Take a Chance Read online

  Miss Springer bit her lip like she was trying to stop herself from chiming in.

  Feeling encouraged, Kurt continued. “I don’t know how you treat women here at Bridgeport High, but back in West Virginia, we are taught to treat women with respect. You might not agree with the way Sam handled things, but he didn’t take the picture, he didn’t share it, and he was obviously trying to stop it, too. Which, frankly, someone on staff should’ve done in the first place.”

  For the first time since Kurt arrived, Sam’s expression turned hopeful.

  His teacher looked even more uneasy. “Your points are valid, Kurt. However—”

  “However, we moved here so Sam could get a better education. I know he’s going to get that in Bridgeport. Now, I know he wants to do well here. He’s gonna work hard and be respectful of the staff. But my little brother here is more than just a smart kid. He’s a good man. If you think I’m going to let him start throwing everything out that our parents instilled in him, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  “Of course we don’t want him to ignore the values he was taught,” the principal said in a rush.

  “I’m real glad to hear you say that. Because I really don’t want to have to explain to my father about how you’re wanting him to throw out his morals just to fit in around here. Our father would be real disappointed if he found out that Sam walked away when other boys were mistreating his girl.”

  “Of course he would,” Emily said.

  Sam kind of choked. “She ain’t my girl, Kurt.”

  That “ain’t” chewed on his last nerve. “You talk like you’re supposed to, kid.”

  Abruptly, Sam jumped to his feet. He stood up straight and tall. Proud. Looking directly at the principal, he said, “The one-day suspension is fine, sir. When do I start?”

  The principal shuffled some papers. “It could be effective tomorrow.”

  “I’ll take tomorrow, sir. Thank you,” Sam blurted.

  Kurt grabbed hold of his brother’s arm. “Hey, now. Wait a minute.”

  Sam jerked his arm away. “You aren’t my father. I’m also not a kid. I’m seventeen and a half.”

  In Kurt’s mind, Sam was a kid. And the fact that he’d added “and a half” to his age pointed it out perfectly. “I realize that, but I’m trying to do right by you.”

  “I know, but it’s okay.” His brother turned and stared at him. A dark smudge was now staining the tender skin under his eye. But what drew Kurt’s attention the most was the steady look of resolve in Sam’s eyes.

  It was the same look their mother had in her last days before the cancer took her. It was the same look in their father’s eyes when he’d confided to Kurt that he wasn’t capable of doing any more for his youngest child than he already was.

  And it was the same look that Kurt had seen in his own reflection when he’d realized that he was going to move to Bridgeport and grasp hold of a life that he’d only seen in television shows.

  Turning back to the principal and Emily, Kurt sighed. “Looks like Samuel will be taking his suspension tomorrow. What forms do you need me to sign?”

  CHAPTER 2

  FROM LES LARKE’S

  TIPS FOR BEGINNING POKER PLAYERS:

  Pay attention to the game. You’d be surprised at the number of people who miss key pieces of information because they’ve let their mind drift to things that don’t matter.

  Emily loathed hot yoga. She hated how it was seventy minutes long and how it felt even longer than that. She hated how she found every single position the instructor attempted to put her in to be painful and awkward. She hated how the five o’clock class felt like it was simply one more thing to get through at the end of another long day.

  She especially hated how she always ended up looking like a sweaty rat by the time she walked out of the nondescript studio in the middle of the biggest shopping section of Bridgeport. A sweaty rat with way too much frizzy hair, thanks to the humidity that filled the air from everyone’s sweat.

  Actually, about the only thing she did like about the class was the way it made her look. Because of this class, she could wear her slim skirts and tailored slacks without worrying that some part of her was jiggling too much. Then there was the fact that because she subjected herself through this torture, she could eat ice cream two nights a week.

  It turned out that ice cream and clothes that fit were powerful incentives.

  But tonight, she was also glad that she could concentrate on holding that plank position for another thirty seconds instead of thinking even more about the meeting that she’d just walked out of. The way it had ended had left a sour taste in her mouth … and a whole lot of feelings she wasn’t sure how to deal with. Though she hadn’t been teaching all that long, this was unusual.

  First of all, she’d felt bad for Sam Holland. He was the type of student that made her job wonderful. He was inquisitive and bold. Funny and feisty. He was smarter than he realized, and she loved how any compliment seemed to surprise him. He wore his heart on his sleeve, too. He didn’t just like Kayla Everett. He really liked Kayla Everett. Her grandmother would have described it as smitten.

  She’d vowed to herself that she was going to personally talk to every one of the teachers on his schedule to see if they could give him a break on the zeros. Kids like him were the reason they’d all gone into education. If he suffered because of the fight today, she’d take it as a sign that she hadn’t done enough for him. He needed someone to fight for him.

  Well, besides his big brother.

  “Downward dog,” the instructor called out in her sweet, singsong voice.

  With a grunt, Emily switched positions. And, as she settled into staring at the mat, she made herself admit the other reason she was suddenly tolerating the class for once.

  Two words: Kurt Holland. A man who was too much of everything. Too handsome. Too sexy. Too much for a girl like her.

