What happens when kindergarten teacher Nicola comes face to face with her high school bully, now a single father to her favorite student, Arabella?

Cole Harrington never imagined he'd be raising his daughter alone after the tragic loss of his wife. Struggling to connect with Arabella, he's stunned to see her blossom under the care of her teacher, Nicola. Desperate to give his daughter the stability she needs, Cole proposes an unthinkable solution: marry Nicola, the girl he tormented in high school.

Nicola is determined to stay professional, but sparks fly as old resentments and unexpected attraction collide. Can Cole prove he's a changed man and win Nicola's heart? Or will their tumultuous past keep them apart?

Get ready for a rollercoaster ride of passion, redemption, and sizzling chemistry in this steamy romance where love might just heal old wounds and create new beginnings. Dive into the fun and fiery journey of Nicola and Cole as they navigate their way from enemies to lovers!

Nicola Taylor

I massage my temples as I step into my classroom, bracing myself for the parade of parents awaiting me. I adore my kindergarten students, even the little troublemakers, but meeting their parents is the most daunting part of my job. While some parents are delightful, most are overbearing, with unrealistic expectations for their five-year-olds. Their questions range from typical concerns about eating habits to issues better suited for a pediatrician.

I take my seat as parents start trickling in for the open house, each eager to discuss their child’s progress. I smile and share insights based on my experiences with their kids. By the time I reach my fifteenth parent, I force a smile and say, “Mrs. Lopez, you need to stop worrying so much. Billy is a great kid. He’s a bit less social than the others, but he will make friends in his own time. He’s an introvert, and that’s perfectly okay. There’s nothing wrong with your child. He’s lovely and a pleasure to teach.”

Mrs. Lopez, visibly holding back tears, confides, “I worry because I’m a single mom and I have to work so much. He’s often alone, and I wish he had friends.”

My heart aches for her. “I understand. I’ll make sure he sits with some of the friendlier students and encourage them to get to know each other. But even without friends, Billy is a sweetheart. You should be proud of him. You’re doing an amazing job.”

She finally smiles, her relief palpable. “He loves you as his teacher. Anyway, I’ve been here for half an hour. Other parents are waiting. I’ll get out of your hair.” She stands up, and I smile back, wondering how I’ll get through the next fifteen parents.

The next two hours blur by with complaints, concerns, and occasional blame. When the parent-teacher meeting finally ends, I feel drained and regretful about spending my Sunday this way. As I start packing up, I notice that Arabella’s father or nanny didn’t show up, which isn’t surprising. He never attends these meetings, but I was shocked that her nanny didn’t come either. The principal always bends over backward for these wealthy parents because of their generous donations to the school.

Just as I’m about to leave, I hear a knock on the door. It’s my friend and fellow teacher, Steph. “Hey, we’re all heading out to eat and gossip about the parents. Want to join?” she asks excitedly.

I shake my head. “I’ve spent half of my Sunday here. I think I need some time to myself.” The thought of a cold coffee and a grilled cheese makes my mouth water.

I can’t wait to go home.

As the door closes behind Steph, I let out a long sigh, feeling the exhaustion settle into my bones. Parent-teacher meetings were always a mix of emotions, but today had been especially draining. I pick up my bag and start organizing the paperwork on my desk, thinking about the little moments from today that had made me smile—like Billy’s mother finally feeling reassured, even if only a little.

Just as I’m about to turn off the lights, I hear another knock on the door. I consider ignoring it, but my sense of duty kicks in.

“Come in,” I call out, trying to sound more energetic than I feel.

The door opens, and to my surprise, our principal, Mrs. Black, steps in with the biggest smile on her face. She ushers in someone that makes my whole body freeze.

What the actual fuck.

Cole Harrington. The guy who made high school a living hell for me. What is he doing here? As my brain starts processing the information, my eyes widen.

Arabella Harrington. Cole Harrington. She’s his daughter. How did I not know this?

Maybe because she is a sweet but troubled child and he is a monster.

“Ms. Taylor, you wouldn’t mind, would you?” Mrs. Black shakes me gently by my arm, snapping me out of my daze.

“The meetings are over. It’s five o'clock,” I murmur absent-mindedly, looking up at the man towering over the two of us at a height of 6’2, who was too busy reading something on his phone.

