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“Far worse—a much higher power. The wrath of another lover is peanuts by comparison.”
“Who?”
“Kayla.”
Jett moaned. “Shit. Because if we bed the teacher, and it goes badly, and she gets pissed with you…”
“We go to the top of Kayla’s shit list.”
Jett shook his head. “Fuck. I didn’t think about that.” He brightened a bit. “Still, we aren’t her fathers or anything, and I’m sure Tessa won’t take it out on Kayla if this thing implodes. What do you say? You want to go for what we want, or are you going to play it safe with guaranteed pussy?”
“I’m not interested in Sheila and wasn’t even before you pointed out she deserves better than me… or you.” Ronan scratched his chin. “The thing is, doesn’t Tessa deserve better than us?”
Jett’s confidence was back. “No, because the difference is we’re both into Tessa in a way neither of us is for Sheila. That makes all the difference, brother. Whether it lasts one night or a hundred years, we’ll treat Tessa like a queen because the spark is there.”
Ronan seemed to mull it over for a bit. “Yeah.”
“So yeah, you’re in, or yeah, you’re just putting me off to get me to shut up?”
“Yeah, why don’t you get back to work and let me do the same?”
With a chuckle, sure he knew his friend’s answer, Jett strolled across the garage to return to his bay. He knew he’d won over Ronan, even if his friend was too stubborn to admit it yet.
As Ronan plannedout the work, a vision of Kayla’s teacher came into his mind, distracting him. She was an impressive lady, and he was interested. But he wasn’t sure what to do. At forty, he was too old to want to make a fool of himself. They would be good in bed together, whether it was just him and her, or if it was him, her, and Jett. There was no question about that, but he sensed she was after more than that.
But how to approach her?
His only connection to this woman was their common interest in Kayla. Ms. Lee knew Kayla loved motorcycles and that he, Jett, and Kayla shared that fascination. Maybe that fascination was infectious. He and Kayla preached the gospel of the open road. Maybe her teacher would be willing to take a ride, to find out what the attraction was. Even if she wasn’t interested in him now, she might accept an invitation for a ride as a way to understand Kayla. Which, through his perverted logic, would give her a chance to get to know him and possibly understand why Kayla loved him. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He wished he had Jett’s easy way with women, but that had never been his style.
He knew so little about the woman. In fact, the main thing he knew about her was that he wanted to know more about her. He wanted to find out if what he instinctively felt really reflected some kind of mutual attraction.
Offering a ride was worth a shot.
The worst that could happen was that she’d say no. If she did, he’d manage to survive it.
Chapter 5
On Friday,with the promise of a weekend in the air, Tessa watched Donna make her usual run for the safety of her office the moment the harsh roar of Ronan and Jett’s motorcycles cut through the hubbub of children’s voices. “I have some paperwork to do,” she said before beating a hasty retreat.
Frustrated in not being able to find any reason to ban Ronan or Jett from the schoolyard, Donna couldn’t seem to bear how they were getting popular with many of the kids. The men neither encouraged them nor chased them away. They just talked to them, mostly answering questions about their motorcycles. Many of the questions they asked were just to confirm something that Kayla had told them, like how fast the bikes could go.
“There’s nothing to dig up on that one,” Donna had said with lips pursed in disapproval. “The longhaired hooligan, I mean.”
Tessa had struggled to hide her grin as she’d asked, “What about the shorthaired hooligan?” She’d done her best to keep any hint of mocking from her tone, since Donna was her boss.
Even Ronan’s parole officer hadn’t been willing to help Donna in her quest. “He said Ronan was a model citizen,” she’d said in a huff. She’d handed Tessa a sheet of paper. “Look at this. The man spent ten years in prison for murder. How is it that the authorities see no problem with him coming to a school, or bringing other riffraff with him?”
Tessa had scanned the page. “Well, it wasn’t murder, Mrs. Turnbull. He killed a man in a bar brawl and claims self-defense.”
“So he’s a murderer.”
“Not according to the Justice Department. What he is now, legally, is a reformed convict. He did his time. Even this report shows that he didn’t start the fight—it was more a matter of him using excessive force to defend himself. And it isn’t like he’s a sex offender or a drug dealer. If he’d been convicted of those, they’d make him stay away from all schools.”
“It makes me furious that we can’t have a say in this matter.”
Tessa had handed her back the paper. “Well, it certainly seems that you’ve done everything you can do.”
“Thank you,” she’d said primly.
