“Got it. I’ll be sure to pick up extra-small bananas for that day. The smallest they sell. Will that appease your concerns about their precious male egos?”
“Definitely.” His forehead creases. “And are you going to be demonstrating this? Because I think I need to attend this class—”
“Okay, we’re done now. I’m sure I have mature parents waiting for me outside,” I scold, but I can’t help the smile. It feels good to be joking around—and flirting—with Shane again.
“Fine.” He heaves himself off the desk to loom over me, a hint of his spicy cologne teasing my nostrils, a devilish glint in his eye. “I’ll just ask the rest of my questions during the session.”
Oh God. All semblance of calm evaporates. “Don’t you dare!” Shane loved to tease me mercilessly when we were younger. Granted, it usually involved pinning me down to tickle me, which turned into a heavy make-out session.
“What do you mean?” he asks with faux innocence.
“Don’t, Shane,” I warn in as serious a tone as I can muster. Even the thought of standing up in front of my students’ parents and fielding sex-ed questions from him makes me queasy. He wouldn’t be embarrassed to ask, either. The guy poses half-naked in calendars and struts his stuff on stage, for fuck’s sake.
“What? I can’t even mention the bananas?”
I burst out with laughter. “No!”
His face splits into a wide grin. “I love getting a rise out of you.”
“You’re worse than Justine.” On impulse, I reach out to give his chest a playful shove.
He catches my hand on contact, holding it against his hard body for a few beats—letting me feel his heat beneath my palm and the strength within his fingers—before releasing it.
I pull away, instantly missing the contact.
“That one doesn’t have a filter, does she?”
“Justine? No, she doesn’t. And please don’t, Shane. This is my first curriculum night. I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of parents.” Especially in front of Penelope.
“Fine.” He sighs heavily, as if he’s being put out. “Tell you what, I won’t ask those questions, if you’ll forgive me for not being smart enough to turn down dinner with Susie in the first place.” The sincerity in his expression threatens to weaken my knees.
“You’re forgiven.” The truth is, I think I forgave him the second he confessed to not kissing her. Also, I was angling to sleep with his best friend last Friday. On the list of stupid moves, my name comes up at least once.
“And agree to dinner with me.”
That request catches me off guard. Is this why Shane came so early? To trap me and then ask me out when I’m nervous and not thinking straight? Clever man.
“Just dinner.” He holds his hands in the air in a sign of surrender. “That’s all. Just one dinner. Just give me one chance. A real chance.”
Nerves stir in my stomach. This is what I wished for last night, a paint roller in hand, full of regret over how hard I’d held on to our ugly past. “When?”
“Whenever. I’ve got Cody this weekend, but we’ll figure it out.” He waits expectantly for my answer.
“And what if I say no?” I ask on a whim, swallowing the urge to blurt out yes as I try to maintain some semblance of calm that Shane’s presence always challenges.
“Then get ready for all kinds of questions about penis sizes, G-spots, female orgasms—”
“Fine! Oh my God. Stop!” I struggle to smother my beaming smile so I don’t look too eager. “Dinner. Whenever. But just dinner.”
“I don’t believe it!” His shoulders sag with his deep exhale. “After all these years, Scarlet Reed has finally forgiven me.”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t go that far,” I say wryly. “I’m just giving you a pass on your latest bonehead move.”
He steps into my personal space. “What’s it going to take for me to get blanket forgiveness for all past sins?” I hold my breath as he reaches for a strand of my hair, toying with it between his fingers. “Because the way you kissed me last Friday night made me think we were good.”
I struggle to ignore the electric current coursing through my body. “You’ll have to work a lot harder than that.”
“Well, you know me.” He leans in slightly, almost as if testing the waters for a kiss. “I’ve always loved a challenge.” The words graze my lips and my mouth parts of its own accord, anticipating his.
The orientation session.
Dammit.
“We can’t do this right now,” I whisper in a pleading, almost hysterical tone. I have a herd of parents about to descend upon me.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” His fingers release the strand of hair. Ever so gently, he fixes the collar of my blouse. “Later?” When his warm eyes lift to meet mine again, they’re full of heat and promise.
“Uh-huh,” I mumble absently, caught in the flecks of gold in his irises. Just dinner, my ass. How the hell am I going to get through this presentation? I’m about to ask Shane to leave, to not attend his son’s session, when a glint of movement catches the corner of my eye. “I should go open the—” My words cut off in a croak.