“Ms. Taylor,” Mrs. Black flashes a smile at Cole before glaring at me. “That’s fine. He’s a busy man but also a good father. He’s come here, and I want you to help him out. Alright?”

I suck in a deep breath, struggling to speak, and end up just nodding my head.

“Alright. I’ll leave you two be. Thank you for coming, Mr. Harrington, and thank you for last year’s donation. The children absolutely love the playground.” She flashes him another big smile before leaving as he continues to act like he is alone.

As the door closes behind her, I finally take a proper look at Cole. He’s even more handsome now, with a rugged charm that wasn’t there in high school. He’s grown taller, standing at an imposing 6’2, and his broad shoulders and muscular frame suggest he’s been spending a lot of time at the gym. His once clean-shaven face now sports a well-groomed stubble that adds to his striking appearance. His green eyes, though filled with a hint of annoyance, still have that same intensity that used to make my heart race.

Cole sighs, breaking the spell. “Can we hurry this up? I’m only here because it was suggested by her nanny that Arabella has been misbehaving and as her father, I should be here. So please, let’s get started.” He barely looks up from his phone.

Ah, I see where his daughter is learning her manners from.

“Alright, please take a seat.” I smile, but he doesn’t notice. He sits down, continuing to type on his phone.

“Maybe you should have sent Mrs. Kinsley. She at least listens to me with undivided attention because she really cares about your daughter.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop myself. All the anger I’d felt for him over the years for teasing and mocking me just comes rushing in out of nowhere.

My heart beats against my ribcage as he keeps his phone aside, finally looking up at me. His jaw clenches, and his green eyes turn dark with anger. For a moment, I feel like the same fifteen-year-old girl who was left locked in a classroom for two hours as a prank.

Cole leans forward, his gaze piercing. “Ms. Taylor,” he says in a low, controlled voice, “I’m here because I care about my daughter, regardless of what you think. Now, can we proceed with discussing her?”

Swallowing hard, I force myself to stay calm. Mrs. Black would kill me if I am rude to his highness.

"Of course. Arabella is a bright and talented girl, but she seems to be struggling with some behavioral issues. She’s been acting out in class and having difficulty following instructions."

He listens intently, his gaze piercing yet unreadable. Despite the professional setting, there's an underlying tension between us that I can't ignore, "What do you suggest we do?"

He knew I hated him.

"Consistency and positive reinforcement work wonders at this age. Perhaps spending more time with her or involving her in activities that require teamwork could help," I suggest, my voice steady despite the subtle electricity in the air as he maintains an eye contact.

He nods slowly, his eyes still fixed on mine. "I’ll see what I can do. Is that all?"

As he stands to leave, I can’t help but feel how a person who troubled me for years doesn’t recognize me anymore. Of course he doesn’t. The bullies are just having fun while giving the person they bully lifelong trauma.

"Alright, I don’t think you understand. You need to spend time with your daughter. She feels alone and she is sad. She doesn’t have a mother and I am sure as painful as it might be for you, I hope you can understand what she is going through," I assert, the tension between us palpable.

"Okay, what is your problem?" he asks, his voice a bit sharper, but his eyes betraying a flicker of intrigue. "I know how to raise my daughter. I took your advice, listened to you. That’s the end of it. Stop acting like you know me. I take care of my daughter and I do spend quality time with her."

"I do know you. You are Cole Harrington. You and your little clique in high school tormented me for years. You locked me in empty classrooms, sabotaged my homework when I didn't comply with your demands, and destroyed my projects, which resulted in me getting my first F. One time, one of your friends poured soda over my head while you all laughed. Do you want me to recount more of the awful things you've done?" My voice trembles with suppressed emotion, my face flushed with anger as I confront him.

Cole's expression shifts from confusion to realization, a flicker of guilt crossing his features before he masks it with a defensive stance. His gaze meets mine, and for a moment, he feels bad but I knew he still didn’t recognize me.

"What? I don’t recall doing this to you. I don’t even know you," he responds, confusion momentarily replacing his earlier demeanor.

"Nicola Taylor," I say firmly, watching his confusion give way to recognition. "Or as you might remember me, Grizzly bear."

"What happened to you? The braces and the—" he starts, struggling to find the right words.

