Charge (Electric Series #1) Read online

Volt

  I hadn’t stopped thinking about the final conversation we had in front of her door. The urge to give her a hot kiss came over me because of how pretty her eyes looked. And my body craved something sexy and fast.

  But she turned me down.

  She pulled away before my lips could even touch hers, and the repulsion in her eyes was painful. She stared at me like she wanted me, but she wanted nothing to do with me.

  I didn’t understand it.

  I didn’t put too much thought into my actions before I did them—at least, physically. If I wanted to kiss a woman, I kissed her. If I wanted something more, I took it. In that moment, I wanted her. I wanted that soft mouth on my body. I wanted to hear her moan as I moved inside her all night long. She was shy and gentle, but I wanted to bring out a new side in her.

  But she didn’t want me.

  She said I wasn’t the kind of man she was looking for.

  And she wasn’t the woman I wanted either.

  What exactly did that mean?

  I should just forget about it and move on with my life. I didn’t know her, at least, not very well. We met two weeks ago, and she was still a stranger in my eyes. She would come and go like everyone I encountered.

  But I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  Was it guilt I felt? Something else?

  I spent my week working at the office. Emails from concerned parents never died down, and I was holding interviews for new tutors. The interview process was daunting and suffocating. I couldn’t take anyone who wasn’t the best of the best, and I couldn’t hire someone who didn’t care about the success of the students. My livelihood depended on their compassion.

  I started this business with the best intentions, but it inadvertently made me rich. Money wasn’t important to me years ago, but once my heart was broken and my world was shattered, I relied on it to make me happy—just as I relied on all the women. That didn’t make me a bad person. It was two birds with one stone.

  I met a few beautiful women and brought them back to my apartment, but the sex was mediocre—and that was being nice. Something was holding me back—a dark conscience about the last conversation I had with a woman I hardly knew. When it didn’t go away, I knew I needed to clear my head.

  So I had to talk to her.

  I knew where she worked because I was familiar with the campus. I’d interviewed there once before, and I was on good terms with the presiding principal.

  Because he was my father.

  I walked down the halls and eyed the clock in the corner. The bell was about to ring any moment, and the students of Bristol Academy would take off down the halls.

  I reached her classroom and peered through the small window in the door. She wore a teal blue dress that was loose around her entire body, and nude pumps were on her feet. She dressed like a typical schoolteacher, nice but never intentionally looking sexy. Taylor wasn’t the kind of woman I was used to, but I still found her attractive.

  She just finished writing something on the board when the bell rang, and the kids dashed for the door. I stepped out of the way just in time before I was crushed by the throng of eager students.

  The students filed into the hall, and soon it was a moving sea of kids in their school uniforms, dark blue vests with matching slacks. The girls wore the same thing, but I remember the skirts they used to wear in my youth. My hand had slipped underneath them too many times.

  When the classroom was vacated, I walked inside.

  Taylor sat behind her desk, her brown hair pulled over one shoulder. A coffee sat in the corner, probably cold and stale since it was brewed that morning. Packets of lab reports were stacked beside her, and the lack of red ink suggested she hadn’t graded them yet.

  When she didn’t notice me, I walked farther into the room and approached her desk. That’s when I noticed the scent of vanilla and oranges in the air. It was a strange combination, but the mixed scent was soothing. I recalled the scent when I leaned in to kiss her, but I didn’t really get to enjoy it.

  I still wore my suit because I just left the office, and the clothing was stifling. I’d wear a t-shirt and jeans every single day if I could get away with it. It was more comfortable than this blanket.

  Taylor finally looked up when she realized she wasn’t alone. “Sorry, didn’t see you there—” She halted when she understood exactly whom she was talking to. Once the surprise melted away, disappointment replaced it.

  And that made me feel worse.

  Was she that upset because I tried to kiss her? She behaved as though I tried to steal her wallet or something.

  She recovered from the shock and collected herself. “Hi. What brings you here?”

  I scanned the walls of her classroom, seeing the different projects the students had made. Illustrations of black holes and their gravitational pull were plastered on every wall, and I couldn’t help but be impressed by each student’s interpretation. They even had calculations of the force projected along the orbit of a satellite. “I wanted to stop by and see your classroom. I like it.” In the back was the lab equipment, and on the back shelf were small motors in the process of being constructed. Everything they were doing was far more advanced than I ever did as a student.

  “Thank you. But I can’t take the credit since the students made everything.”

  “You should take some credit. After all, it was your idea.”

  A red pen was held tightly in her fingertips. The tip pressed against the paper, and it started to bleed on the lab report.

  I glanced at it. “You should put the cap on.”

  She saw what she did and quickly pulled the tip away. She capped it then tried to figure out what to do about the large pool of ink. “I should be able to make that into an A…”

  I pulled up a chair and grabbed the pen. “Let me see.” I carefully sculpted an A with the ink, making it look like a cheeky design Taylor was giving to her student.

  Taylor studied it with approval. “You saved the day. You know how these parents can be…overanalyzing everything.”

