Chapter 2

2

ROAN

S wiveling in my chair, I looked out over Chicago, it stretched out before me. The tall buildings with their shiny exteriors gleamed in the early autumn sun. It was a beautiful day, one of those rare moments when the weather seemed perfect, not too hot, not too cold. Despite the view and the weather, my mind kept drifting back to this morning.

What was with that woman?

"Hey, Roan!" Jake's voice broke through my thoughts.

I spun my chair around to watch him stroll into my office, his usual confident smirk plastered across his face. Jake was the CFO of our company, and my closest friend since college. He flopped into the chair across from my desk and leaned back, his hands clasped behind his head.

"Why are you staring out the window?" he asked.

"It's something called thinking," I shot back. "You're probably not familiar with it."

Jake chuckled. "Very funny. Something on your mind?"

I hesitated, debating whether to tell Jake about the morning's incident. He had a knack for teasing, and I wasn't in the mood for his jokes. But something about the encounter nagged at me, and I needed to get it off my chest.

"I almost saw someone get hit by a car this morning."

Jake's smirk faded, replaced by a look of concern. "Are you serious? Is everyone okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I managed to pull her back in time. She was so distracted she didn't even realize what had happened. It was crazy."

"Good thing you were there," Jake said, his brow furrowed. "Who was she?"

I shrugged. "No idea. Just some woman on her way to work, I guess."

"Maybe it was fate," Jake suggested with a grin. "Your damsel in distress moment."

I rolled my eyes. "Hardly. She was just some random woman."

Jake raised an eyebrow. "Random, huh? Yet here you are, thinking about her instead of the important meeting we have this afternoon."

I scowled at him. "She's not on my mind. It was just a weird way to start the day."

"Sure, Roan," Jake said, his grin widening. "We both know you don't get distracted easily. Maybe this mystery woman made an impression on you. You should have gotten her number. It's the least she could do for you saving her life."

I shook my head, trying to push aside thoughts of the woman from this morning. "It's nothing, Jake. Just forget it."

"You want to grab lunch at that new place across the street? I hear the waitresses are pretty hot. Gavin from accounting got laid the other day."

"What? He banged a waitress at lunch? Is this some kind of happy ending place? Dude, no. Gross."

Jake laughed. "Relax, Roan. I was just messing with you. Gavin went out with one of the waitresses later, not during lunch. But seriously though, I've heard their food is great. And the waitresses are hot." He pumped his eyebrows.

I sighed, shaking my head. He was a man on a mission. Jake had never met a woman he didn't want to screw. His dick was like a heat-seeking missile. I was once like him. Like ten years ago. I grew up and Jake didn't. I was thirty-four and too damn old to be chasing a piece of ass seven days a week. I had a company to run and a son to raise. Those were my priorities.

"Not today, Jake. I've got a meeting at Rafe's new school."

"Oh yeah, that fancy STEM academy?" Jake chuckled.

"I'm not sure it's fancy," I muttered. "It's a school."

"Have Rafe build me a robot secretary to replace the useless interns we got this summer," Jake said. "One with big boobs."

"You get off on metal boobs?"

"No!" he scoffed, like I was the crazy one. "In China or Japan or somewhere they're making human-like robots. Just put some fake boobs, you know, like implants, on the damn thing."

I stared at him, wondering how he functioned in life. He had the maturity level of a sixteen-year-old boy. How in the hell did I make him my CFO? When it came right down to it, he was good at his job. It was just his fuck-boy personality that was a little hard to handle.

I gave him a look. "Not everyone's here for your amusement, Jake. And besides, I'm not sure Rafe's ready for a robot army just yet. At least I hope not. I'm not sure I'm ready for my nine-year-old to be a mini-Einstein. It's hard enough being his dad. When he's smarter than me, shit is going to get complicated."

Jake shrugged. "Suit yourself. More hot waitresses for me."

"Yeah, because that's what's going to happen."

"I know you're jealous." He chuckled and walked out the door.

I packed up my briefcase, my mind wandering back to this morning. I couldn't shake the image of that mess of a woman. I had saved her from herself as much as from that speeding dickhead in the sports car.

She didn't really fit in with the other women on the street in their dull, neutral business suits. The young lady was different. She'd been so flustered, but so alive.

The outfit stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe that was why I had noticed her. She was hard to miss in it. Either it was the sweater she wore with cherries on it or the natural beauty I saw in her. Her blue eyes held such innocence. But her body? Well, her body was downright sinful with all those ample curves. That was the kind of body a man could enjoy until the end of time.