"The gal-stache or my weight?" I interject, a hint of defiance in my tone. I wasn’t skinny like a model now, but I wasn’t as heavy as I used to be in high school.

"I’m sorry, you look very different. I didn’t recognize you," he admits, his gaze lingering on my face longer than necessary. "Alright, about high school, I am—"

"I don’t want to talk about that. But I know you, and from this brief interaction, not much has really changed. Sure, now you don’t go around bullying people, but you still have that same superiority complex where no one except those in your status matters. As someone who has seen your worst side, take care of your daughter. She used to be a sweet girl, but now she is being disrespectful and misbehaving a lot. I’m sure something awful in your life led you to bully me, but don’t let your daughter end up like you. It took me two years of therapy to get over all the pain you and your little group put me through!" My voice rises with anger, unable to contain itself.

"Alright, whatever I did was my doing. Don’t drag my daughter into this by projecting my behavior onto her. She barely has any memory of her mother, and that’s why she is acting out. I know my daughter and I know what’s going on with her," he responds, his tone sharpening as his own anger flares, pulling me out of my heated state.

Our eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. "Okay, you are right," I finally concede, refocusing on Arabella's well-being. "These are a few school events parents usually attend with their child. I am sure it would mean the world to her if her father attends it instead of her nanny. I think your daughter is a sweet but troubled girl and I just want to see her smile again."

I force a smile, handing him the brochure. As he takes it, our fingers brush, sending a jolt of awareness through me. He looks at me, his expression softer but he looks defeated and tired.

"Okay, thank you. Um, Ms…" he trails off, struggling to remember my name.

"Ms. Taylor," I fill in, a small smile playing on my lips as I meet his gaze. I could hold onto my anger and be rude but that’s not going to lead me anywhere.

"Right, Ms. Taylor," he murmurs, his voice slightly husky, before quickly looking away, embarrassed because I had just proven my point.

He didn’t care enough about others.

"Alright, I will see you around," he says, his tone a mixture of professionalism and guilt, “Thank you for your time.”

My mom was right.

Kill them with Kindness.

Nicola Taylor

"Let go of his hair, Arabella. No, don’t do that," I say urgently, finally freeing Tim's hair from Bella's grasp as I lift her up to calm her down. My assistant teacher rushes to Tim’s side to check on him.

I carry Bella out of the classroom, her fits continuing in my arms. I sit down on a bench outside, placing her on my lap. Her face is flushed with anger, her gaze fixed angrily on the ground.

"Baby—" I begin, but she cuts me off abruptly.

"Punish me, I don’t care. I don’t want to hear more lectures!" she screams, startling me with the intensity of her outburst.

"I’m not going to punish you," I say gently, but Bella refuses to look up. "But I can tell you’re hurt and feeling bad, right?" I ask, trying to reach her.

She nods angrily.

"So if you know how bad it feels when you’re hurt, why would you want someone else to feel that way? Tim is crying inside because you hurt him. He feels bad now too. Does that make you feel better?" I ask, stroking her hair gently.

She shakes her head no, finally relaxing in my arms. The tension slowly eases, and Bella leans into me, her anger giving way to remorse.

"Bella," I begin again softly, "it's okay to feel upset, but hurting others isn't the way to handle it. You're a kind and smart girl, and I know you can find better ways to express your feelings."

Bella's gaze flickers up at me, her eyes still brimming with frustration but also a hint of vulnerability. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, her voice wavering, “He kept throwing my crayons away.”

"Next time, he or anyone troubles you. You can come to me.” I reply gently, tightening my embrace around her.

Bella nods slightly, her anger dissipating further. She leans into me, seeking comfort, and I hold her close, feeling the weight of the moment settle between us. The tension from earlier seems to melt away as we sit together on the bench, the sounds of the school day continuing around us.

After a few moments, Bella lifts her head, her expression softer now. "Can we go back inside?" she asks quietly.

"Of course," I say with a reassuring smile, brushing a stray hair from her face. "Let's go back in and see how we can make things right with Tim, okay?" I tell her as we walk back to the class.

As the clock strikes 2 o'clock and I'm preparing to leave for the day, the principal's assistant intercepts me, summoning me to her office. I enter hesitantly, and she gestures for me to take a seat.