  “All too well.” In my experience, all of the single moms wanted to get too friendly with their child’s teacher…and some of the single dads as well. I blew on the ink until it was dry then capped the pen.

  Once that was done, it became awkward again.

  Taylor placed the paper aside and cleared her throat, addressing the tension. “How can I help you, Volt?” Her gaze turned elsewhere, avoiding any kind of eye contact with me.

  When I studied her from afar, she had the strongest sense of confidence, but once I was next to her, that strength evaporated. I couldn’t tell if I intimidated her or made her hot. “I wanted to talk about what happened last week.”

  She finally turned her gaze on me, her hands moving to her lap. “There’s nothing to talk about. Let’s just forget about it and move on. I know I have.”

  Ouch. “I never meant to offend you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Hostility was emanating from her in high-voltage waves. I could feel it pierce my skin like tiny particles of radioactivity. “Look, I know I screwed up somehow, and I’m trying to make it right. Please meet me halfway.”

  “Trying to make what right?”

  “Whatever this awkwardness is. What exactly did I do to bother you?” In that moment, I realized how strange my behavior was. I never let anyone get to me, bother me like this. But Taylor had me rethinking my actions and thoughts.

  Taylor finally dropped her front, letting her walls come down enough to allow her vulnerability to shine through. “I just don’t want to be treated the way you treat all the women in your life.”

  Her comment made me stagger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m not a woman you pick up in a bar, have a threesome with, and then never call again. And I don’t want to be treated that way. I don’t know what I did to give you the impression that I’m looking for an easy lay, but that’s not on my roster.”

  “Whoa… What?
” How did she know all of that? “Taylor, you don’t even know me.”

  “I don’t?” she asked. “So you’re saying my assumption is inaccurate?” She challenged me with her look.

  “Well…” Actually, it wasn’t inaccurate at all. All I wanted was meaningless sex, cheap booze, and then to wake up the next day and do it all over again. When I kissed her on the doorstep, it was exactly what I wanted. I wasn’t going to lie about it. “No, I guess you’re right.”

  “And there’s nothing wrong with that, Volt. I don’t judge you for it. But I don’t want to be on your target list.”

  Over the past year, I’d never made a pass at a woman and been turned down. Most of the time, they came on to me. I had regulars that stopped by at three in the morning, and I always had a full booty call list. I stopped keeping track of how many women I slept with because I didn’t have enough fingers and toes. And my brain couldn’t remember every name. I thought Taylor was pretty that night, and like with all the others before her, I went for it.

  “I just don’t want to be treated that way, that’s all. Like you can kiss me whenever you want because you’re entitled to my lips. I’m not a woman you can just grab and take. I’m a person.”

  I didn’t truly feel guilty until that point—when she rammed the truth into me. “I’m sorry.” I never apologized, even when I knew I was in the wrong, but the apology escaped my lips automatically. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  When she saw the sincerity in my eyes, her gaze softened. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I don’t mind being kissed when I’m on a date or when the guy walks me to my door…but I knew that wasn’t the kind of kiss I wanted. I didn’t feel like a person—more like an object.”

  That was exactly how I viewed her, so I couldn’t blame her for drawing that conclusion. “You had every right to feel that way.” I hadn’t misread her that night. In fact, I hadn’t bothered reading her at all. I just took the shot because I assumed she would want me—like an asshole. “I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

  “Of course I do.” Her gentle spirit had finally returned, and she actually gave me a smile. It wasn’t a forced grin, the kind you knew was fake. This one was genuine—and it was beautiful.

  “Good.” The weight finally left my shoulders, and I could breathe again. “I hope we can move on from this and forget about it.”

  “Maybe we can be friends.”

  “Friends?” I asked, unsure what that word even meant. Friendships were rare for me, and the only ones I had were with men. And even then, I wasn’t close to them. I didn’t share every aspect of my life with anyone. In fact, I never told anyone anything. Derek and I used to be closer, and he’d still claim I’m his best friend, but I didn’t feel the same way anymore. Solitude was my only friend now.

  “Yeah,” she said with a chuckle. “Do you need to brush up on your vocabulary?”

  “I don’t have many friends.”

  “You seem to be pretty close to the guys.” She grabbed the pen and slowly spun it in her fingertips. That’s when I noticed different planets of the solar system were painted on each of her nails, and her thumb displayed a comet. It was childish—but cute.

  “We hang out.” But that was the extent of it.

  “That’s pretty sad… I wish I had more friends, and you don’t want any friends. Ironic.”

  That did make me sound like a sad person—pathetic. “You’re actively looking for new friends?”

  “And that’s pretty hard in a big city like this. People are always coming and going all the time. No one has the chance to stop for a cup of coffee.”

  “Well, I can be your friend. And I’ll take you out for a cup of coffee.”

  “Really?” she asked. “You expect me to take a pity invite?”

  Now that the suggestion was out in the open, I didn’t dread it. In fact, it might be nice. “You want to be friends or what? This offer expires.”

  She chewed her bottom lip as she tried to come to a decision.

  I glanced at my watch. “Time is ticking.”