  But boy, it was sure hard not to imagine how things would be if she ever had a reason to be around him again. His voice had a slight drawl. His features were hard and chiseled and supremely attractive. He was a six-foot, three-inch hunk with dark brown hair and dark blue eyes. What was even more disconcerting was that he wasn’t even off-limits. He wasn’t a parent. He was a brother.

  She’d never thought to add brothers of students to her Do Not Date list.

  “Runner’s pose.”

  Should he be? Maybe she should add an addendum to that list. For her own good, of course.

  “Runner’s pose, Emily,” the instructor fairly ordered in her ear.

  Hurriedly, she tried to move her right foot into position … and then promptly fell.

  Campbell Weiss, her best friend, fellow teacher, and second cousin, snickered. “Better get your mind on the game before you hurt yourself, Em,” she whispered under her breath. “You don’t want to go to school saying you twisted your ankle doing yoga.”

  Emily didn’t bother to look at her. If she did, she’d be treated to a perfect rendition of a runner’s pose as well as a blinding white smile. As much as Emily hated this class, Campbell thrived on it.

  “Warrior one.”

  With a grunt, she glanced at her cousin, forced herself into position, and started thinking about vanilla ice cream and her navy pencil skirt. If she survived this class, both could be in her future.

  Twenty minutes later, she was guzzling water outside her car and trying her best to evade her cousin’s questions.

  “What was going on with you in there?” Campbell asked as she lightly ran a towel over her shoulders, that perversely, didn’t look either sore or like she’d sweat all that much.

  “You know how much I hate this class.”

  “Oh, I know. What I don’t know is why you go at all.”

  “You know why,” Emily said.

  “There are other activities to do that would al
low you to eat ice cream and still fit into your skinny jeans.”

  “Not really. I’ve tried everything. I hate running, got injured last time I attempted weight training, and made a fool of myself doing aerobics.”

  “Does anyone even do aerobics anymore?” Campbell teased.

  “That’s beside the point.”

  Looking at her carefully, Campbell said, “I’m beginning to think that there’s something more here than just two scoops of Graeter’s chocolate–chocolate chip ice cream. What is the point?”

  “That I’m not going to let this class get the best of me. I’m going to master it. Sooner or later.”

  “That is so you,” she murmured, not exactly sounding impressed either. “You are a girl who is determined to keep to your lists and goals, no matter what.”

  “Don’t knock them. Those two things keep me on track.”

  “They also limit your life.” She softened her voice. “One day you are going to realize that no matter what that jerk Danny says, you are just fine how you are, Em.”

  She inwardly flinched at the mention of Danny’s name. “I can’t talk about Danny.”

  “I know, and I don’t want to make you. I’m just trying to get you to see that things might be okay if you take some chances every now and then.”

  That was so Campbell. Her best friend in the world had a faith that was as strong as her steadfastness. Emily admired it, she really did.

  But that didn’t mean that she was going to be able to do that very easily. However, before Emily could argue that point for about the two hundred and seventy-sixth time, Campbell opened her car door.

  “Sorry. I’d talk about this all some more, but I’ve got to rush home and shower. I’ve got a date tonight.”

  “With whom?”

  “Hunter Carvelles.”

  Emily grimaced. “Oh, Camp. Really?”

  Though she looked more than a little embarrassed, Campbell jutted out her chin. “There’s nothing wrong with him.”

  “There’s nothing right either.”

  “That’s not true,” she replied in a rush. “Hunter’s nice and he has a good job. Plus, he thinks I’m pretty.”

  That was all it took for Emily to stop holding her tongue. “Hunter’s kind of slimy, I bet everyone hates him at his job, and you are pretty.”

  Campbell pursed her lips. “I know I just said that we’re all like we’re supposed to be … but sometimes I wish I wasn’t built like a 1950s pinup girl.”

  Only Campbell could make her hourglass figure sound like a bad thing. “For the last time, your figure—”

  Holding up one hand with perfectly pink manicured nails, her girlfriend shook her head. “Uh, no. I am not going to start discussing this with you. Again. Say bye and wish me luck.”

  “How about I tell you bye and that I hope you have fun?” No way did she want Campbell to end up with Hunter.

  “Thanks,” she replied before opening up the sunroof on her spiffy silver Mazda and driving off.

  Still feeling too damp and thirsty to step into her trusty Corolla, Emily sipped her water and tried to think of someone better for her girlfriend. No one came to mind, but that didn’t mean much. She hadn’t had a whole lot of luck in the dating department herself.

  All that did matter was that Hunter definitely wasn’t the guy for Campbell. He was crazy smart—rocket-scientist smart. But he had an awful sense of humor and had somehow adopted Campbell’s parents’ passive-aggressive way of treating her.

  Sure, Campbell was heavier than Emily by about forty pounds. But she wasn’t fat by any means. She simply had curves—in all the right places. She also had thick long brown hair that she took the time to put in hot rollers every day. But while most other women’s curls would fall in a saggy heap by ten every morning, Campbell’s hair stayed perfectly curled all day long. It danced along her shoulder blades when she walked down the halls.

