Just This Once (The Kings)

I pressed a finger to my lower lip and closed my eyes, remembering the way Whip had kissed me in my parents’ driveway. Days later, I was still dazed from the kiss and had no idea how I had managed to drive back to my tiny apartment across town after being so thoroughly rocked.

Tell me to stop.

His charged words echoed in my mind as I counted, then recounted, the stack of still ungraded essays in front of me.

I wouldn’t have been able to stop him if I’d tried—my body would never have allowed it. Whip King ignited something bone-deep and feral inside me. It was like my feminine energy was screaming I know what his dick feels like and I need more of it!

I pressed a hand against the flutter that danced low in my belly. Desire entwined with hurt clouded my memory of his kiss.

It’s not worth it.

I ground my teeth together. How does a girl not take those words personally? Whip wasn’t the first man to say I wasn’t worth the effort. Still, the words were like a slap in the face, and anger burned in my cheeks.

I glanced at the clock, noting only a few short minutes until my students would come streaming in.

“Focus, Em.” I blew out a breath, acknowledging that my little pep talk was utterly useless. Ever since Whip pulled me against him and fervently kissed me—after he told me to beg for it—I couldn’t think of much else.

When the bell rang, the chatter of students floated down the hallway. I set the essays aside as I rounded my desk, determined to greet each student before he or she entered my classroom.

In addition to algebraic expressions and cultural context in literature, the bulk of my time at Outtatowner Junior High was spent building a community. Each student walked through my door with different strengths, and we worked together to honor and celebrate each other’s uniqueness.

As each student began finding their place in the social hierarchy of junior high, some days were a challenge. I greeted each of my students with a smile and cheerful “Good morning!” Most of the time I received smiles and mumbled greetings back, but the occasional scowl also helped me to understand the kind of morning each of my students was having.

As the last students walked down the hallway, I spotted Robbie Lambert trudging across the blue-and-white-checkered linoleum with his head hung low and a sad expression.

My heart sank.

The subtle shift in his attitude over the past few months had not gone unnoticed. His sweet and shy demeanor had slowly morphed into something withdrawn and sullen.

As he approached, I offered my sunny greeting, which he completely ignored.

Concerned, I gently placed my hand on his shoulder, but when he winced and ducked from beneath my touch, I quietly pulled my hand back.

“Hey, Robbie.” I kept my smile locked in place. “Everything okay?”

He paused, but his eyes stayed planted on his feet. “It’s fine.”

“Oh, okay.” My attention snagged on his shoes, whose white leather was stained and dingy. Parts of the upper were separating from the sole. I frowned. Just last week I had gifted Robbie a brand-new pair of sneakers.

My brows knit tighter. “Did the new tennis shoes not fit? We can figure something else out if⁠—”noveldrama

Robbie’s jerky movements as he flung his backpack off his shoulder stopped me midsentence. He unzipped his bag, pulling the new shoes from his backpack.

He shoved them toward me but still hadn’t looked me in the eye. “I can’t accept these.”

I carefully took the shoes from him. “Oh. Okay.”

I remembered how excited Robbie was when I had presented them to him one day after school.

I was sure to make it seem like the new shoes were just some extra pair of men’s shoes I happened to have lying around, when in fact I had specifically gone out and purchased them for him. During an after-school tutoring session, Robbie had made a self-deprecating comment about not having a decent pair. Kids his age were brutal, and his worn-out shoes hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Later, I casually mentioned that I found a random pair lying around that I planned to get rid of and he could take them if they fit. At the time, his eyes lit up, and his wide toothy smile had squeezed my heart.

He’d even leaned over and given me a quick hug before dropping to his butt in the middle of my classroom to put them on. This sudden one-eighty from him was concerning.

Robbie still hadn’t looked me in the eye. “I’m not a charity case.” He shouldered past me, leaving me stunned in the hallway.

I blinked away the sudden surge of emotion as I stared into the near-empty hallway. Walking with his secretary at his side, Principal Cartwright headed straight for my room. I swiped the moisture from my eyes and lifted my chin.

I perked up and gave him my attention. “Good morning, Mr. Cartwright.” I nodded at his secretary. “Miss Austin.”

The principal offered a flat-lipped nod. “Miss Ward. Miss Austin will look after your classroom for a few minutes. I need a word with you in my office.”

My heartbeat fluttered, but I kept my composure. “Of course.” I stepped aside to gesture toward my classroom. “Right this way, Miss Austin.”

Principal Cartwright waited at the entrance to my classroom while I briefly walked Miss Austin through our typical morning procedure, adjusting slightly for the fact someone other than myself would be opening today’s math lesson.

Once I was satisfied the children were in good hands, I met Principal Cartwright at the doorway. He nodded and together we made the silent, uncomfortable trudge from my end of the hallway to his office.

“I’ve got to say,” I started, laughing. “I can’t remember ever being called down to the principal’s office.”