"Nicola, this is strike three. Tim’s parents are going to be furious. Go and talk to her father once. We might have to remove her otherwise, and that would cause our school a lot of loss. Figure out a way to discipline this child. This cannot keep happening," she asserts firmly.

"But Tim also troubles her a lot. Many parents have complained about Tim troubling their kids too," I counter, hoping to explain the context, but her expression remains unmoved.

"Yes, but physical violence? In my school? Go and talk to her father at once," she insists again, her tone brooking no argument.

"Wait, he has to come here. Why would I go there?" I protest, reluctance coloring my voice at the thought of facing my old bully.

"He's a billionaire. They don’t come to schools. We go to them. Any more questions?" she replies briskly, already anticipating my objections. "The school chauffeur will pick you up from the house and drop you there, don’t worry. I just got off the phone with Mr. Harrington; he said he'll be home by 6. You can go there by 7. It shouldn't take more than half an hour, in my estimation."

"Do I have a choice?" I ask, though I already know the answer, frustration simmering as I resign myself to the task ahead.

As much as I dreaded it, there was no avoiding the meeting with Cole Harrington, especially after the incident involving Bella and Tim. Reluctantly, I agreed to the principal's assistant's plan, knowing that the repercussions of not resolving this could be severe for both Bella and the school.

The drive to the Harrington residence was smooth but felt like an eternity. Thoughts raced through my mind—memories of high school bullying, the fear of confronting Cole Harrington again, and the weight of responsibility for Bella's behavior.

I don’t think I ever want to have kids.

Arriving at the sprawling estate, I was greeted by an imposing mansion surrounded by manicured lawns. The chauffeur escorted me to the front door, where I was met by a butler who led me to a tastefully decorated sitting room.

Wow, and I am still struggling to pay my car loan on time.

I sat nervously, waiting for Mr. Harrington to arrive. The clock ticked by slowly, each minute stretching into what felt like an hour. Finally, at precisely 7 o'clock, Cole Harrington entered the room.

He was just as I remembered—his damn brown unruly hair tousled, hinting that he had just showered. He wore a plain white t-shirt that accentuated his muscular arms and broad chest, paired with black pants. His aura exuded authority, filling the space around him effortlessly. Our eyes met briefly, and in that fleeting moment, I caught a flicker of recognition before he composed himself with practiced ease.

"Ms. Taylor," he said, his voice measured but polite, "can I offer you some coffee or water?"

"Oh, it's fine, I'm good, Mr. Harrington," I replied, trying to maintain my composure despite my nervousness. Being here, around Cole, made me distinctly uncomfortable. All I wanted was to go home.

He took a seat opposite me, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence hung heavy between us.

Finally, Cole broke the silence. "I understand there was an incident involving Bella and a boy," he began, his tone businesslike yet tinged with concern.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I gathered my thoughts. "Yes, Mr. Harrington. Bella has been struggling, and it's led to some unfortunate conflicts at school… again," I explained carefully, choosing my words to convey the seriousness of the situation without directly accusing his daughter.

Cole listened intently, his expression inscrutable. "I see," he murmured after a moment. "But she mentioned that Tim keeps troubling her. As a father, I think I would prefer it if she defends herself."

"That's true, but the school aims to avoid physical violence, and—" I began, only to be interrupted by a cute giggle.

"Miss Taylor!" Bella exclaimed, bursting into the room and running straight into my arms. I couldn't help but smile as she settled onto my lap. "What are you doing here?" she asked happily, hugging me tightly.

Cole’s demeanor softened slightly as he watched Bella's affectionate interaction with me.

"I came to talk to your dad about school," I answered Bella with a gentle smile, glancing up at Cole.

Bella's face lit up. "Oh, Dad I promised Miss Taylor I won’t repeat it again and I will her if someone bothers me instead of hitting them." she told her father sweetly, “am I still in trouble?”

I chuckled softly, reassuring her. "No, sweetie, we're just talking about how we can make sure everyone gets along at school."

Bella seemed satisfied with that answer, and she hugged me again before looking up at me, "Can you stay and play with me and have dinner and have ice cream with me?" she asked eagerly.

"Oh honey, I don’t think that’s possible. I have to leave after I am done talking to—" I stopped as I saw her eyes filling with tears, which soon started falling down her chubby cheeks.

