Page 22

When I said the school is down the street, I wasn’t lying. I can walk to it and I usually do. As I walk inside, I go to the office first as they don’t allow anyone to go to the classrooms without getting a pass to do so.

Charlotte, the sweetest and probably oldest staff member at the school, greets me with a smile. She pushes her thick-framed glasses she’s had since the seventies up her nose. “Good morning, Mrs. Jacob.”

I wave my hand around and adjust my purse on my shoulder. “It’s Aly, Charlotte. Please just call me Aly.”

I’ll stab the next person who calls me Mrs. Jacob.

Charlotte smiles tenderly and hands me a clipboard. “Just sign in and the classroom is in the second grade pod. Third door on the right.”

I do as she says and make my way out the doors and to the second grade pod. Since I went to this school, it looks entirely different, or at least that’s my memory of it. Maybe it’s the same and I’ve forgotten.

When I get to the third door on the right, there’s a sign on the door that reads: “Mr. Lucas 2ndGrade.” I’m not sure why, but it doesn’t click with me at this point. Do you know what’s coming? I bet you noticed the sign, didn’t you?

Maybe I don’t because I’m ready to knock Cash in the head for whatever he did that I’ve been called to the school on the first day.

I open the heavy metal door and notice the teacher sitting in the classroom at his desk, but no Cash.

The teacher’s hunched over and engrossed in papers. At first, I wasn’t sure how Cash would deal with having a male teacher, but I thought after the trouble he caused with Mrs. Lacey last year, having a male teacher might help him. Apparently not since he’s already in trouble within the first four hours of school.

Even when I enter, closing the door behind me, trying to grab his attention, the teacher doesn’t look up.

“Hello, Mr. Lucas. . . . I’m Aly. . . .” I don’t say Jacob because I don’t want to say my soon-to-be ex-husband’s last name. Briefly I wonder how hard it’d be to change the boys’ last name to my maiden name of Sprague. I wouldn’t do that to the boys though. They’ve been through enough.

“I’m Cash Jacob’s mom.” And here’s where I stop. Here’s where my world stops. Because that’s the minute the man with the tousled dark hair looks up and immediately relaxes back in his chair.

My heart summersaults in my chest, my breath hitching, a choked gasp.

Ridge.

I blink, trying to decipher the image in front of me.

And just like this morning, he still looks better than me in a lot of ways. He’s relaxed in his chair, long legs outstretched in front of him. Those bright dark eyes that displayed the warmth in his soul he refused to let anyone see or believe he had. His unruly black hair that’s clean cut on the sides. The perfect jawline. . . . Everything about his face is stunning as usual.

When I can respond, I’m not surprised to see the I-dare-you-to-say-anything-to-me expression on his face, much like the night he left that rainy summer night.

I hadn’t noticed what he was wearing earlier today, other than the tie, but I take a closer look. Black jeans, form-fitting, black Oxfords, a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and that gray tie I had wrapped around my fist as I called him a juvenile dipshit for being in my lane.

“I. . . uh. . . I’m Cash Jacob’s mom?” I repeat, unintentionally asking him a question, my throat closing up. Am I even breathing?

There’s a change in his expression as he regards me with unnerving silence. “You said that already,” he says, voice confident. He drags his eyes along the curves of my body, stopping at my chest, his tone amused. His gaze is focused on my face, then runs over my body again. And believe me when I say it’s the most attention I’ve had in months. I have to suck in a breath.

Goddamn, he looks good. Lean-muscled and all man. How’d Inotnotice this earlier? Oh right. Because I was about to rip his head off for almost running me off the road.

The years have been kinder to him than they’ve been to me. I bet he doesn’t have stretch marks and ten extra pounds I haven’t lost since I gave birth to the twins.

His eyes land on the door behind me before they level on my face, and my mind swims with thoughts. Most of them involving him fucking me on his desk.

Stop it. Stop. It!

Take a look at his face. His gaze tells me he knowsexactlywho I am now. He remembers me. What he said to me. He remembers everything about our last night together. We have history, memories, and he hasn’t forgotten them.

His eyes meet mine, and my stomach knots, a threat deep within his smirk.

My heart flutters in my chest, and an urgent need to fill the awkward silence takes over. “What are you doing here?” My voice sounds desperate. The words leave my mouth before I have the chance to swallow them.

I know why he’s in town. His father passed away, but why he’s a teacher at the school is what I should have asked.

Ridge chuckles and leans forward, his elbows resting on his thighs as he hangs his head. A second later he raises his face and meets my questioning stare. He watches me with an intensity that tingles and shivers, makes me blush and envision naughty thoughts on the desk again. One of me in a schoolgirl outfit and him spanking me with a ruler. Maybe tying me up with his tie?