I give her a little smirk and let her wonder what I’m doing for a few moments. “Weird history fact—George Washington was actually not the first person to have their likeness on the one-dollar bill.”
“Really?” She exhales in a short puff with a relieved smile.
I think she’d started holding her breath when I put my hand on hers. “Really,” I confirm with a nod.
“I just assumed it was always him.” Her eyebrows rise for a second as her forehead crinkles in confusion. “Who was it, then?”
“Some guy named Salmon P. Chase. Apparently, he was the Secretary of Treasury in 1862. He was the designer of the very first bank notes.”
“So, you’re telling me some guy named Salmon put his own face on our very first currency?”
I nod solemnly. “Yep.”
Hadleigh bursts out laughing. “You’re very funny, Sawyer. You keep me on my toes. Earlier in class, you really had me thinking. You were so intense—I like it. And you know what? You had those kids riveted today while you were talking about how German-named items were given Americanized names. ‘See you later, frankfurter. Hello, Liberty Dog.’” She visibly relaxes. “You’re a great storyteller. That’s a good quality to have as a history teacher.”
I grin. “Thank you. It means a lot that you think I did a good job.”
“You did, for sure. Knocked it out of the park all week, in fact. You ready to take on another class soon?”
“Yeah. I’m focused and ready to take on whatever you want to throw at me.” The only thing that makes me even slightly unfocused is her. It’s becoming a real fucking problem.
She gets strangely quiet, then takes a sip of her tea. “You know, you aren’t who I thought you were when I got your first e-mails.”
“How so?”
“Well, you did live up to the nerdy history buff guy—” She ducks her head with a giggle. “But you were so … I dunno—stiff sounding? Maybe formal is a better word.” She shrugs. “But you’re actually pretty easygoing. You like your facts and information, which is handy for a history major, but you also have a wicked sense of humor and timing that I like.”
An honest grin spreads across my face. “I’m glad you find me amusing.”
She nods. “I do.”
“So, if it’s not my performance at school that you want to talk to me about, what are we doing here?” If this is what I think it is, we may as well get it over with.
She sets her tea down on the table very carefully. “Right. Um. Two things, actually, but both kind of related.” She sucks her plump lower lip between her teeth.
I wait patiently. I’d rather hear what she has to say before I open my mouth. And, hell, watching her worry her lip like that may just be the single sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. When she still doesn’t say anything, I nudge her knee with mine.
“You can say whatever. It’s fine.” I close my eyes for a second and begin to mentally steel myself for her to tell me to back off—that nothing is happening, regardless of how hot that kiss had been the other day or how well we get along.
A shiver runs through her, even though it’s plenty warm in here and she’s been drinking hot tea.
I cock my head to the side, and my gaze narrows on her. What the hell is she about to say?
She takes a deep breath and spills, “I remember you, okay? I saw you that night at the bar when they were doing karaoke. And—”
My relief is so profound I interrupt before she can continue. “I remember seeing you, too, Hadleigh. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything. I thought it might be awkward. But let’s just say, I was more than a little excited to see you again at the school. I couldn’t believe my luck, in fact.”
Her gaze shifts to mine and holds there. “I couldn’t get you out of my head for weeks, and then there you were. And the thing is, Sawyer, it is a little awkward. There are too many reasons why whatever we are obviously feeling doesn’t work.”
As I look into her eyes, I see so many things—so many warring emotions—that I don’t know what to do or say. Maybe we can work this out if we talk it through. Because I like this woman a lot. More than a little excited had been the understatement of the century. I’d been ecstatic to see her again. Over the fucking moon.
Before I even know what I’m doing, or have had a chance to think for two seconds, I lean in, and my mouth covers hers. Desire shoots straight through me as she responds, moving her lips against mine, and a tiny moan escapes her mouth. My hand cups her head, fingers threading through hair as my tongue finds hers. I can’t think. I can only feel—and what I feel has my pulse racing and my pants tightening uncomfortably. The way her hair is softly scented like a fragrant flower, the way her lips move against mine, like she can’t get enough, the way she makes little sounds in the back of her throat, the way her hands clutch at my thigh, as if she’s hanging on for dear life. All of these things rolled together combine into one hot, combustible moment between us, and I know I’m never going to be the same if I can’t have her.
My phone buzzes with a text message, skittering a bit on the table. With deep regret, I drag my mouth from hers.