  Even all the teenage girls envied her hair! Really, it was beautiful. Then, of course, she had bluebonnet-blue eyes and was something of a computer genius. And she was a gourmet cook. Emily wasn’t a guy, but she was pretty sure that Campbell had a lot of attributes that most men liked a lot.

  All she had to do was drop Hunter like the clod he was and set her sights elsewhere. On someone who could appreciate her package, because it was a pretty amazing one. Surely there was a man like that somewhere in the vicinity?

  Just as she finished her water bottle, a large silver Ford truck pulled in to park two spaces down. She absently smiled at the driver, intending to hop in her Corolla and finally go home. Then the driver’s door opened … and out came Kurt Holland himself.

  When he turned to her, his gaze drifted over her body. She caught a look of surprise as he took in her sweat-dampened body and frizzy hair. He quickly hid it, but not quickly enough for her to not wish she’d driven off about five minutes before he’d arrived.

  Suddenly, she felt out of place and incredibly awkward.

  Kind of like seeing him in a yoga parking lot. Kind of how she couldn’t ignore how attractive he was, and how her mind was turning to mush around him. Again.

  This wasn’t good. She needed to get away from him, stat. After she said something friendly and polite. And, perhaps, smart-sounding. She just had to hope he liked working out. Then, maybe, just maybe, he would be able to somehow appreciate her efforts to stay in shape.

  Yeah, that could do it. Maybe.

  As long as he was standing downwind.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Poker is…a fascinating, wonderful, intricate adventure on the high seas of human nature.”

  —David A. Daniel

  “Miss Springer, right?” Kurt asked, feeling pretty proud of himself for acting like he was trying to place her name. It was a lot better than her discovering the reality, which was he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of Sam’s drop-dead gorgeous teacher and the many ways he would have liked to have gotten to know her … if she wasn’t off-limits.

  Which Emily Springer was.

  “Yes. That’s me.” She paused awkwardly, looking like she needed to take a second to come to grips with something important. After another second went by, she stepped forward, pulled her shoulders back, and smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Holland.”

  He was slightly disappointed she didn’t offer her hand. He would have liked to touch her again. But she probably had a whole lot more practice than he did keeping her students’ families a firm distance away. “You know, I can only think of about two people who’ve ever called me Mr. Holland, and one of them was my sixth-grade teacher. Do you think you could continue to call me Kurt?”

  “I suppose I can, if you call me Emily.”

  Feeling successful though he really shouldn’t be feeling anything at all, he smiled. “I can do that, Emily.”

  Looking awkward, she shifted her weight. He took in her outfit again, noticed that her leggings showed off better legs than he’d imagined. And the black sports bra with a damp white T-shirt over it accentuated the rest of her attributes. Which he shouldn’t have noticed.

  Realizing that she was watching him studying her intently, he mentally cursed. She’d seen him checking her out. Nothing creepy about that. His mother would have slapped him upside the head.

  He needed to give her space and not make her uncomfortable. Taking a step backward, he attempted to sound politely bored. “Sorry, I was just wondering what you’ve been doing.”

  Letting out a little moan, she pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I know. I look terrible.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think I smell, too. I’m really sorry.”

  He would have started laughing but he was pretty sure that would hurt her feelings. “I wasn’t thinking that you look bad or um, smell, Emily. Only that you looked a lot different than you did at school.”

  “Oh, I know I look different. There’
s only one thing that makes me look like this.” Pointing to the sign above one of the stores, she explained. “I’ve been at hot yoga.”

  Looking up, he frowned. “What’s that?”

  Her brown eyes widened. “You don’t know?”

  “Nope.” Though he’d heard of yoga, of course, he’d never paid a lot of attention to it. He never paid any attention to the latest workout craze since he earned his living working outside. But her interest in it might make him change his mind.

  Finally giving in, he smiled softly as he leaned against the side of his truck. “Never heard of it.”

  “Oh. Well, it’s a class where everyone does different yoga poses in a room that’s a hundred degrees.”

  “Why would you want to do that? It was over ninety today.”

  “It, uh, is supposed to encourage sweating.”

  He almost mentioned that she could probably get a good sweat just by going for a walk outside, but he kept his mouth shut. “Looks like it did a good job.”

  She pulled at her tank top, which gave him a peek at even more bare skin that he wasn’t supposed to be noticing.

  Her lips pursed. “I can’t believe I’m talking to you looking like this. I need a shower in a bad way.”

  Emily. Plus. Shower.

  Shoot. There he went again. Thinking about her in a really inappropriate way. When he noticed that she was blushing, he knew it was time to say something and put her at ease the way his mother would have expected him to do.

  No, actually, he needed to salvage this conversation before she transferred Sam right out of her class because his older brother was a creeper.

  And that was why he said one of the most embarrassing things he could remember speaking in his entire life. “Don’t worry about it, Emily. I’m used to damp clothes.”

  Her eyebrows raised.

  “You know, since I do landscaping.” Feeling dumber by the second, he blurted, “I mean, what I’m trying to say is that I already sweat a lot.”