Third Date by Leah Holt Read Free Book Online

us for a little while today, his name is Mr. Torres, please say hello to Mr. Torres.”
    As if a giant megaphone had just dropped from the ceiling, every tiny voice turned into one large explosion. “Hello, Mr. Torres.”
    Layne smiled, waving a gentle hand. “Hello, small humans.”
    Small humans? Really?
    He can't have any experience with kids.
    “Alright, now that that's done, let's get back to work. It's narrator time, everyone go sit crisscross applesauce on the rug.”
    Each chair in the room screeched as they were pushed across the tiles, the light patter of feet hit the walls as the children all took their designated letter seat on the rug.
    I tried desperately to ignore the man candy sitting in the rear of my room, but I could feel him watching me like a hawk. Each movement I made, his eyes burned into my back, watching, observing, writing.
    What's he writing?
    What the hell does he think he's going to get from this?
    I don't care, I'm working.
    A part of me was slightly pissed that he had the balls to invite himself into my classroom only to watch me.
    Me.
    I was teaching a group of children how to read... How to write... What the hell did that have to do with my personal life?
    What did his being here have to do with helping me to date, or even find a reason to want to date again?
    Nothing. This had nothing to do with it.
    But the entire time he sat there he wrote and jotted down notes. His face made small twitches as he followed me around the room, his hand repeatedly raising to the paper to put down something he thought he saw, or noticed.
    At least that's what I figured anyway. I honestly didn't have a damn clue what he was really writing down. And I tried to sneak a peek, several times.
    I hate secrets. Why is he blocking the notes?
    If it's about me, shouldn't I be able to read them?
    But each time I thought I could grab a glance at his hand drawn words, he would cover them up with his palm.
    Layne at one point even tisked me under his breath as I tried to manipulate my position to take a glance. “Uh, uh, uh. No peeking, Ms. Davidson.” His barely audible words floated through the air on tiny feathers.
    Grimacing, I directed my attention back to the kids and their efforts to practice writing the new sight words we had worked on.
    As the lunch bell rang, the children all burst from their seats, running to grab their lunch boxes. Glancing over at Layne, he stood from his tiny refuge in the back, stretching his legs. “Alright, I think I've seen enough for today. I'll call you in a few days and we can set up another a meeting.”
    “Another meeting? You'd call this a meeting?” Crossing my arms tight over my chest, my head cocked to the side.
    Layne's eyes dipped to my breasts, following my neckline up. His gaze drifted over my lips, my eyes, then back to my lips. With his subtle movements my body shivered, muscles tensing up with electrified jolts that burned into my core.
    Cupping my elbow, his fingers teased the fabric. “That's exactly what this was.” Lifting two fingers to his lips, he kissed them and flicked his fingers in the air. “See you soon.”
    My body went up in flames, turning to hot sparks with his touch. He had been the first man to touch me in years, and no matter how much I wanted to shut down the feelings streaming my muscles; I couldn't.
    This is ridiculous.
    I'm ridiculous.
    What the hell did I get into?

Chapter Five
    Kinsley
    “H e what?” Gina asked, her voice tempered with confusion.
    “He showed up at the school, Gina.”
    “What do you mean he showed up at the school? Why the hell would he do that?”
    “I don't know, you tell me, you hired the guy.” Pouring the box of mac and cheese into the bubbling water, I tilted my head into my shoulder to hold the phone against my ear. “Did you guys even do any checks on him? I mean he literally lied through his teeth to my boss to get in, then watched me like a predator stalks their prey. You know he could've gotten my ass