Page 9 of Mr. Infuriating (Mister #1)

Gretchen

“Oh. My God!” Laura squealed once Derrick and Gabriel disappeared down a hall at the end of the bar. “He is so hot! And he was totally checking you out.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Uh, yeah, he was.”

A small smile escaped my lips, and I whispered, “He was, wasn’t he? I thought maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part.”

“No, babe. That man was looking at you like you’re a snack, and he’s starving! I’m pretty sure he was envisioning peeling off these cute jeans you’ve got on.”

The feeling was mutual.

Still, I shook my head.

“He’s probably a player like his brother.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t think I could have a one-night stand.”

Laura grabbed my arms and turned me on the barstool, so I was looking at her directly.

“You haven’t had sex in over a year. You owe it to yourself to have a freaking fling! If not for you, then for your poor neglected vajayjay.”

“It’s not that neglected,” I grumbled as I spun back to face the bar and pick up my drink. “I have toys.”

“Toys are no substitute for the real thing.”

I let out a sigh. “No, probably not. ”

“Exactly. Now, go into the bathroom, push your boobs up, put on some lipstick, and when you come back out here, you better be ready to get your flirt on.”

I looked at her with pursed lips, and she gestured to the restrooms and barked, “Go!”

Reluctantly, I moved off the barstool and grabbed my handbag with my lipstick in it.

“Fine. But I’m not having a one-night stand.”

“Oh yes you are! When he wants to take you home tonight and do dirty, dirty things to you, you’re going to say yes!”

“I might be willing to give him my number, but I’m not going home with him.”

“We’ll see,” she said with a smirk. “I’ll order you another drink when Derrick gets back.”

I can’t go home with a stranger , I thought as I made my way to the ladies’ room.

But if you get to know him tonight, he won’t be a stranger , the devil on my shoulder reasoned as I pushed the bathroom door open.

I’m a teacher! A role model!

The little tipsy bastard on my shoulder wouldn’t shut up. You’re also a woman with needs. And that man is hot. You’d be a fool to turn him down.

I mean, it was hard to argue with that logic.

I doubt he’s even attracted to me, I told myself as I pulled the lipstick out and applied a fresh coat. He’s probably just a giant flirt like his brother but isn’t really interested. It’s all just harmless fun.

Harmless fun. Yeah, I was going with that, I decided as I reached inside my bra and pushed my boobs up so my cleavage was on-point.

After the month I’d been having, I deserved a little alcohol-infused, harmless fun.

****

Gabe

Gretchen’s barstool was empty when Derrick and I walked back into the bar, and for a second, I felt disappointed, thinking she’d left.

But her friend was still there, and Dan—Derrick’s full-time bartender—set a fresh martini glass filled with some pink concoction in front of Gretchen’s seat next to my half-empty beer mug.

“Is it your mom’s birthday?” Laura asked when I sat down.

I blinked at her. “What?”

“The card, for your mom that you needed to sign. Is it her birthday?”

“Yeah, it’s coming up.”

In two months.

Didn’t everyone get a card for their mom’s June birthday in April?

“Where’d your friend go?” Derrick asked from the other side of the bar.

“Gretchen, right?” I asked.

If I was going to play dumb about who she was, I was going to try and sell it.

Laura smirked, like she wasn’t buying my sales job.

“Yeah, Gretchen. ”

“Derrick said she just went through a divorce?”

“It was finalized a few weeks ago.” Before I even asked, she offered, “And she’s not seeing anyone.”

“I’m surprised. It seems like men would be lining up to date a beautiful woman like her.”

“Are you angling to cut to the front of the line?”

I chuckled at her bluntness.

“I don’t think I’d have much to offer.”

“Maybe she’s not looking for anything more than a good time.”

That got my attention, but I quickly gave myself an internal shake. It was one thing to flirt with her at a bar while withholding who I was. It’d be another to take her home and do the things I’d been thinking about without coming clean.

Her feisty texts earlier today had made my dick move. Probably not the reaction she’d been shooting for.

I noticed Gretchen walking toward us and tried not to stare. It looked like she’d fluffed her hair and reapplied her lipstick, and I had a sudden urge to kiss it off her.

Laura should not have told me Gretchen was only looking for a good time. Now that’s all I was going to think about as the beautiful woman sat next to me.

I greeted her with a smile. “There you are.”

She returned my smile. It reminded me of the time in the showroom when she’d smiled at her husband, and I had let myself imagine it was me she was looking at like that.

“Here I am.”

“I got you another drink,” Laura said as Gretchen perched on the barstool, giving me the perfect view of her peak-a-boo cleavage teasing me .

Fuck, she had perfect tits.

I glanced up and found Derrick grinning at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking. He nodded toward my beer.

“You ready for another?”

“Nah, not yet.”

My brother pulled glasses from a green rack that looked like they’d just come out of a dishwasher and lined them up along the bar.

“Where do you teach at?” he asked Gretchen.

“Lancastle Middle.”

Fuck.

I tilted my head and asked, “What do you teach?”

“Seventh grade English.”

“My worst subject,” Derrick said with a laugh. “Isn’t it ironic that I did better in Spanish than my own native language?”