  “Okay. But only if you buy me a scone.”

  “That’s what you want?” I asked with a laugh. “A scone?”

  “Orange and cranberry. They’re my favorite.”

  She reminded me of a child excited to visit Disneyland for the first time. An innocent smile was on her face, and her eyes were lit up like Christmas Tree Lane. “I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

  ***

  We walked into The Muffin Girl and stood in the line that wrapped around the store. Taylor stood beside me and peered into the glass windows that displayed all the baked goods inside. There were pies, cookies, and assorted pastries.

  “Is this place always so busy?” She pulled her hair over one shoulder and showed off her earrings. They were small globes hanging from silver hoops. Her look was geeky, but she somehow made it look cool.

  “Yeah. But it’s the best bakery in town. If I’m going to show you around the city, we have to make a stop here.”

  “Wow. I’m excited.” She pressed her face to the glass and eyed a chocolate and strawberry scone. “That looks good.”

  I didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. I drank my coffee black and skipped cake at birthday parties. I was boring and predictable. “Then get it.”

  “But that blueberry muffin looks good…” She pointed to the basket of muffins on the lower shelf.

  “Good thing this line is long so you’ll have time to make a decision.”

  She chewed on her nails, still indecisive.

  The corner of my mouth upturned in a grin. “You have the perfect personality for a teacher.”

  “Yeah?” she asked. “I would say thank you, but I’m not entirely sure what that means.”

  “You’re playful—not stiff. Kids respond to that.” I only taught for five years before I opened First Chance Education. But in that amount of time, I was able to understand what students really needed from their instructors—and the type of people they responded to. I knew Taylor would leave a lasting impression on them even though I’d never set foot in her classroom during the school day.

  “I don’t know about that. I’m having a difficult time getting them to listen.”

  “Really?” We moved farther up the line, talking loudly over the chatter of the bakery. Blenders were going off, and the cash register kept beeping with new orders. The kitchens were operating at full speed, toasting bread for sandwiches and making new pastries.

  “Yeah. I’m not sure what the problem is. At first, I thought they were unchallenged. I gave them some complicated projects, but that didn’t fix the problem. I’m not sure if it’s the Common Core standards that’s throwing them off…”

  “Interesting.” Private schools tended to have obedient students, especially those at Bristol Academy. Taylor’s experience was rare—and strange. “Do they know you’re a new teacher?”

  “I never said I was.”

  Students had a way of finding the truth—no matter how hard you tried to hide it. “Kids talk.”

  “Even then, I don’t know what difference it makes.”

  “When students know you’re new, they like to test you—see how far you’ll go.”

  “Ha. I’d like to see them try.” We moved up the line some more, and she examined the pecan cookies in the window. “Dude, those look bomb.”

  What did she just say? “Did you just call me dude? Wait, back up. Did you just use bomb as an adjective?”

  She pointed inside the window. “Do those not look like the most delicious cookies you’ve ever seen?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not much of a sweet tooth.”

  She cringed. “Just when I thought we could be friends.”

  I stared at the back of her head and felt that old smile tug at my lips.

  We reached the register and ordered our coffees. After the man took our order, he said, “Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Taylor answered. “Can I have…?” She fidgeted with her hai
r as she tried to make a decision. “Can I have the chocolate strawberry scone?”

  “Sure—”

  “No, I want the blueberry muffin instead.”

  He typed it into the register. “Okay.”

  “Actually, I want a scone. That’s what I came here for anyway.”

  The cashier hid his irritation poorly and fixed the previous entry before making the new one. “Anything else?”

  Taylor had her hair wrapped around her hand at this point. “Actually, I want a pecan cookie.”

  Now the guy looked like he wanted to kill her. “Are you sure?”

  Taylor flinched at the threat in his voice. “Uh…”

  As entertaining as this was, I had to intervene. “Give her two of everything and a dozen of those pecan cookies.”

  “What?” Taylor asked. “I don’t need all of that.”

  “You can take it home with you.”

  “But—”

  “Ring us up, please.” I handed over my card to speed things along. There were thirty people in line behind us.

  The guy didn’t hesitate as he grabbed my card and slid it through the machine. “Here’s your receipt and have a good day.” He grabbed a white paper bag and shoved all of the pastries inside before he handed it to Taylor.

  She had to carry it with two hands because it was so heavy.

  I carried our coffees to a table outside and took a seat in the small patio enclosure near the alleyway. Picnic tables were lined on the small grassy area, and umbrellas were erected to keep the sun out of our eyes.

  Taylor sat across from me and set the heavy bag on the table. It made a noticeable thump. “That guy must think I have no self-control.”

  I sipped my coffee and watched the people pass. “And he would be right.”

  “I didn’t need all of these.”

  “Take them home and eat them later.”

  “You didn’t have to buy them all. I could have paid for them.”

  “I didn’t mind.” I sipped my coffee again. “So, which one are you going to have? Or is that a dangerous question to ask?”

  She opened the bag and peered inside. “I don’t know… I’m leaning toward the muffin.”

  “It’s what the bakery is known for.”