His Curvy Attraction Read online

  “Why don’t you wait to you see her first?” he says with a grin. “You might change your mind.”

  Before I can respond, he turns and heads back to the table. I follow slowly behind. I can see the back of the other woman, and I’m reluctant to join the table.

  Joe goes around to the other side of the table, leaving me the empty stool next to her. As I pull it out, she turns to me and I catch my breath. It’s her. The substitute teacher.

  Her eyes widen in surprise when she sees me. She’s ditched the green cardigan and flowing skirt for tight leather jeans and a black sweater. It shows off her curves in a bold, confident way.

  “Miss Holt,” I say. “Nice to see you out of your work clothes.”

  “You know Cassie already?” says Joe.

  “We’ve met,” she says.

  “I need a drink,” says Sian. “Joe, come to the bar with me.”

  I cringe at the awkward ruse to get us alone. Cassie seems to find it amusing. A faint smile plays on her lips.

  “Not subtle at all,” she says.

  “Look,” I say, “I’m sure you’re a great girl.” Her eyebrows go up, and she looks at me expectant and amused. “My brother’s always trying to set me up with someone, but the truth is that I’m not looking for anything right now.”

  Cassie smiles. “That’s a relief.”

  “It is?”

  “I’m not looking for anything either. Sian hijacked me. I thought we were going out just the two of us. It wasn’t until we got here that she told me she had a blind date planned.”

  I cringe at the words.

  “I like my single life,’ she continues, ‘but my well-meaning friends seem to think everyone wants to be coupled up.”

  I nod. “So we can agree. This isn’t a blind date.”

  “Absolutely it isn’t.”

  I hold out my beer, and she clinks the glass with her drink. I feel my shoulders relax.

  “So, now we know where we stand. Where are you from?”

  She laughs. “That sounds very much like a date question.”

  “Does it?” I laugh. “Okay, not a date question, just generally curious because this is a small town, and we don’t get many new faces coming through.”

  “Did you grow up here?” she asks.

  “Lived here all my life.”

  She takes a sip of her drink. “I lived here ‘til I was nine.”

  I frown. “What school did you go to?”

  “Same one I’m teaching at.”

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Well, so did I. I would have been ahead of you, I’m guessing, by a good few years. But you might remember one of my little brothers. Sammy or Finn Adams?”

  Her face lights up. “Always getting into trouble.”

  “That’s them.”

  “They used to drive my mother mad.” She looks down quickly. “She was a teacher. At the same school.”

  The smile drops off my face as the realization hits me. “Mrs. Holt?” Cassie nods. “I’m so sorry.” Her passing was big news when I was a kid. She taught me in first grade and had all of my brothers too.

  Cassie looks up and smiles. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

  A thought occurs to me. “It must be hard coming back here.”

  “Yeah. I’ve worked in almost every school in the county, but this is the first time I’ve been back.”

  She takes a sip of her drink and stares out across the room. “It was only because Tricia begged me. She used to be friendly with my mom. They used to ride together back in the day.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “Mrs. Harper used to ride?” I can’t imagine the stiff principal on a motor bike.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s how Mom met my dad, through Tricia’s connections.”

  I shake my head in disbelief, trying to picture the stern principal tearing it up on a bike.

  “How about your father?” I ask.

  “He was a member of the Open Roadsters Motorcycle Club.”

  “I know them.”

  “Most people do. But he gave it all up for Mom. After she died, he went back to the club and took me with him. It was like having a big extended family.”

  She smiles at the memory. “We were always on the road, so I was home-schooled with the other kids in the club until I was old enough to help teach the younger kids. That’s when I knew I wanted to be a teacher. I had the calling, just like Mom.”

  “But why substitute teaching?”

  She smiles. “Because I like to roam. It’s in my blood. We never stayed in one place for long. It’s what I’ve grown up with and what I know.”

  I take a long drink and look out over the bar.

  “Don’t you get lonely?” It’s a personal question, and she stiffens a little. “I have friends all over the place. I have freedom. What more could a girl want?”

  Stability, community, a home, I think to myself. Instead I shrug and ask her about her bike.

  As she talks, I find my eyes drawn to her mouth and the way it turns up at the corners, like she’s always half-smiling.

  We talk easily, and I tell her about my late wife, Shona, and she tells me about her Dad passing last year. It seems we’ve had a lot of loss between us. But I don’t get pity from her, which is a relief. It’s more curiosity.

  Before I know it, it’s 11 p.m. and the bar’s almost empty. As I drive home, I can’t help thinking that that was the best non-date I’ve had in years.

  Chapter Four

  Cassie

  My mind’s racing when I get back to my place. I’m house sitting for a friend of my father’s.

  I let my membership with the Open Roadsters lapse after Dad died, but their networks are vast, and they always look out for me. It’s as if I’m still a little girl and not a fully grown, independent woman.

  The last few hours have flown by drinking non-alcoholic beer with Nick. The conversation flowed, and I laughed easily. I haven’t felt so free in years.