"But I will be n-nice and I-I will b-behave," she said, her voice trembling as she cried, wiping her tears away with her small hands.

"Can you stay for some time? Bella could use some time around you," Cole asked, and the desperation in his voice was audible. I felt bad for making the assumption that he was a bad father. He seemed like he was trying to do his best.

"Sure," I said without a second thought, making Bella jump in happiness.

"Yay! I am going to bring all my toys, Miss Taylor. Wait here," she exclaimed, running towards her room, but Cole stopped her by picking her up with one hand.

"But now that Miss Taylor is staying, you have to promise me a few things. You will eat all your food for the rest of the week? No pouting and complaining." he said, and she happily nodded her head before running upstairs to her room.

As Bella disappeared from sight, Cole and I were left in an unexpected and slightly awkward silence. He cleared his throat, looking slightly relieved. "Thank you for agreeing to stay. Bella... I feel like she needs a woman. I feel like even though she doesn’t remember her mother, she feels something is missing.”

"It's no problem," I replied, still processing the turn of events. "She's a sweet girl, and I don’t mind helping in any way I can."

Cole nodded, his expression softening. "She really likes you. It's been hard for her, losing her mother and adjusting to me as well.” My stomach drops as I look at the wedding ring on his finger. How could I not see this? Bella isn’t struggling because she misses her mother but Bella is struggling because her father is too grief stricken to be there for her all the time.

"Yeah, I understand. I guess I'll stay for an hour and then I have to leave because the chauffeur has to go home too," I told him as we stood awkwardly in the living room.

"Please stay for dinner. I'll drop you home. You can ask him to leave," he said, and I looked at him, unsure of what to say.

I liked his daughter and felt bad for him, but I didn't want to be alone with him.

"Are you sure?" I finally asked, trying to buy myself a moment to think. "I don't want to impose."

"You're not imposing," Cole said firmly, his eyes earnest. "Bella would love it, and... well, it would give us a chance to discuss more about her situation."

I hesitated, but Bella's earlier excitement and the genuine concern in Cole's voice swayed me. "Okay, I'll stay," I agreed, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

Cole's expression softened with relief. "Thank you. I'll let the chauffeur know."

We heard Bella's excited footsteps before we saw her, and she reappeared, arms full of toys. "Miss Taylor, look! I brought my favorite dolls and cars," she announced, spreading her collection on the floor.

I joined her, engaging with her toys and making her laugh, while Cole watched us with a mixture of gratitude and something else—something warmer, softer, that made me feel a bit unsettled yet intrigued.

Dinner followed soon after, a simple but delicious meal prepared by the household staff. Bella was on her best behavior, her earlier outburst seemingly forgotten. Bella chatted animatedly, her joy infectious as Cole couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter.

After dinner, we indulged in Bella's much-anticipated ice cream. As she devoured her treat, Cole and I exchanged a few glances, the initial tension between us slowly giving way to a tentative understanding.

As the evening drew to a close, Bella's energy began to wane. She hugged me tightly, her earlier tears a distant memory. "Thank you for staying, Miss Taylor. Today was the best."

I said goodbye to Bella, who couldn't stop hugging me before she went back to her room, leaving me alone with her father.

"I ordered an Uber, actually. You don't have to—" I began, but he didn't respond immediately. He stared at me for a moment, then glanced at the clock, which showed it was 11 PM.

"Can I talk to you in private for a minute?" he asked, the seriousness in his voice both scaring and intriguing me.

"Sure," I said, my curiosity piqued and a knot forming in my stomach.

Nicola Taylor

“Where are we going?” I asked, following him through his gigantic house. “You know it's already 11 PM. Arabella shouldn’t be up so late.”

“She’s with Ms. Kinsley, who tucks her in bed and stays there till she falls asleep,” he replied. I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to ask why he didn’t do it himself. Who am I to judge a person’s parenting style?

“Are we in your bedroom? This is highly inappropriate. I need to leave,” I said, but he just shut the door behind us.

“Relax, I just need to talk to you,” he said, gesturing to the bed. I shook my head, my eyes falling on the pictures of his late wife. Her jewelry, clothes, all her belongings were still in the room.

This man is heartbroken.

“Alright,” I said, sitting on the bed. For some reason, I felt comfortable. I looked him in the eyes as he stood two feet away from me.

