Enemies Abroad(73)
Principal O’Malley’s still bitter about his $20, but after some persuasion, he let Audrey and me keep our classrooms right next door to each other. Every day, we eat lunch together in Audrey’s classroom. Every day, a teacher walks by, stops, and clicks their tongue in disbelief that the rumors are really true. Gil still gloats about his winnings.
Having had a break from chaperoning the Rome trip, Mr. and Mrs. Mann realized they didn’t have the energy for it anymore and happily passed the torch to Audrey and me. For three summers now, we’ve taken a group of ten students to Rome during the month of July. We take the kids to all our favorite sites and we make sure to pay a special visit to Giuseppe and his family. Standing together in their small kitchen, Eva shows the students how to make homemade pasta, and after, we sit around the table eating our culinary creations and practicing our Italian.
This summer, with the blessing of our family and friends—Melissa and Kristen even helped me pick out the ring—I’m going to propose to Audrey inside the Palazzo Colonna, which is the location of the famed last scene in Roman Holiday where Princess Ann chooses duty over love and Joe Bradley walks away from her forever.
This time, I’ll promise Audrey the ending will be happy.
I hope you enjoyed your Italian vacation with Noah and Audrey in Enemies Abroad. For another fun teacher romance, continue reading for a sample of my #1 bestselling romantic comedy Not So Nice Guy.
SYNOPSIS
* * *
“Oh my god. Who is that?”
* * *
I get asked this question a lot.
* * *
“Oh him?” I reply. “That’s just Ian.”
* * *
Just Ian is the biggest understatement of the century. Just the Mona Lisa. Just the Taj Mahal. Just Ian, with his boring ol’ washboard abs and dime-a-dozen dimpled smile.
* * *
Just Ian is…just my best friend.
* * *
We’re extremely close, stuck so deep inside a Jim-and-Pam-style friendzone everyone at work assumes we’re a couple—that is until one day, word spreads through the teacher’s lounge that he’s single. Fair game. Suddenly, it’s open season on Ian.
* * *
He should be reveling in all the newfound attention, but to our mutual surprise, the only attention he seems to want is mine.
* * *
He’s turning our formerly innocent nightly chats into X-rated phone calls. Our playful banter sports a new, dangerous edge.
* * *
I want to assume he’s playing a prank on me, just pushing my buttons like always—but when Ian lifts me onto the desk in my classroom and slides his hands up my skirt, he doesn’t leave a lot of room for confusion.
* * *
I’m a little scared of things going south, of losing my best friend because I can’t keep my hands to myself. So, I’m just going to back away and not return this earth-shattering kiss—oh who am I kidding?!
* * *
Goodbye Ian, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal!
* * *
Helloooo mister not so nice guy.
Chapter 1
Samantha
This morning, we’re having sex inside the army barracks again. It’s hot and heavy. The enemy is advancing—we might not make it out alive. Explosions rumble in the sky and in my pants. I’m sweating. Ian started out wearing camo fatigues, but I ripped them off with my teeth. That’s how I know I’m dreaming—my mouth isn’t that skillful. In real life, I’d chip a tooth on his zipper.
My alarm clock fires another warning shot. My waking mind shouts, Get up or you’re going to be late! I burrow deeper under my covers and my subconscious wins out. Dream Ian tosses me over his shoulder like he’s trying to earn a Medal of Honor and then we crash against a metal bunkbed. Another indication that this is a dream is the fact that the fleshy part of my butt hits the corner of the bunk yet it doesn’t hurt. He grinds into me and the frame rattles. I scrape my fingers down his back.
“We’re going to get caught, soldier,” I moan.
His mouth covers mine and he reminds me, “This is a war zone—we can be as loud as we want.”
A staccato burst of machine-gun fire erupts just outside. Heavy boots begin stomping toward the locked door.
“Quick, we’ll have to barricade it!” I implore. “But how? There’s nothing useful in here, just that standard-issue leather whip and my knee-high combat boots!”
He hauls me up against the door and we lock eyes. The wordless solution suddenly becomes clear: we’ll have to use our own writhing bodies as a sexy blockade.
“Okay, every time they kick the door, I’m going to thrust, got it? On the count of three: one, two—”
Just as my dream gets to the good part, my phone starts blaring “Islands in the Stream” by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton. Cool 80s country pop serenades me at max volume. There are synthesizers. I groan and jerk my eyes open. Ian changed my ringtone again. He does it to me every few weeks. The song before was another silly throwback tune by two old kooks.