable on the stool.

My attention is pulled to the television above the bar where the Braves and Phillies are tied at one a piece at the bottom of the ninth. Bases are loaded and the closer is stepping up to bat for the Phillies. My heart starts to race as I recall moments like this. This is why I played the game. The thrill, the excitement, and sometimes even the letdowns. But in the end, it was still just a game, even if it had been my whole life.

Well, not my whole life, but for a while, pretty damn close.

“Sawyer Randall,” I hear from the guy beside me, his face lighting up with recognition. The guy is tall with dark hair and eyes, and a friendly disposition. He’s broad and tan, like maybe he spends time outdoors, and wears laugh lines around his eyes well.

The man reaches over and extends his hand. “Ryan Elson. I’m a big fan. Not of the Rangers, though, sorry. I’m from New York.”

“Ahhh, Mets or Yankees?” I ask.

“Fuck the Yankees,” he replies with a wide grin, which makes me laugh.

“You’re all right, Ryan Elson,” I confirm, patting him on the shoulder.

“This is Dean, Levi, and the one behind the bar is Linkin.”

“Nice to meet you all,” I say, suddenly feeling at ease with these guys.

Obviously, they know who I am, or at least Ryan does, so I sit back and wait for the next series of questions to come. They always do. What was it like in the pros? Carrie Doherty, huh? What was she like to wake up next to? How’s the shoulder? Tough break about being let go from the Rangers. Any chance you’ll be able to play ball again someday or have you reached your expiration date at thirty-three years old?

But those questions don’t come.

“So, a teacher, huh?” Levi asks from the far end.

“Guilty,” I reply, tossing some popcorn into my mouth.

“That’s cool. It’s not every day someone with your stats decides to head back to junior high,” he says with a grin.

“No, definitely not. I had a few offers from Fox Sports and ESPN, but I didn’t really want that. I’d always liked working with kids, so I thought PE and coaching was a better fit.”

I wait for the next question in this series. Why teaching? It’s not like you need the money.

And that would be true. I don’t need the money. I was never into overspending on all the elaborate shit most other pro athletes seem to indulge in. I invested early on, paid off all of my parents’ debt, and could live comfortably for the rest of my life playing golf or tennis at a country club.

But that’s not me.

And I hate golf and tennis.

There’s no way I could do that shit. I’d be bored and ready to crawl out of my skin after the first day.

“Our sister-in-law works at the school,” the guy in the middle, Dean I think his name was, says.

“Yeah? Who’s that?”

“AJ Summer.”

Well, if that doesn’t get my attention.

“Yeah? Sister-in-law?” I ask casually, yet my heart is racing in my chest.

“One of the middle ones. I’m married to Payton, the oldest. Then there’s Jaime, Ryan’s wife,” Dean says.

“I’m dating Abby, one of the twins,” Levi adds.

“And I knocked up the other twin, Lexi,” Linkin chimes in as he dries off a glass.

“So there’re five of them?” I ask, committing every tidbit of detail to memory.

“Six. There’s one more. Meghan.” Ryan glances down at his beer, a look crossing his face that I can’t decipher before it becomes obscured. Solemn looks seem to appear on all of their faces, which lets me know something bad happened, probably to that other sister.

“Anyway, have you met AJ yet? She teaches math,” Dean asks, the sadness on his face quickly pushed away.

My mind flashes to hungry lips and a wicked tongue that makes my cock start to harden in my pants. “I have. We sat next to each other at the staff meeting this week.”

They each nod, but no one gives me any more dirt. I mean, is it too much to ask for these dudes to start spilling all of her dirty little secrets right now?

Yeah, probably. Guys usually could give two shits about that stuff.

“So are you rooting for the Rangers to go all the way or do you secretly have a favorite team?” Ryan asks as another beer is placed in front of him.

We end up chatting and watching sports highlights for the next hour, until the clock hits ten.

“Are you guys ready?” Levi asks, tossing a few bills on the battered bar top.

“Yeah, I’m surprised my phone hasn’t gone off yet,” Ryan says, pulling his phone from his pocket and lighting up the screen.

“They’re probably all drunk and haven’t even realized it’s already getting as late as it is,” Dean answers, pulling his own wallet and phone from his pocket.

“Tell Firecracker that I’ll be home as soon as I close down at one,” Linkin says behind the bar. He seems legitimately torn about having to stay and runs his hands through his hair.

“Will do, man. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Grandma’s staying,” Ryan says as he stands up.

“Shit, don’t remind me. I’m afraid I’m going to have to lock the bedroom door when I sleep tonight,” Linkin quips with a subtle smile and the shake of his head.

“At least Orval isn’t staying and you don’t have to worry about hearing them screw in the next room,” Ryan throws at him.

“No shit,” Linkin says with a hearty laugh.