“Marry me.”

I choked on my spit, coughing as soon as I heard the words come out of his mouth. “Is this… (cough cough)… a joke?” I said as he patted my back to help me.

“No. My parents have been forcing me to get married again for Arabella’s sake, and I didn’t want to because what if I picked the wrong woman and she doesn’t treat Arabella well? For the first time, my daughter finished her food, spoke the way a child should, and had fun. You make her happy, and she might actually grow up to have a good childhood with you in the picture,” he explained. I stood up, staring at him with wide eyes as if he had gone crazy.

“Cole, I still hate you. I was being professional for the sake of my job and your daughter’s well-being. I would die before I marry the man who tormented me my whole life. Secondly, I want to get married for love, not because you need someone for your daughter,” I yelled at him angrily, expecting him to get angry too, but he remained calm.

“Married for love? You’re thirty years old. Are you dating anyone?” he asked, making my anger rise. “I’m asking you to consider it for Arabella’s sake. She needs someone like you in her life.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside me. “Cole, this is insane. You can’t just propose marriage out of nowhere because of your daughter. There are other ways to support her without dragging me into your life.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing my words. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I don’t expect you to say yes immediately. But please, think about it. I have never seen her so comfortable around someone.”

“What’s my first name? Do you remember?” I asked him. He closed his eyes, clearly knowing he was going to mess this up. “Cole, it’s sweet that you care so much about your daughter, but I refuse to marry a man who is still in love with his late wife. I feel for you, I really do. But you will find a good woman who will love Arabella. This isn’t the way,” I told him as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“What do you want? I will do anything. I need you to marry me,” he said in despair, making me huff sadly as I rubbed his back, trying to make him feel better.

“Cole, I don’t think you are the person you used to be, but I still don’t want to marry you, and I am never going to say yes. If you need my help with Bella, I am here for you. But I can’t do anything more than that. Also, my name is Nicola,” I told him as I sat next to him, not knowing how to help a widower.

“I didn’t want a child, but I loved Courtney, and she really wanted children, so I agreed because why wouldn’t I love something that’s half her? But I told her I didn’t know how to raise a child, and she told me she would take care of everything. She was around for Arabella for barely a year before she passed away in an accident. Now I love Arabella more than life itself, but I don’t know how to raise her. She is always so unhappy. I don’t know what to do,” he said, his voice turning hoarse, making my heart clench.

This is so sad.

I sighed, feeling the weight of his words. “Cole, I can see you’re trying your best. And I can help with advice and guidance, but marriage isn’t the answer here.”

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and hope. “If it wasn’t for Arabella, I wouldn’t really have a reason to live you know.”

“Then start by spending more time with her. Show her that she matters to you. Let her see that she’s your priority,” I said gently. “You don’t need to be perfect, Cole. You just need to be there.”

He nodded, absorbing my words. “You’re right, and I need you to tell me where I go wrong. Please marry me.”

“Okay, you’ve gone insane,” I said with a huff, smacking his arm hard in anger.

“Nicola.” My heart stopped as I stared into his green eyes. “I am sorry for everything I ever did to you, and I will do anything to make up for it.” Electricity coursed through my veins as I felt him envelop my small hand in his big one on my lap.

The heat of his hand seeped into my thigh, making it hard to breathe. “Please take me home,” I said, my voice deep as I tried to shake off the lightheadedness I felt.

“Will you consider my offer?” he asked, and for some reason, I couldn’t say no.

I nodded, a huge grin spreading across his face. He stood up from the bed and pulled me up swiftly. His touch was firm yet gentle, sending shivers down my spine.

“Come on, I’ll drop you home,” he said, his hand resting on the small of my back, leading me out.

The drive home was filled with an electric silence. I could feel the tension between us, thick and undeniable. His hand occasionally brushed against mine, sending jolts of electricity through my body each time.

When we reached my place, he turned off the engine and looked at me. “Thank you for today. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said softly, his eyes locking with mine.

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. “Goodnight, Cole,” I said, opening the door to step out.

“Goodnight, Nicola,” he replied, his voice a deep, husky whisper that sent another shiver down my spine.

As I walked to my front door, I could feel his eyes on me, the tension still palpable even with the distance between us. I closed the door behind me, leaning against it as I tried to steady my racing heart.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.