My small chuckle was weak, and the joke landed flatly. Once at the doorway to his office, he gestured toward the small table and chairs. “Please have a seat, Miss Ward.”

“Emily, please.” I smiled up at him. My hands were jittery, so I clamped them together in my lap to maintain my composure.

Principal Cartwright sat across from me. I guessed he would have been around Whip’s age—older than me, sure, but by no means an old man. The stark contrast between the two men was almost laughable. The overhead fluorescent lighting illuminated the male pattern baldness on Principal Cartwright’s scalp and disappeared into the halo of hair that circled the back of his head.

He shifted in the chair. “I’m sorry to interrupt your morning routine, but I needed to speak with you about an incident that came to my attention this morning.”

“Oh?” I lifted my chin, proud that my voice was clear and strong.

“Is it true that you gave Robbie Lambert a brand-new pair of gym shoes?”

The angry, near-tears expression on Robbie’s face this morning flashed through my mind.

I took a quiet breath and steeled my spine. “I happened to have a pair of shoes in his size, and I offered them to him, which he accepted.”

Yes, not a total lie, but Principal Cartwright didn’t need to know that I had spent hours obsessing over whether the Nikes were on trend enough to purchase.

Principal Cartwright scribbled something on the notepad to his right. “I see. And have you purchased gifts for other students in your class?”

A tendril of panic seized my chest before calm settled over me. “I wouldn’t really call them a gift. His shoes are steps away from falling off his feet while he wears them. He needed new tennis shoes, and I happened to have a pair. I view it the same as if a student needed a new notebook or pencils. I wouldn’t refuse a child in need.”

More scratching and scribbling on his notebook. I wished I could read his chicken-scratch writing to know what the hell he was writing down.

He frowned. “But you agree that a brand-new pair of expensive tennis shoes is a bit different from a pencil. Do you not?”

My temper flared, but I tamped it down and took a calming breath. “‘Fair treatment doesn’t necessarily mean equal.’ That was the statement you made in the staff IEP training last month. Is it not?”

His upper lip twitched as I smiled sweetly across the cheap cherrywood table. He sat forward, his hands smoothing down the bulge of his belly. “Yes, I mean, we did discuss that . . . but that was in terms of students with special needs.”

I nodded. “I agree. And I also believe that Robbie had a unique and special need for footwear.” I smiled sweetly across the table. “I apologize if I had taken your presentation and its intent a bit too literally.”

Principal Cartwright let out an exasperated breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. A thrill of victory zipped through me. It wasn’t often someone could defeat calmly presented simple logic.

“Look, Mr. Lambert stormed into my office this morning, going on and on about how this school views his son and his family as a charity case. He threatened a discrimination case against us.” My brows furrowed and he continued: “I know, it doesn’t even make any sense, but he’s noisy, and I don’t need the headache. Do not go around me on this.”

I clenched my jaw. “I understand.” I almost added it won’t happen again but decided flat-out lying to my direct supervisor was probably a bad idea.

Principal Cartwright wrote one last scribble on his notepad. “Good. Thank you, Miss Ward.”

Dismissed and utterly pissed off at the entire situation, I stormed down the hallway to my classroom.

Abel’s Brewery stood proudly on the outskirts of town, hugging the rugged Lake Michigan coastline. After running with the Bluebirds’ idea of trivia night, MJ managed to convince her brother Abel to host the event, and when I’d made a visit to check the space out, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

The brewery itself was upscale, with the outside highlighting heavy wood and iron accents. The back wall, which faced the lake, was lined with glass garage-style doors that opened during the spring, summer, and fall months. The view was breathtaking. Firepits with cushy seating dotted the exterior. Inside, a large double-sided fireplace could add warmth during winter months. It was the perfect location for townies and tourists to spend money.

The response to the trivia night fundraiser had been overwhelming, and I was relieved when Abel assured me they could open the rolling doors on the side of the building to accommodate additional tables. Over the phone, Abel was efficient, if not a bit surly, and reminded me a touch of Whip’s aunt Bug.

It had taken me the better part of the week to shake off the conversation I’d had with Principal Cartwright. I hated feeling as though I had done something wrong, especially in the eyes of the principal who held the key to my future employment. Surely he wouldn’t be keen on hiring me full time if he didn’t feel like he could trust my judgment.

Still, I had only tried to do right by Robbie. The pained look in my student’s eyes still nagged me.

There had to be a better way.

My phone rang, and Rachel’s name flashed across the screen. I shook off my sour mood before answering.

“Are you there already?” She was frazzled.

I glanced at my watch, relieved I was earlier than planned. “I just pulled up. I’m going to make sure everything is ready and that the DJ is able to get set up. What’s going on?”

“I am having a crisis. I don’t know what to wear. I finally got the guts to ask Brooklyn on a date and figured trivia night would be the perfect opportunity. She agreed to be my plus-one.”