As she explained why that was normal for a lot of people, I subtly pulled my phone from my pocket and fired off a text to Brayden.

Me: Who’s your English teacher?

Brayden: Mr. Wetherbee. Why?

Me: I was just curious. I met Ms. Wainwright and thought maybe she had you in class.

Brayden: I wish! Maybe my grade would be higher if I were in her class. She’s so nice.

Not to mention hot.

But you probably had to be older than thirteen to appreciate her sex appeal. That was undoubtedly a good thing, considering some of the stories in the papers these days.

Me: She’s pretty, too.

Brayden: Yeah, I guess for an older lady.

I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling at my dumbass child’s text. Gretchen Wainwright was not “an older lady”. But I’d bet my son thought anyone over eighteen was old.

I remember feeling like that once. Now I found myself using phrases like, “when I was your age,” or, “back in the day”.

Brayden: I guess she just got divorced. Are you going to ask her out?

Me: What?! No! Of course not.

Brayden: Oh. Well, if you did, I’d be okay with it.

Me: Not sure Britt would feel the same way.

Brayden: She would. We talked at Christmas and decided you should get married again. We don’t like you being alone.

Me: You guys don’t have to worry about me. In addition to you two, I’ve got Grandma and Grandpa and your uncles to keep me company.

Brayden: Yeah, but it’s not the same. We just want you to be happy.

I wondered where this was coming from and questioned if things were getting more serious between Becky and her latest boyfriend. Hopefully he was content not having his own biological kids .

Me: I am happy. I’ve got terrific kids, a great family, and a business I love. I couldn’t ask for anything more.

Brayden: Except a girlfriend.

I needed to end this conversation.

Me: Great game today! Uncle Derrick says hi and congrats on the goal. I’ll pick you up on Wednesday after practice. Love you, buddy.

Brayden: Tell him I said hi back and thank you. He should come to my next game. I’ll see you Wednesday. Love you too, Dad.

Derrick cocked his head and nodded toward my phone.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just texting with Brayden. He says you should come to his next game.”

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow at three. His school is hosting a tournament this weekend.”

“I’ll try to make it.”

“I know he’d love that.”

Gretchen set her glass on the bar and asked, “Is Brayden your son?”

“He is.” I hesitated to expound, in case she knew of my son and put together the name. Still, in the interest of not being a liar… “He goes to Lancastle Middle, too. But his English teacher is Mr. Wetherbee.”

“Wayne is a good teacher.”

“That’s good to know. I guess his grade isn’t so great.”

“He should take advantage of the after-school tutoring. It’s free. ”

“Isn’t that what you do on Tuesdays?” Laura asked her.

“Yeah.” Gretchen turned her attention back toward me. “But it’s offered every day, Monday through Thursday. All he has to do is show up at the library after school.”

I shook my head. “He has lacrosse practice after school.”

“Well, his grades must be good enough if he’s still eligible to play.”

“Good point. His mom hasn’t said anything, so they must not be too bad.”

I’m sure if it was, Becky would find a way to blame me for my son’s failing grades.

She’d probably try to argue that coming to my house on Wednesday evenings for a few hours was the root cause.

She already bitched that being at my house in the middle of the week “disrupted their schedule too much,” so I’d agreed to take them home instead of having them sleep at my house.

“Are you a teacher, too?” Derrick asked Laura as he set another drink in front of her.

“Hell no. I like money, thanks.” She took a sip then continued, “Besides, I’d probably last one week before telling an enabling parent to stop making excuses for their snot-nosed kid’s bad behavior and do something about it.”

I felt my eyebrows go up, and I looked at Gretchen.

“Are parents really that bad?”

Laura answered on her friend’s behalf. “She has horror stories.”

“They’re not horror stories.”

Laura scoffed. “Remember Rob Bennett?” She directed her next words at me.

“The guy emailed her three times a day the entire semester, making excuse after excuse about why his kid couldn’t do any work—in class or at home.

Then he tried to get Gretchen in trouble for trying to hold his kid accountable. ”

I shook my head. “What a dick. I couldn’t do what you do.”

“That was at my old school. Fortunately, the administration at Lancastle is better about protecting the teachers. They would never allow a parent to treat me that way.”

I was glad to learn that. I didn’t like the idea of entitled parents abusing her while the powers that be did nothing about it.

“We want our kids accountable for their choices, so it’s good to know Lancastle Schools shares that philosophy.”

“They do. Your children are in good hands.” She traced her finger around the base of her martini glass. “You said kids. You have more than your son?”

“My daughter is in fifth grade.”

“A boy and a girl. You’re lucky. I want two, but my cheating prick of a husband bailed before...”

Her eyes grew wide, and a small hiccup escaped her. I knew she’d been far more forthcoming than she normally would be without the alcohol coursing through her tiny body.

“I can’t believe I just said that. I swear I’m not really a bitter divorcée.”

I chuckled softly. “No one would blame you if you were, darlin’.”

You’re entitled when you catch your husband fucking his secretary.

Of course, I kept that bit of knowledge to myself, since she hadn’t shared it with me tonight .

“It’s just my clock is ticking, ya know? And I wasted so much time with him.”

A part of me was jealous of the man who got to put a baby in her.

I leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “Your ex was a fool to ever let you go.”