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Timmy muttered, “Why?”
I wanted to hug the curious boy for asking the question that was on my mind, but I was too busy glaring at Stacy for her hissed, “I don’t get it. Why in the world would someone as hot as him want Layla’s number, let alone take the time to find her? She’s so…”
Melissa elbowed Stacy in the side with a whispered, “Shh, there are still students here.”
“Whatever.” Stacy rolled her eyes. “Like I really care when I’m not even coming back next year. I got a job at Henderson Academy, which is so much better than this place. As soon as my classroom is cleaned up, I’m out of here for good.”
I had a feeling she wasn’t talking about the higher pay and benefits at the private school, but instead the bank accounts of the men who sent their children there. My nose wrinkled as I pressed my lips together to stop myself from saying something that I would regret.
“So damn cute,” Roman murmured, his gaze locked on my face.
“Miss Holmes.” Timmy tugged on my hand, dragging my attention away from Roman. “We’re not s'posed to talk to strangers. Remember? You taught us dat.”
I smiled down at the boy. “I don’t know him very well, but Roman isn’t a stranger. We’ve met once before.”
“Oh.” He slipped his sucker back in his mouth.
“I’m hoping to make up for lost time since it’s already been a week.”
“Make up for lost time?” Stacy echoed with a screech. “The guy is in a freaking MC, and she’s a boring kindergarten teacher. Seriously, what does he want with her?”
Melissa slapped her palm over the other teacher’s mouth and dragged her away. I was just about to apologize for her behavior when Timmy echoed her last words. “What do you want with my teacher?”
There was no missing the thread of possessiveness in Timmy’s voice as he glared up at Roman.
“Well,” the sexy biker crouched so he was eye-to-eye with my student, “I was hoping I could talk her into going to dinner with me tonight.”
“What kinda dinner?” Timmy asked.
“Anything she wants,” Roman replied, tilting his head back to flash me a panty-melting grin. “Something you should know for when you’re older…you only have one chance at a first date. So you gotta do it right if you want to impress your girl.”
“Eww, girls are gross.” Timmy looked up at me. “But not you, Miss Holmes. You’re awesome.”
Roman chuckled as he straightened. “Gotta agree with you on that, little man.”
Timmy’s mom’s car finally pulled up next to us. As I led him over to the rear passenger door, he turned to look at Roman again before nodding. “She likes cheese pizza da best.”
As Timmy’s mom’s car pulled away, Roman and I were the last two people standing on the sidewalk. He moved closer and murmured, “I was hoping to take you somewhere that would impress you, but if pizza is your favorite food, I’m down for that instead.”
His confidence and good humor only made him more attractive, but I had a feeling that if I gave him an inch, he’d take a mile. Just like my most precocious students. “I don’t remember accepting your invitation. Or you even asking me, for that matter.”
Roman grinned at me. “Now that I’ve got the kid’s okay, will you go out with me?”
“For dinner? Tonight?”
He nodded. “No time like the present.”
I glanced down at my outfit with a grimace. Since the last day of school was hectic, the dress code was lifted and I’d worn jeans and a cute purple sweatshirt with tennis shoes—albeit really awesome ones that were pink and glittery with flowers embroidered to look like they were growing up from the soles, and silky, pale green ribbons for the laces. “I’m not exactly dressed for a date.”
“Trust me, beautiful. You’ll outshine everyone else at the restaurant, no matter where we go or what you’re wearing.” He twirled a lock of my hair around his finger. “That’s why that catty chick was so bitchy about you. Pure jealousy because you’re everything she’s not.”
I pressed my lips together and shuffled my feet. “I’m pretty sure you’re wrong about that since she’s gorgeous.”
His eyes darkened to a deeper shade of brown as he shifted his finger to press against the underside of my chin so I couldn’t escape his gaze as he muttered, “Which one of us has a dick?”
“You,” I sputtered with a laugh.
“Which means I’m the one who knows that you make me hard as a fucking rock without even trying.” He dropped his hand down to adjust himself, and there was no denying he was telling the truth based on the bulge in his jeans. “But she could’ve stripped completely naked, and I wouldn’t have even noticed.”
His statement was more blunt than romantic, but it still had butterflies swarming in my belly. “You seem to have an answer for everything.”