“I love that idea,” I responded. “Casual, but fun.”

“I think it’s a great first date, which brings me to my problem of having nothing to wear. What are you wearing?”

I glanced down at my own outfit and shrugged. “Jeans and a cute top.”

Rachel sighed. “Can you please be more specific? This is imperative.”

I smiled. “Fine. Ankle-cut distressed jeans with light-brown Western-style booties and a silky mushroom-colored camisole top. I couldn’t figure out my bra situation with the thin straps, so I opted to go without, but I brought a cardigan in case it gets chilly in there. I don’t need my nipples broadcasting the temperature of the brewery to the entire town.”

My over-the-top description earned a laugh from my friend. “Are you serious? No bra? I didn’t think you had it in you. I’m proud of you, kid.”

I laughed, glad the tension had eased out of her voice. “What can I say? I hate strapless. It was really just me being practical.”

Rachel’s hum buzzed over the phone. “Of course it was. Okay, I was thinking of going with a skirt, but since you’re going more casual, I think I’m going to do the same. But I need to hurry! She’s going to be here in a few minutes. Thanks, friend.” Rachel ended with a smacking kiss noise on the other end of the phone.

“Good luck and have fun!” I encouraged. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

I smiled as I ended the call and slipped my phone into my brown leather cross-body bag. I glanced around and noticed a few cars had already started to fill the parking lot. An excited giddiness hummed through me.

As expected, the Bluebirds had pulled through and helped generate more buzz for the fundraiser. I gave polite smiles to a few familiar faces as I entered the brewery and stepped inside. MJ had arrived before me and was barking orders with a smile. I headed straight toward her.

“Am I late?” I grinned at MJ. It wasn’t often someone beat me to an event.

“I didn’t have a shift at the nursing home today. I got bored, so I opted to come early and make sure Abel wasn’t terrorizing the staff.”

I softened. “It was so kind of him to let us host the fundraiser here.”

A crash startled us both, and we turned toward the bar. A blonde woman had dropped a glass, and it shattered across the pecan-colored wood floor. “Shit!”

“You good, Sloaney?” MJ asked.

The blonde’s head whipped up, and she blew a strand of hair from her face. “Yep. Just bobbled it.” She was wiping splatters of liquid off her jeans with a white rag.

MJ squeezed my arm as she moved past me. “I’ll find a broom.”

Sloane, a server who worked at Abel’s Brewery, laughed as she straightened. “Maybe try pulling the giant one out of Abel’s ass.”

MJ’s eyes floated over Sloane’s shoulder and went wide. In slow motion, Sloane turned to find her boss standing behind her with his arms crossed.

“I think I’ll start checking people in,” Sloane chirped and scurried away.

“I’ll be on cleanup duty,” MJ added with a laugh.

She bumped my elbow lightheartedly as she walked past in search of the broom.

I sized up Abel King. He had his brother beat in both height and bulk. There was a darker edge to him that hinted there was something a bit dangerous about him.

Never one to be intimidated, I smiled brightly and stuck out my hand. “Mr. King. I’m Emily Ward. I believe we spoke on the phone. I wanted to thank you in person for the use of your facility for our fundraiser.”

“It’s fine.” His voice was quiet yet commanding as he briefly shook my hand.

Oookay . . . apparently he was also a man of few words.

“Well, it was very generous of you to donate the space. The foundation would have happily rented it, but we appreciate it nonetheless.”

His hard eyes looked me over. “I said it’s fine. It’s for the kids, and extra traffic is always good for business.”

Silence and tension hung in the air. I opened my mouth to speak but was unable to come up with anything to move the conversation forward. I landed on “Great.”

Without so much as a nod, Abel turned and disappeared down a darkened hallway toward the back of the brewery.

“Don’t mind Abe,” MJ whispered from behind me, holding a broom. “There really is a good guy hiding beneath his gruff exterior.” She looked affectionately at her oldest brother and shrugged. “At least I think so.”

Her face scrunched, which broke the tension, and I laughed alongside her. MJ was funny and bubbly, and I felt a kinship developing between us.

It was kind of a shame I couldn’t stop thinking about her brother and whether he might show up to the fundraiser. It seemed as though the whole town might turn out, but despite scouring the list of names, Whip’s had not been one of them.

Refocusing, I smiled at MJ, who made quick work of sweeping up the broken glass. “Thanks for your help. I really couldn’t have pulled this off without you and the Bluebirds.”

She lifted her shoulders as if it were nothing at all to ask this of them. “It’s what we do. Oh shoot, my brother is my plus-one, and he just walked in. I’ve got to get him his bracelet. Be right back!”

My pulse quickened, and my eyes went wide as she moved past me. I didn’t actually know how many other King brothers there were, but I couldn’t risk turning around and seeing Whip for the first time since he kissed the fuck out of me in my parents’ driveway.

Instead, I chose the coward’s way out and found the DJ so we could get the fundraiser started.