Anna
Oliver Lyon is the hottest fucking man on the face of the planet and I think I might have a huge, not-so-tiny, not-so-manageable crush on him. My consultation today was free, so I don’t need to stop in and see Joyce to pay for anything. I’m thinking that if I can make it downstairs without being too loud, I might be able to slip outside unnoticed, but once again, fate has other plans for me.
“Exploring the building?” Joyce says when Oliver and I reach the bottom stairs. She raises an eyebrow and smirks, letting me not-so-subtly know that she knows.
“You could say that,” I say. “But I call it fucking.”
Next to me, I feel Oliver tense, but Joyce bursts out laughing.
“All right, girl,” she offers me her fist and I bump it. “Get some.” She looks at Oliver. “Lyon,” she says. “Nice job. She looks very satisfied.” Then Joyce disappears down the hall.
“What the actual fuck?” Oliver whispers.
“What?”
“You just told her.”
“Like she didn’t know.”
“But you didn’t have to tell her.”
“I don’t do games and I don’t do bullshit, Oliver. You should know this about me. We’re both adults. Neither one of us is married. As far as I know, you don’t have a girlfriend or reason you wouldn’t be ‘allowed’ to sleep with me. It’s not a big deal. It was sex, and oh, it was good sex. Hot as hell, in my opinion. You bet your ass I’m telling all of my girlfriends about this.”
“Um, okay,” Oliver suddenly looks nervous. He’s not used to being around women who are blunt, I realize. Do women tend to sneak around when it comes to him? Do they use him? Is that what he’s worried about? And then it hits me: he’s a lawyer. He’s a big attorney in Bradshaw and he’s not going to want people to know what happened. He doesn’t need the womanizer reputation it would bring.
“Hey,” I smile. “Don’t worry. I would never tell anyone your name or any identifying details. I just mean I’ll tell my friends I slept with someone super incredible who taught me something new.”
“What did I teach you?”
“That bravery in bed can be very rewarding,” I lean up on my tippy-toes and give him a soft kiss goodbye. “Thank you, Oliver.”
“I should be thanking you.”
“If you really feel that way, you should take me to dinner.”
“Is that right?”
“You don’t strike me as the traditional type,” I tell him. “Do you think you should be the one to invite me out?”
“Not at all. Dinner sounds delicious,” he sounds amused.
“You have my number,” I tell him. “Call me. We’ll set something up.”
Then, before anything else crazy happens, before I find myself back upstairs in Oliver’s bed and in his arms, I turn and walk out the door. I don’t look back. I just walk away and head to my car, start the engine, and leave.
I leave the law offices of Casa, Fee, and Lyon, and I drive to work.
The whole time, I’m just thinking that I’m in so over my head.
So over my head.
*
I work halfway between my house and Lyon’s office. The language school I work at offers beginner, intermediate, and advanced level classes for students who want to learn a foreign language. We teach both children and adults, but since I don’t teach until the afternoon, my morning schedule is totally flexible. This means that when I pull in late to the office, no one cares or notices. Everyone else runs errands in the morning, too.
After stopping by my desk in the shared office, I pour myself a cup of coffee and try not to think about my morning too much. Spending time with Oliver was fantastic. No, we didn’t do a lot of talking, but neither one of us seemed to need that right now. I think what we both needed was to blow off a little steam and as far as I’m concerned, we got to do that and it was incredible.
It was more than incredible.
It was hot.
Fantastic.
Dirty.
It was wild, and even though he pushed me and asked me to try some new things, I still felt like I was in control. If there’s one thing I haven’t felt in awhile, it’s control. My whole world has been spinning since my mom died and I don’t think it’s going to slow down anytime soon.
No, I think things are going to get crazier and crazier for me unless Oliver can actually convince a judge I shouldn’t have to get married to someone I don’t love. If he can’t do it, I’m going to have to get on Turntable and find a guy. I’m going to have to find someone who is not only bearable to hang out with, but who’s a shifter. I’m going to have to find someone who’s willing to be married to me for a year and then get a quiet divorce.
And the thing about shifters is that they tend to mate for life.
Finding someone to marry me is going to be hard, but someone willing to get a divorce? That’s going to be even tougher, and the truth is that the idea of getting a divorce still makes me uncomfortable. It’s not that I would feel like I was using someone, even though that’s totally the case. It’s more that I really do have a fairytale view of marriage. It’s that I really do think you should marry someone and it should be forever.
“Rough morning?” I jump at the sound of Rita’s voice. “Sorry, thought you saw me,” she says, coming up beside me and pouring herself a cup of the questionable brown liquid. Oh, it’s coffee. Sort of. Who knows how old it is, though? I need to start doing what the Spanish teachers do and bring my own coffee from home. That’s what travel mugs are for.
“I just had some errands to do,” I tell the redhead. Rita is one of the administrators at our school. Advantage Language Mentors offers one of the best language programs in Kansas. Our students come from not only Bradshaw, but from surrounding towns, as well, in order to learn the language of their choice.
“You teaching today?”
“Not until after lunch.”
“Same,” she says, sipping her coffee. “But I have a ton of lesson plans to finish before then.” Even though Rita is an admin, she’s substituting this week because one of the teachers recently quit and hasn’t been replaced.
“Things have been pretty busy lately.”
“We need to replace Brian as quickly as possible,” Rita confides in me. “After he quit, everything kind of went to hell in the French department.”
“Well, the school’s pretty lucky you know enough French to teach the beginner classes.”
“You’re telling me,” she rolls her eyes. “I tell you what, Anna, no one ever truly appreciates us.” She shakes her head. “Not the students, not the parents, and certainly the other teachers.” She sighs. “Sorry, I’m just being negative because I’m tired.”
“No, it’s totally fine,” I smile. “I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes this job totally sucks because we don’t get a lot of praise. The students come in and haven’t finished their homework or don’t know the vocabulary for the week, and it sucks. We push and push and push and there’s very little thanks in this job.”
“How do you do it?” She asks, leaning in and lowering her voice, like it’s a secret. “You’re one of the best language instructors we have.”
“Well, when things get hard, I just try to remember why I learned American Sign Language. My best friend in high school was deaf and instead of texting her all the time, I wanted to learn her language. I started taking classes my junior year and majoring in ASL in college just seemed natural. So when my students don’t know something, or they’re struggling, I try to remember that I didn’t start teaching in order to be praised. I started teaching because I love the language so much.”
“I’m not going to lie, Anna. I’ve never really felt that way about French.” Rita shrugs. “I mean, I can speak it pretty damn well and I’ve been all over Quebec and Paris, but I don’t have the joy you seem to have.”
“Not everyone is meant to be teaching,” I tell her honestly. “And that’s fine. Maybe teaching isn’t your thing. Maybe you prefer to be on the paperwork end of things. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Thank you. I’ve been feeling really overwhelmed with everything this week, you know, and I appreciate that. It’s nice to know that not everyone thinks I’m a huge failure for not enjoying teaching.”
“I don’t think anyone thinks you’re a failure.”
“You’d be surprised. Hey, do you think this coffee is from today?”
“Fuck,” I look down at the grime in my mug. “I sure hope so, Rita. I sure hope so.”