  Too bad my gig’s only ‘til the end of the week. I know Nick said he’s not looking for anything, but no one can deny the chemistry between us.

  I glance over to the urn on top of the mantelpiece.

  “What do you think, Daddy?” I say. “Is he good enough for your little girl?”

  Of course there’s no response, but I smile to myself remembering what would happen anytime I brought a guy around to meet Dad.

  He didn’t even need to say anything to scare the life out of them. They’d take one look at his tattooed arms, leather pants, and club badge, and they’d go running.

  I used to pray that one of them would see through his tough guy act, get past their fear and know my dad for the loving soul that he was. But they would all make excuses not to see me after meeting him.

  It always disappointed me. Not that he’d scared them away, but that they didn’t like me enough to brave him. He was my litmus test to determine what kind of men they were, and none of them ever shaped up.

  “I wish you were here now,” I say. “I’d like you to meet Nick.” I’m met with the silence of the house.

  I carry his ashes with me everywhere. Dad loved being on the road, and this is the best I can do for him. I take him with me as I move from place to place. It fuels my restlessness until sometimes I’m not sure if I’m moving to keep me happy or for him.

  “Goodnight, Daddy.” I turn out the light and head off to bed.

  Chapter Five

  Nick

  I pull up to the school the following afternoon and park my bike next to Cassie’s. There’s a nervous lump sitting in my chest, and I swallow it down. It was great talking to her last night, and my body’s anticipating seeing her again.

  The bell rings and the playground’s suddenly swarming with children. Olivia comes running over holding hands with one of her friends.

  “Can I go play at Lyra’s today?” she asks. “Please, Dad.”

  “If it’s okay with Lyra’s parents.”

  I spot Lyra’s mom getting out of her S
UV and head over. She’s happy to have Olivia for the afternoon, and I make arrangements to pick her up in a couple of hours. The two girls giggle excitedly as they jump into the backseat.

  I’m heading back to my bike when Cassie comes out of the classroom. She stops when she sees me, and for a moment my world fades to nothing.

  Her hair is pulled back, and there are stray, wispy bits flying all around her face like a halo. She smiles at me, and her whole face lights up. My heart starts to beat again, and before I know what I’m doing I’m going over to her, drawn to her.

  “You finished for the day?” I ask.

  She nods. “That’s the great think about being a substitute teacher. No lessons to prep.”

  “You wanna grab a coffee?”

  She frowns slightly. “Don’t you have a child to look after?”

  “Not for a couple of hours. So I’m free.”

  “Sure.”

  I can’t help smiling even as my brain is telling me this isn’t a great idea.

  “There’s a great little cafe just out of town. It’s a nice ride.”

  She follows me on her bike down tree-lined country roads until we get to the Sawmill Cafe. It’s nestled amongst the trees, and the parking lot is a starting point to some good walks in the area.

  We order our drinks and sit outside under a large sycamore tree. We chat for a while, talking about our days, the conversation flowing easily.

  “This is a beautiful spot,” she says, looking out over the trees.

  “Yeah, it can get busy with tourists. They come to see the waterfall.”

  “I’d like to see it.” She pushes her chair back.

  “What, now?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  I knock back my coffee and follow her to the start of the path. It’s been raining lightly, and the path’s churned up with mud.

  “I hope you don’t mind getting your boots dirty.” I extend my hand to help her over the mud, and she takes it. Her hand is warm in mine, and waves of heat tingle up my arm. She leans on me as she jumps over to firmer ground. Reluctantly, I release her hand.

  We chat easily as we cover the short walk to the waterfall. The good thing about the recent rain is that it’s kept the tourists away. We don’t pass another soul on the track, and when we get to the waterfall, we have the viewing platform all to ourselves.

  We lean out over the railing, watching the water cascade over the rocks. A soft spray comes up, leaving the air misty. She turns so her back is against the railing and to the waterfall. The afternoon sun glints through the trees, and for a moment she looks like some kind of wood elf, blonde hair almost transparent in the sunlight.

  “This must have been a beautiful spot to grow up.”

  I nod. “It was. I’m surprised you don’t remember it.”

  “I think I must have blocked it out. I don’t remember much before Mom died.” She turns back to look at the waterfall. She looks vulnerable all of a sudden, lost.

  I reach out and put my hand on her shoulder. “It must have been hard.” She nods and turns toward me. She’s so close I can smell her perfume.

  Without thinking, I lean in and press my lips to hers. They’re soft and full and she parts them, letting my tongue push into hers. The roar of the waterfall fills my head as the mist swirls around us. Her citrus perfume combines with the smell of fresh forest after the rain. For a moment there’s nothing else in the world but her soft lips and fresh scent.

  Then the sound of voices pulls me back to reality. We jump apart as a family crashes along the path to join us on the viewing platform.

  Feeling like a guilty teenager, I try to catch Cassie’s eye. But she’s looking down, avoiding my gaze.

  “I need to get back,” she says.

  The soft vulnerability of the moment before has been replaced by a hardness.

