Chapter 1

1

ALAINA

T he shrill alarm pierced the air, rudely yanking me from my sleep. I groaned and slammed my hand down on the snooze button. My room was still comfortably dark, and ten minutes was ten minutes, so I fluffed my pillow, flipped it over to the cold side, and rolled over, ready to get a little more sleep.

Suddenly, I remembered it was Monday.

My eyes flew open and I snatched my phone up to check the time. "Son of a biscuit!"

I had already hit the snooze button. Twice.

"Fuck!" I cried, ditching the kid-friendly cursing. As a new teacher, I tried very hard not to use saucy language. But I had to be out the door in thirty minutes. There was no time for that bullshit.

We were only a couple weeks into the school year, but the first two Mondays had been a special kind of awful. My students, who I loved with every fiber of my being, were all monsters on Mondays. Well, not Rafe. He was a little quiet. But everyone else was brimming with energy and stories from their weekend, and it was a delicate dance to keep the classroom from spinning into chaos. Or I could just put on a movie.

With a groan, I rolled out of bed. My feet hit the cold hardwood floor and I shivered. Cate's luxury apartment was all sleek lines and chic modernity, but it lacked the warmth of my old place. Adjusting to her minimalist, pristine white aesthetic was harder than I'd thought it would be.

Like carpet. I missed carpet. As soon as I got paid, I was buying myself a big, fluffy rug to put next to my bed. Then again, I could just save that money and get my own place with all the carpet I wanted.

I shuffled into the bathroom and caught sight of myself in the mirror. My hair was a bird's nest, my pajamas askew. "Good morning, gorgeous," I mumbled to my reflection.

I splashed cold water on my face and brushed my teeth, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep. By the time I made it to the kitchen, my older sister Cate was already there, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, her blonde hair perfectly styled.

She sat with immaculate posture at the kitchen island, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her computer. I shuffled to the fridge to grab cream for my coffee. Her mug sat beside her, steam rising in curling tendrils.

She glanced up from her laptop with an arched brow. "Rough night?"

I closed the fridge with my hip. "Something like that."

I fixed my coffee and took a sip, savoring the rich flavor. At least Cate's coffee was top notch.

"You know, Alaina," she began, in that condescending older-sister tone, "if you got more sleep, you wouldn't look like a zombie every morning."

"Sleep makes people less tired? Let me write that down." I sat down across from her, cradling my mug. "You're up early."

"Big presentation today," she said, looking at me over the rim of her coffee cup. "And speaking of big things, when are you going to get a new car?"

"Not this again, Cate. We've been over this. I love my Mini Cooper."

"Alaina, that car is a death trap," she said, exasperated. "It's older than some of my clients. It's almost older than you."

"It's not that old," I protested. "And besides, just because something's broken doesn't mean it should be thrown away."

Cate rolled her eyes. "That's exactly what it means."

"How would the car feel just sitting in a lot somewhere rotting while I whipped around in a fancy new ride?"

She smirked and went back to typing on her laptop. "I think it would feel pretty neutral, considering it's an inanimate object."

"Not funny."

She pointed at Beau, my fifteen-year-old golden retriever, who snored softly in his dog bed in the corner. "You have a weird complex about letting go of things. Look at Beau."

I followed her gaze and sighed. "Beau is family."

Cate shook her head. "And so is that pile of scrap metal you call a car, apparently."

"I just love our morning coffee chats, Catie Cat," I said, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. She wrinkled her nose but didn't pull away. "But I have to go. I'm late."

"You're always late."

"I'll make it to school on time," I assured her.

Assuming my car actually started. It needed help but a mechanic would charge me an arm and a leg to fix it. Unlike my big sister, I wasn't rolling in dough.

She was a big-time marketing executive. I could never afford an apartment like this or drive a Mercedes. I didn't care either. Stuff like that was not what made me happy. I was frugal. I believed in squeezing every last ounce of use from anything I bought, and I made sure every dollar I earned was stretched as far as it could go.

It probably had a lot to do with growing up poor. Cate got rich and enjoyed the lavish life. I did okay but still lived like I might not have money to buy a loaf of bread tomorrow. In that respect, we were polar opposites.

That wasn't the only way we differed. She was tall, thin, and gorgeous. She could easily be mistaken for a supermodel. She also loved fashion. Me? Not so much. Maybe that was because fashion designers made clothes for her body and not so much for my shorter, thicker frame.

"Do you need a ride to work?" she asked, clearly not convinced this conversation was over.

"No, thanks. I'll manage." I grabbed my purse.

She looked up from her laptop and let her gaze do a full sweep of my body. Her nose crinkled. I hurried toward the door, knowing what was coming, but I didn't move fast enough. She gave a shake of her head. "Alaina, really?"

I hung my head. "What?"

"Are you really going to wear that?"

I looked down at my outfit. "What's wrong with it?"

"Cherries? Really? I'm pretty sure that went out in the eighties and it's never coming back in style."

I turned back to her and tugged down the blouse with bright red cherries printed all over. "It's cute. The kids love it."

"You should wear heels," she said, pointing at my red flats. "You look like you're going to click your heels together and wish for home. You should be setting an example."

"The shoes match the cherries on my shirt. And clothes are hardly what sets a good example."

She slapped a hand to her forehead. "Why are you like this?"