I must be wearing my confusion on my face as I try to follow their conversation. Levi steps up to me and fills me in. “Lexi was put on partial bed rest yesterday at her appointment to keep her off her feet. Linkin had already told Lucky he’d fill in for him this weekend, so the sisters are all over at their place keeping her company.”

“Pizza and margaritas were on the menu. My guess is so is road-head,” Ryan adds, slapping his hands together in victory and wearing an excited grin.

“And since I’m working until one, Grandma made herself comfortable in my guest room.”

“Plus, he’s opening in the morning at noon.” Dean adds.

“Which is why I feel more comfortable with someone staying at the house. She’s already starting to dilate, and even though the docs say the babies will be okay to come a little early, I’d feel a hell of a lot better if they’d stay inside Hotel Lexi for another month.”

“Babies?” I ask.

“Yep, two,” he confirms, a proud smile on his face.

“A twin is having twins,” Levi adds.

“And Linkin has twin brothers,” Ryan throws in.

“Wow, you guys don’t slouch on getting the job done,” I say with a laugh.

“We don’t,” Linkin says before turning to the guys. “I’ll see you guys soon. Drive safe.”

“I’m driving. I stopped drinking a while ago,” Dean says before turning to me. “It was nice meeting you, Sawyer. Maybe we’ll catch you again sometime.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” I find myself saying and meaning it.

“Definitely,” Ryan says, reaching for my hand. “We’re having a cookout next weekend for Emma and Orval’s anniversary. If you’re not doing anything, you should come.”

I almost ask if AJ will be there, but I bite the words back before I can let them fly. Of course she’ll be there. It’s her grandparents.

“Sounds good, actually. I don’t really know too many people in town yet,” I say.

“I figured. The party’s moving from our place to Lexi and Linkin’s since she’s supposed to rest. Get the address from Linkin before you leave,” Ryan says before heading out into the mid-August Saturday night.

When I turn my attention back to Linkin, he slips a napkin across the bar. Not the first time that’s happened to me. Hell, not even the first time it was a dude. But I’m still thankful it’s not a phone number with a big red lipstick kiss above it.

It’s his address.

To a party.

One that AJ will be attending.

My night just started looking up even more.

I shove the napkin into my pocket and finish my beer.

“Have you met Grandma yet?” Linkin asks, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Nope,” I answer, then recalling a Twitter tag I received earlier in the week. I would have completely skipped over it, like I do the thousands of other tags and posts, but something in the post had me stopping. The old woman was talking about my ass in the first post, which caught my attention and begged for my standard thank you reply. But it was her response with a tag and talking about dinner that really drew me in.

@AJSummer.

I didn’t click to follow her, but was tempted. Her page is set to private so I was unable to see anything besides her profile, which was your typical smiling photo.

“Well, Sawyer, you’re in for a treat,” Linkin says with a wide smile before turning his attention back to his work.

Something tells me he’s right.

* * *

The first official day of school with students in attendance came and went in a flurry of teenage hormones and baseball stories.

The kids were excited, especially the athletic ones, when they discovered who their new PE teacher was. I tried to keep their focus, but it was too difficult. They all wanted the story, the draft, the injury, the lifestyle. The girls wanted to know about Carrie. I mean it’s not every day your physical education teacher is a former pro baseball player who was married to a Victoria’s Secret model, right?

Yeah, that’s something I wasn’t getting into with them.

Besides the fact that it was the first day back and everyone was hyped up on excitement and anticipation, throw me into the mix. I’m good-looking. I’m not being modest, just stating a fact. I’ve been named to People’s Sexiest Man Alive more times than I can count, been featured in Playgirl magazine, and posed nude for Sports Illustrated.

Shit, my ass has its own hashtag.

And I work hard in the gym to maintain that rating.

Now the halls are empty. School dismissed early for its first day, which is a welcomed reprieve. I knew the first day would be intense, but it was almost overwhelming. Kids everywhere, running, chatting, and trying to catch up on what they all did during the summer, and I can’t remember a single name.

Except one particular name that I can’t seem to forget.

Most of the teachers are either in the lounge, discussing the students in their classes, or still in their classrooms prepping for the next day. I don’t see AJ congregating with the others, so as soon as I can slip out, I head down the empty hall that leads to the math classrooms.

Through the doorway, I see my new favorite teacher sitting behind her desk, writing on what appears to be a desk calendar. She’s wearing those khaki capris that seem do as much for my overactive imagination as some skimpy overpriced lingerie. Add a pair of brown sandals and a light, flowy top that matches her eyes and she’s a walking fantasy that I could watch all day long.

My reaction to her should scare me, but for some reason, it doesn’t. I have a reputation of being a playboy that has followed me since I was signed. Young, good-looking, dated his share of models, actresses, and even a few Grammy-nominated singers. Then I met Carrie, and the tabloids were always looking for the dirt. Over the course of our relationship, I was a liar, a cheat, and a womanizer on more occasions than I can count, but that’s what happens when you’re in the spotlight.