  We walk back to the bikes in silence. I try to engage her in conversation, but she maintains a polite coolness.

  As I watch her drive away, I wonder what the hell I did wrong. I could have sworn there was chemistry between us. Maybe I’m out of practice. It’s been so long since I was interested in a woman that I must have read the signals wrong. Feeling like a fool, I drive back home.

  Later that night, with Olivia tucked into bed, I pull out the photo album that Shona put together for Olivia before she died.

  There are pictures of us together when she was pregnant, her round belly almost as big as her happy smile.

  I flick through baby photos taken at the hospital when Olivia was born and of Olivia as a newborn, sleeping next to a tired Shona on the couch. Shona and Oliva at the park, at Joe’s place. Olivia’s first Christmas.

  We always look so happy, with no idea of what was to come. Shona looks tired, but we thought that was the strain of having a newborn to look after.

  It wasn’t until Olivia was a year old and finally sleeping through the night that Shona thought to go to the doctor. By then the cancer had spread, starting in her stomach and spreading through her vital organs.

  We spent the next twelve months in and out of the hospital, desperately trying to stop its relentless march.

  She passed away a few weeks after Olivia’s second birthday. The last photo in the album is Shona, thin from the battle and with a scarf wrapped around her head, but still smiling as she serves Olivia her birthday cake.

  We had a lot of time to talk about what was coming, and she kept telling me she wanted me to meet someone else eventually, to move on. I always shook my head and told her I’d never find someone to replace her.

  “I don’t want you to replace me,” she’d said. “But I want you to be happy, and Olivia will need a mother.”

  At the time, I couldn’t ever imagine loving anyone else. Now, looking back through the album, I smile fondly at the memories.

  “I think I’ve met someone,” I whisper. Her smile shines out at me, and I feel a peace in my heart.

  Then go get her, I can imagine her saying to me.

  There will always be a place in my heart for Shona, but for the first time I feel like just maybe there’s room for someone else too.

  Chapter Six

  Cassie

  The next day is Saturday, and I’m finishing up breakfast when I hear the distinctive roar of a bike breaking the still morning air. Nick’s pulling into the driveway.

  I smooth my hair down and try to calm my thundering heart.

  When he kissed me yesterday, I wanted nothing more than to kiss him back. But instead I ran from him, and I’m still not entirely sure why.

  I pull the door open before he can knock.

  “Morning.” I resist the urge to run my hands through his tousled hair as he pulls off his helmet.

  “Can I come in?”

  I lead him into the kitchen and start making coffee.

  “Sorry about the early visit. I had to see you.”

  My heart jumps in my throat, and I almost drop the coffee cup.

  “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he continues. “I must have read the situation wrong.”

  I pour the coffee. “Oh no, you read it right.”

  He visibly relaxes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone I actually liked. Not since my wife died.”

  I nod. “It can’t have been easy.”

  “No. Especially with my brothers trying to set me up with every single woman in town.”

  “And none of them caught your interest?”

  He shakes his head. “For a long time I was grieving. Then I felt like it would be a betrayal.”

  He takes a step toward me. I can smell his soap mixed with coffee. “But now it feels right.” He reaches up a hand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

  His touch sends a shiver through me, and when he leans in, I’m ready for his kiss. His lips press into mine, firm and insistent. My whole body reacts, instinctively pressing into him, while my mind is screaming at me to stop. I let my body win for a few moments before pulling away.

  The look he give
s me is pure confusion.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, taking a step back. “I can’t get involved with you.”

  His face drops into a frown, and for a moment all I want to do is kiss him again.

  “I’m leaving at the end of next week,” I tell him. “My assignment’s almost finished. Then I’ll be gone.”

  “Can’t you stay in the area?” He wraps an arm around my waist, and it’s so casual, so natural that for a moment I have a flash of how it could be coming home every night to this strong man’s embrace. I shake the thought from my head.

  “No,” I tell him. “It’s what I do. I move on.”

  He keeps his arm around my waist. “I don’t care. You’re the first woman I’ve wanted in years.”

  “Well, I do care.” I pull myself out of his arms. “Yes, I admit there’s chemistry between us, and I’d like nothing more than to rip off your shirt and see where that leads us.”

  He raises his eyebrows at me. “I’m pretty sure I know where that will lead us.”

  I smile at him but shake my head. “I’m sure we’d have a lovely week together, but then I’d leave. It would be over.”

  I see him processing, but I keep talking. “You’re putting yourself out there for the first time since your wife passed away. It shouldn’t be with someone who’s guaranteed to leave.”

  “Then don’t leave.”

  “That’s out of the question.”

  He sighs and picks up his helmet. “You can’t run forever, Cassie. Sooner or later you need to realize that your parents aren’t who you are, and you don’t need to keep running from them.”

  He picks up his helmet and heads out the door.

  I’m still mulling over what he said when my phone rings. It’s Tricia.

  “Cassie, sorry to bother you on a Saturday.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’ve just heard from Julie; she’s not coming back from maternity leave.”