The woman was a stark contrast to the humdrum routine of my daily life. She was all bright sunshine, flowers, and rainbows and I lived in a world of black, white, and gray. I absently twisted the wedding ring on my finger and shook myself out of the x-rated thoughts that were consuming me.

I made my way out of the office. The hum of the city filled my ears as I walked toward my car. Moving to Chicago had been a big decision. It wasn't one I took lightly. I had done it for my son.

Rafe's new school was the main reason for the change. The prestigious private academy he had attended in New York wasn't the right fit for him. Despite its elite status, Rafe had struggled there, his love for science and math making him a target for bullies.

There was nothing worse than watching your child be insulted, bullied, and on occasion hurt because he wanted to learn. Being eager wasn't a crime but I saw the writing on the wall. I knew exactly where things were headed if he stayed in that school filled with entitled little shits with no one putting them in check.

They would smother his curious mind and my son would dumb down to fit in. That was unacceptable. My son was gifted. I tried to tell him being smart was a good thing and once he was out of school, he was going to see the smart, talented guys were the successful ones. He was going to make his own money and the ladies would be falling over themselves to get to him. But he was nine. To him, adulthood was a million years away. He was in the thick of it.

The charter school in Chicago specialized in STEM, and I hoped it would be a better environment for him. He was going to be surrounded by smart kids all competing to be the smartest. If anything, he was going to be bullied for not being as smart as the rest of them. But that wasn't going to happen. My kid was a fucking genius. Maybe I was a little biased.

Despite the great reviews about the school, I was skeptical. This school didn't have designer uniforms or PhD professors. There were no automatic admissions to Ivy League schools upon graduation. They were all about student-led activities, which sounded a little iffy to me. But if it meant Rafe could be himself, it would be worth it. Ultimately, I wanted my son to be happy. I wanted him to be confident. I didn't want him to withdraw and hide in his room because he had zero self-confidence.

I was supposed to meet his new teacher during the open house two weeks ago but I had been called back to New York on business. This meeting was long overdue.

I had no idea who Ms. Callaway was, but I imagined a straitlaced, tall, stern-looking woman who used to work for NASA, or the military, as some mad scientist. I didn't have an actual clue about what she looked like because she was one of the only teachers on the school's website that didn't have a picture. All I knew about her was that she got her undergrad and master's degree in engineering mathematics, but for whatever reason worked as a third-grade teacher.

I reached my gleaming black Mercedes. My hand brushed over the glossy handle before pushing it open and sliding into the buttery leather seat. The engine greeted me with a low and damn near sensual rumble that I would never tire of. I pulled sharply into traffic and a taxi driver laid on his horn. I smirked, accelerated, and hammered the gas pedal, leaving him behind.

Pulling into the parking lot of the school, I took a moment to scrutinize the building. It was a modern structure with large windows and colorful murals adorning its exterior walls, a stark contrast to the imposing, stoic structure of Rafe's previous school. It looked vibrant, full of life. It looked like a place kids would actually have fun.

There weren't guards standing outside the doors. There weren't limos lined up waiting to pick up the children of wealthy businessmen and politicians.

I got out of my car, straightened my tie, and made my way toward the entrance. It was important to present an image of authority. I believed in dressing for success. People needed to fear me. They needed to know I wasn't someone to fuck with and neither was my kid.

I had arrived before my scheduled meeting. Punctuality was important to me. I walked through the hallways, noting the cheerful decorations and the general sense of chaos that seemed to accompany any place filled with children. I paused to look at a case filled with trophies and ribbons from various robotics and math competitions. I looked at the faces of the kids holding up the prizes and posing with the creations they had made.

They looked like Rafe. Not just like him, but they weren't wearing designer clothing and perfectly posing for the camera. They were normal kids wearing normal kid clothes and they looked happy. That was what I wanted for Rafe. I wanted him to celebrate using that big old brain he had.

I moved on, looking at the numbers on the doors in search of the one I was looking for. I reached the classroom and knocked lightly before stepping inside. A woman stood at the whiteboard, drawing little rainbows. I arched one eyebrow, wondering if I was in the wrong place. Rainbows in math class? That felt a little childish.

She turned around with a smile on her face. I froze. It was her. The woman from this morning. The cherries on her sweater should have been a giveaway, but it didn't click until I saw her face.

"There must be some mistake." I didn't realize I had said it out loud until she responded.

"Excuse me?" she said.

"I'm here to meet with Ms. Callaway," I said, glancing at my watch. "I only have twenty minutes. Could you find her for me?"

"Sure," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She turned in a circle, then said, "Here I am."

We stared at each other, both equally stunned.