In reality, I was anything but. I was never really into the party scene, even when I was young and women were throwing themselves at me like beads at Mardi Gras. Sure, I might have partaken in a little no-strings sex (hey, I’m a guy) when I was young and dumb, but it was never my MO. And never when I was married. I was always a one-woman kinda guy, and that didn’t change while I was with Carrie.

But I’m not interested in reliving my past, nor thinking about my ex. Instead, I’d like to focus on the woman in front of me, filling out upcoming events on her calendar. Her long dark hair is pulled up in a ponytail, leaving the long, slender column of her neck exposed. Suddenly, I want to kiss and lick that neck more than I want my next breath.

In fact, I crave it.

I must make a noise (probably a groan) because her eyes the color of brilliantly cut emeralds turn and focus on me standing in her doorway. If she’s surprised to see me there, she doesn’t show it. “Hey,” she says, her voice as smooth as butter.

“Hey. How was your day?” I ask, taking a few steps into her classroom.

“It was good. Yours?”

“Not too bad. I probably gave a hundred autographs and was asked to senior prom.”

“Prom?” she asks.

“Yeah. Apparently, she wanted to go ahead and lock me in as her date for when she’s a senior in high school,” I chuckle.

“Wow, that definitely tops the request I had for an extra hall pass this afternoon.” Those full lips I’ve often pictured wrapped around my cock smile widely and make my dick twitch and start to harden.

“Naw, I bet he just wanted an excuse to chat with the hot teacher,” I state bluntly as I approach her desk. She looks so tiny when she’s sitting in a chair, but I know from personal experience that she fits ever so fucking perfectly against my body.

She glances up, her gaze slightly humorous beneath long lashes. “Actually, it was girl.”

“Hmmm, well, that might change things a bit.” I click my tongue inside my cheek and gaze down at what I could easily dub the most beautiful woman in the world. She doesn’t need a spread in a magazine or to wear practically nothing while walking the runway to earn the title. She just has to be herself, looking up at me with humor and question in her eyes, the damn long, slender column of her neck begging for my tongue.

Devine.

I want her.

The room seems to fill with a sexual charge that steals my breath and makes my heart race. She must sense the change. Those intoxicating eyes darken and her breathing quickens. That mouth I had my lips all over opens, forming the most dick-hardening little O. Damn, this woman is sexy.

She stands up, the top of her head hitting just below my chin. My legs move, completely on their own accord, until I’m invading her personal space. She looks up at me, eyes wide, her hands forming tight fists at her side, as if she’s struggling to keep from reaching for me.

Well, join the fucking club, sweetheart.

A wisp of hair escapes her ponytail and hangs down along her cheek. My fingers move, grasping that tendril of hair and moving it behind her ear. Of course, I make sure my fingers graze along the softness of her skin, heating up my blood clear down to my toes. The sweetest gasp slips from her lips and goes straight to my cock. The bastard is impossibly hard right now with no relief in sight. Not as long as AJ Summer is in the vicinity.

She licks her lips right before my eyes, and I take it as a sign that she wants the kiss as much as I do. And holy fuck do I want this kiss.

I bend down slowly, making sure to keep eye contact. Her plump lips get closer and closer, and I can practically taste her already. Her eyes flutter closed, her chin lifted upward as she waits for me to claim her lips with my own. There’s only one thing left to do, one simple, pure craving, and that’s to claim her in a kiss.

My lips hover over hers, my body igniting and desire taking over, when the moment is broken like delicate crystal on a tile floor.

“AJ, how was your…oh, I didn’t realize you had a visitor already.”

She pulls back quickly and stumbles into her desk. Her eyes are wide as she runs a shaky hand over her button-down shirt, in an effort to smooth away wrinkles that aren’t there. “Hi,” she gasps, her voice crazy-high and full of nerves.

“Randall,” he says with a bite, taking in our closeness and starting to do the math.

“Bryce, good to see you,” I say, leaning back against the chalkboard and crossing one tennis shoe covered ankle over the other. I put my hands into the pockets of my gym shorts, not even caring that my cock is unmistakably hard against my stomach. One pair of tight boxer briefs is the only thing keeping it from tenting my basketball shorts.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, his eyes volleying back between AJ and me.

“You didn’t,” she insists. “Sawyer just stopped by to see how my first day went,” she adds, turning her attention to me and noticing my pants. Her eyes do her best impression of a cartoon, bugging out of her head, as she quickly turns her full attention to Bryce. “How was your day?”

“Good, good,” he says, walking over to where she’s standing a few feet from me. He completely ignores my presence as he proceeds to tell her all about his day, including those students he feels will make great additions to her Honors Math class next year.

AJ tries to pull me into their conversation, which doesn’t seem to make the other man in the room happy. He looks tense every time I speak, which makes me smile inwardly a bit. He’s threatened by me, as well he should be. I’m not about to step aside and let him flirt and ask her out.

Fuck that.

And fuck him.

She’s mine.

She just doesn’t know it yet.