Her Sexiest Mistake by Jill Shalvis

closed, and Mia sighed. “Look, just get some sleep, okay?” When she got no response, Mia moved to the door.
    “Were you like me?” Hope whispered. “At all?”
    She turned back and searched the girl’s face. The too-black hair, lank from bad products. The black lipstick that made her look so pasty. The brow piercing. Beneath the veneer stood a painfully thin young girl, lost and achingly alone. Mia could read the fear as if it was her own, the knowledge that life wouldn’t just be accepted, that there was more and she wanted a piece of it.
    Were they alike at all? “I don’t know,” Mia answered honestly. “But it looks like we’re going to find out.”
      
    By the time Kevin entered his house again, he was drenched to the skin and a jackhammer had begun to go off at the base of his skull. A helluva day. His first summer science class had been like teaching Greek to preschoolers. Nor had he found his pot smoker, but he’d caught hell from Joe.
    Mrs. Stacy had tattled on him to the principal.
    Joe had taken great pleasure in reading him the riot act, not for wasting electricity or having kids smoke weed in his classroom, but for Kevin taking his parking spot.
    Then had come far more troublesome news. The teen center, housed next to the high school in a building loaned to the rec center, had gone up for sale.
    Unfortunately for Kevin, the owner happened to be Beth Moore, his ex, and she hadn’t been happy with him in years. She didn’t care that the town couldn’t buy the building and that her selling would probably mean closing the teen center, which in turn would leave lots of kids with no supervised, safe place to hang out.
    And speaking of safety, or lack of, he’d had three kids sneak off into the woods this afternoon. Two boys and a girl who’d come from a broken home and had no self-esteem, which made her easy prey. Thankfully, Kevin had found them before they’d talked the girl out of her clothes, but they’d all been drinking.
    Damn it. Could no one make a good decision?
    Then he’d come home and found yet another teen, dressed in wannabe Goth, poking in his drawers. Mia’s niece. And then there’d been Mia herself, eyes cool, body hot…
    His entire world had turned into one big Peyton Place.
    Mike came into the living room, dressed for clubbing in all black, hair artfully styled to look like he’d just gotten out of bed, eyes sparkling with trouble. And he’d find it, too, then be worthless for the job interview he’d set up through Monster.com for tomorrow. This was usually the portion of the evening where Kevin gave the whole be-good spiel—don’t go slutting around; you need to find a woman to love you, not fuck you; etc. etc.—but, damn, he was fresh out of pep talk tonight.
    Mike stopped in the doorway as they passed each other, and looked at Kevin questioningly. What’s your problem?
    I don’t have one. Nope, he had about fifty. He tried to go around, but Mike stepped in his way.
    It’s the hot babe, isn’t it?
    Of course not. He had all these other things going on, things that were important—Ah, hell. It was the hot babe. I’m fine. Try to stay out of trouble tonight. Which was like telling a bull in a china shop to be careful.
    She doesn’t want round two, huh?
    Kevin hadn’t wanted his brain to go there, but it was too late now. He pictured Mia in her robe, gripping a glass of wine as if it was a lifeline, looking pale and shaken and off her axis…and, damn, if that hadn’t reached out and grabbed him by the throat.
    Then she’d kicked him out. I think it’s safe to say there’ll be no round two, he signed.
    Damn shame.
    Actually, it was the smart thing. Mia had the same attitude toward sex that Mike did, and while Kevin couldn’t fault her for that, he didn’t have the gene that allowed him to sleep with someone and then move on in a blink. Go, Kevin gestured. Just don’t be stupid.
    Mike grinned. Don’t worry, Mom.
    I mean it. I don’t have bail money this