Suit and tie. Nine-to-five job. Fine dining and wine. Never been married. What the fuck? It wasn’t like there was anything wrong with him. He was a damn fine catch.
Not that he was looking to be caught, because he wasn’t. But if he was, he’d be perfect for someone like Chelsea.
Okay, maybe not Chelsea, because she wasn’t exactly a ten on the perfect meter herself. She bought too many expensive shoes, she was too picky, too opinionated, too high-maintenance, and she …
Well, shit. He dragged his fingers through his hair and decided he was going to spend the remainder of the day not thinking about Chelsea. About how full her lips were or about how sweet she’d tasted when he kissed her, or how curvy her body was and how good it had felt to feel it aligned with his.
Hell.
He needed to go take his frustrations out by cleaning his dirty shower. Or maybe just take a goddamned cold one.
Chapter 6
“No, Jacob, here’s where you went wrong in your calculations.”
Chelsea sat with one of her algebra students. “Follow your order of operations. Inner brackets first, then power, then multiplication. You just mixed them up.”
Jacob was one of her brightest students. He nodded as he followed along.
“Why don’t you rework the problem here for me, and if you get it right, I’ll give you credit for it?”
She’d asked Jacob to stay after class. She knew he had a heavy workload of honors classes and that his parents put a lot of pressure on him to succeed. She wanted to help.
She waited while he reworked the problem, and noted he’d done it successfully.
“That’s correct.”
Jacob frowned. “I can’t believe I screwed that up. It’s an easy one.”
“Don’t worry about it. Next time, just take your time and don’t try to work so fast. You know you can do it, and you have plenty of time to get through the test. Sometimes you try to zip through too quickly and make simple mistakes. The smarts are there, kid.”
She regraded his paper, and now she could give him a perfect score.
“Thanks, Ms. Gardner.”
“You’re welcome. And Jacob? Try to have a little fun and don’t make it all about schoolwork, okay?”
He gave her a shy smile. “I’ll try.”
He left her classroom and shut the door. Sometimes she worried more about the overachievers like Jacob than she did about some of the underachievers. Kids like him worked so hard to be perfect. And there was no such thing.
Except the perfect man for her, of course.
Now all she had to do was find the right man who fit those parameters. Not an easy task, as she tended to go out on a lot of first dates, very few second, and hardly any third.
Her friends said she was picky. There was nothing wrong with being choosy about men. And there was no point in wasting her time on the wrong man.
She’d dated a lot of wrong men. She was in the market for the right man, and sooner or later the right one would come along.
When the bell rang, she pushed that thought aside and prepped for the next class of students, who piled in for another math class.
Teaching high school math was her passion and focus and had been for the past ten years.
Now she was ready for a new passion, a new focus—finding the right man.
After classes ended for the day, she packed up the homework to be graded for the night and drove to her apartment.
It had been a grueling week, and she was happy to go home.
She was always happy to go home. She liked her place. It was a small one-bedroom located near downtown Hope. She’d had it for several years now. It was close to the high school, and to the newly renovated town square and park. It suited her purposes as far as convenience. It was within walking distance to shops and restaurants, and she liked to get out and walk a lot, so for her, it was perfect.
Perfect. There was a word she’d been using a lot lately. Perfect job, perfect apartment. Now all she needed was the perfect man, and her life would be …
She smiled at the thought—perfect.
She laid her things down on the kitchen table, then went to the refrigerator to pour herself a glass of iced tea. She started grading papers, her mind lost in math and calculations.
Until her phone buzzed. She laid the glass down and picked up the phone, checking the display.
Bash. She frowned, then clicked.
“Hi, Bash.”
“I found a guy for you.”
That was unexpected. “Excuse me?”
“Your list. A man who ticks off all your idiosyncrasies.”
“They are not idiosyncrasies. They’re guidelines.”
“Whatever. I found the guy. His name is Kristofer Steele. Kris. He’s an attorney, a partner with a firm in Tulsa.”
Okay, so this Kris guy sounded decent enough. “How do you know him?”
“He’s my attorney. Plus, I’ve known him since college. He’s a great guy, Chelsea. I trust him, or I would never set you up with him.”
She sat back in her chair. “Okay. Tell me more about him.”
“He’s thirty-four, single, no kids. Has a dog and a house. He’s successful, he likes all those fancy restaurants and wine that you like. Obviously a suit guy.”
“He sounds interesting.”
“Great. I talked to him about you and he wants to meet you. He’s actually coming to the bar this afternoon to go over some legal documents with me. How about you come here and I can introduce the two of you tonight?”