"I wonder the same thing about you," I said.

"I swear, I'm going to take you shopping."

"There is this really cute second-hand store I found that specializes in vintage clothing," I told her. "We can go shopping there."

"No, no, no," she sighed. "Bloomingdales. Neiman Marcus."

"No thanks," I said. "I have to get going. I'll see you tonight."

"You know your car isn't going to start," she said with a sigh.

"If it doesn't, the occasional sprint through inner-city Chicago is good for my soul."

"Or bad for your health," she muttered. "Be careful, Alaina."

"I always am," I lied, heading for the door.

The morning air was brisk. Chicago was hotter than hell in the summer and colder than my sister in the winter. And it was only fall. Last week it had been hot enough to leave everyone sweating and now I had to cram my hands under my armpits to keep them warm as I walk-ran to my car, teeth clenched so they didn't chatter.

"Okay, please be nice to me. I need you to start today. I know it's a Monday, but I really need you to work."

I turned the key and got nothing.

"Shit!"

There was no point trying again and again. I already knew what the outcome would be. Walking to work wasn't so bad. Once it got colder, it would be a different story. I would worry about that when it happened. I joined the many other Chicago residents who preferred to walk rather than fight traffic in the busy business district.

The wind whipped my hair into my face as I set off down the street. The streets were bustling with activity, even at this early hour. I tripped over something on the sidewalk and nearly fell on my face. It looked like it was going to be another one of those days.

As I passed by a local diner, the smell of bacon and freshly brewed coffee wafted out the door, making my stomach growl. I quickened my pace, not daring to indulge. I was already late and stopping for breakfast would only make it worse. I had a candy bar in my desk. It would hold me over until lunch.

I was fumbling with my purse, trying to get my phone out to check the time, when I stepped into the crosswalk. The honking of horns barely registered until I felt a strong hand yank me back onto the sidewalk—hard enough to drop me on my ass.

A car raced through the space I had just occupied. My heart was in my throat as I looked up, ready to thank the person who saved me from certain death.

He was tall, dark, and incredibly handsome, with a chiseled jaw and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right into my soul. His height was daunting, and I had to tip my head back to really get a good look at him. His jaw flexed as he regarded me with cool irritation frosting his gaze.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he demanded, his grip still firm on my arm.

"Uh, no," I stammered, my brain struggling to catch up.

"You were almost roadkill," he muttered.

I blinked, still trying to get my head around what had almost happened.

He glowered down at me. "And you should pay more attention to where you're going."

"Yeah, well, I was distracted," I said defensively as I got to my feet. "By, uh, life."

His expression didn't soften.

I was a nervous laugher, and an anxious giggle bubbled out of me that sounded embarrassingly high pitched in my own ears. It was totally inappropriate and socially awkward, but that was me. "If you let me get run over, maybe I could have gotten an insurance payout big enough to cover the student loans I'm drowning in."

His expression was hard to read. I couldn't tell if it was shock or disgust. It was definitely not amusement. I felt like such an idiot.

I sized him up, noting the expensive suit and the air of confidence. He was one of the finance guys that worked in the area. He wouldn't know what a student loan was, and nothing he wore was from a thrift shop.

He finally released my arm.

"Thanks," I said, with a mock curtsy. "And thank you again for saving my life, kind sir."

He looked at me like I was nuts. "Just watch where you're going."

My face burned. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked across the street with the other pedestrians. When I glanced over my shoulder, he was still watching, a bemused smile on his face. He shook his head and turned back to the group of suited businessmen standing in line for a coffee at a little cart.

By the time I made it to work, my heart had stopped racing, but my cheeks still felt hot. I was grateful for the chaos of children that greeted me. Kids were easier to deal with than handsome strangers who saved you from near-death experiences. Kids didn't mind that I was a total klutz and maybe just a little goofy.

I smiled and waved at some of the other teachers as I made my way to my classroom. The STEM academy I taught at catered to the wealthy elite in the city. I felt very lucky to be able to do a job I absolutely loved. People thought I was crazy for being a math nerd. I had even been a mathlete in high school. It was my calling. And what better way to give back than to inspire the same passion in these eager young minds?

I rushed down the hallway, seeing my students lined up quietly outside the locked door of my classroom. They were so well behaved without me even being there. Then I saw why.

Miss Turpin, the principal, intercepted me. "Good morning, Miss Callaway," she said in a formal voice. "Car trouble as usual?"

I nodded and gave her a contrite look. "I'm sorry. I'll leave earlier tomorrow."

She nodded once before making her way down the hall. Trudy Turpin presented like she was a hard-ass, but she was anything but. But in order to keep the kids in line, she had to make sure they knew who was in charge.

"Good morning, everyone." I unlocked the door and ushered them in.

The students marched into the classroom, all bright eyes and eager faces. Most said hello as they passed me. I put my purse in the top drawer of my desk and silenced my phone. My candy bar sat there, the shiny wrapper glistening and tempting me to take a bite.

I sighed and closed the drawer. Pushing up from my desk, I removed the cap from my favorite white-board pen and assumed my place at the front of the room.

"Let's do a warmup," I announced, scribbling equations across the board. Zippers of backpacks opened. Chatter died down. Pencils came out of cases. I grinned and faced my kids before extending the marker to them. "Who's feeling bold this morning?"