At Last: Adams Brothers, #1

By Mindy McKinley

Her whole life, Lula Stanley has wanted one thing—to find her father. When her grandmother's failing health threatens to leave her with no family at all, the quiet literature teacher will stop at nothing to locate the man her mother tried so hard to hide. With her life in a tailspin, she doesn't have time for anything else, especially romance. But after she catches the eye of the hottest teacher at East High, Lula finds it nearly impossible to focus on her family's past with such an appealing man in her present. 

 

High School history teacher Dominic Adams can get any woman he wants, and has. But a chance encounter with Lula at a jazz club changes everything. Now, he only wants her, and will do whatever it takes to make her his.

 

As Dominic and Lula grow closer to each other and to solving her family's mystery, it becomes clear that some things are best left in the past. Will the promise of true love give Dominic and Lula a future, or will the truth of her history tear them apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
• Release date: Nov 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781949931938

Book preview

Chapter 1

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Lula

Lula screamed in frustration as she landed hard on her butt. It felt bruised. What the hell?

It was a shock to be upright one second and on her ass in the parking lot the very next.

The contents of her canvas bag surrounded her like ticker tape and she groaned when she saw the literature essays she had spent hours grading the night before sopping up the contents of her thermos.

Eyes shut, she took a deep breath before she let out a stream of curses that would have shocked even the hardest of freshman boys.

Are you all right?

She looked up toward the sky with a cringe as the sound of Dominic Adams’ sensuous voice came from behind her. It made her shudder inwardly like the low, luxurious sound of a violin’s open G.

Why him of all people?

Yes, Lula grumbled, I’m fine, thank you. She hated how ungrateful she sounded, but she was wholly unable to stop it. She had hoped no one had seen.

Dominic squatted in front of her and peered into her face. Instead of looking up like a normal human, she concentrated on the way his thigh muscles moved beneath his perfectly pressed pants. Hey. His voice was gentle, forcing her to acknowledge his presence. He was holding his hand out expectantly. Let me help you, please.

After a beat she breathed out, Fine, and put her hand in his. He pulled her up with an efficient, not unimpressive show of strength, and took extra care that she had her balance.

She felt her cheeks burn when she finally made eye contact.

Hey, he said reassuringly. He was still holding her hand gently as if she were a small, breakable child who needed help finding her grownup. Are you really okay? That was a hard fall.

She slid her hand out of his to break the disorienting effect of his touch and, hopefully, cool her cheeks, but the friction of their skin together had the opposite effect.

Yes, I’m fine, thank you, she whispered and then crouched down to scoop up her things, hoping he would leave.

He didn’t. Instead, he knelt to help her.

Of course he did. This was just not her day.

Every woman at the school, every woman everywhere, swooned over Dominic Adams. Not only was he chiseled to perfection, but he also had adorably tousled sandy brown hair and the greenest most seductive eyes she had ever seen.

It was a dangerous combination without the toned body, genuine kindness, and soaring intelligence. With it, he was downright lethal. He checked boxes most women didn’t even know they had. And he did it with humor and an ever-present smile. It wasn’t fair.

Lula had worked very hard not to be pulled into his sexy vortex like everyone else. He was gorgeous, she couldn’t deny that, but there was also a reputation that went with him that she wanted nothing to do with.

They worked in silence while she angrily plucked sodden essays from the ground and he chased after her alarmingly large collection of colored pens with a bemused grin that made her somehow even more irritated. It was damn hard work to keep from imagining him without his neatly-pressed and delightfully fitted button-up shirt.

He was smiling his stupid lopsided smile at her when they stood. All good?

All good, she repeated and then tried to smile; it was more of a pained smirk. Thanks.

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. He looked boyish, delectable. It was really no problem, Lulu.

His grin made her stomach buzz so intensely that she didn’t bother to correct him.

His mouth twitched. Did you know you sound like a bobcat when you’re frustrated?

Oh god.

You have a good day. He winked. And be careful, okay?

All she could do was nod.

Dammit, Lu.

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Dominic

Hey, Dom, how was your weekend?

Hey, Chaz. Dom fell in step with his friend as they walked down the hall of Chicago’s East High School, their voices bouncing off the walls of the empty hallways. Amazing, as usual.

Chaz laughed in his open, friendly way. I bet it was. He pulled their office door open. What was her name this weekend?

Dom grinned, his friend knew him far too well. Sandra.

The blonde with the long legs?

His grin widened into a reckless smile.

Chaz let out a low whistle. Man, you are going to have to leave some women for the rest of us.

Hey—Dom held his hands up as if he had no control over the situation—Can I help it if women find me irresistible?

I was thinking arrogant would be a better fit.

Dom laughed and pretended to be momentarily hurt. And here I’ve left you all the single teachers at East High School.

Which leaves like, what, two options? Yeah, thanks, man.

Chuckling, Dom began putting his things away in his desk. It wasn’t as if Chaz needed any help. He had his own fair share of weekend stories that put a few of his own to shame. He was a good guy—a bit of a commitment-phobe—but Dom didn’t have any room to judge on that matter. He was just glad to have a friend in the department that was unmarried and under the age of thirty-five. If he never had to listen to another discussion of sciatica, it would be just fine with him.

I don’t know, Dom suggested, Mrs. Monroe was looking pretty good last week, did you see those gams?

"Those gams, Chaz returned easily, haven’t seen the light in over sixty years. And, he added as he took a seat at his desk, I’m grateful for that."

Laughing, Dom settled into his own chair. They were the first ones in the small office they shared with four other teachers and they made use of the rare alone time to fully expound on the merits of Sandra’s athletic prowess. She had been, in a word, flexible.

He was just about to describe a particularly delicious moment when the door burst open.

Oh, hey, guys, the tiny, frazzled-looking blonde gushed as she entered the room with an overlarge bag and a coat she could never seem to button properly. With three toddlers and an asshole husband, frazzled was pretty much her permanent state. Dom suspected she was always at the edge of losing it, and stood in awe of her ability to keep it together day after day with class after class of freshman challenges.

Morning, Sarah, they both answered, their conversation coming to a full stop. Sarah would have died on the spot had she heard the words that had been about to come out of Dom’s mouth.

It was for the best anyway, he had worksheets and daily plans to pull together before the bell rang. He enjoyed his seed-sowing weekends but he took his job seriously. He was a teacher first and foremost, and he never went into his classroom unprepared. The students at East could smell a teacher winging it from the parking lot and would swoop in like vultures. He shuddered at the thought.

Still, he let the memory of Sandra’s very long legs bring a smile to his face as he packed everything he needed into his bag for the morning. He grabbed his coffee, tossed a Catch you at lunch over his shoulder to Chaz, and made his way to his classroom.

His very pleasant thoughts were interrupted with a Hey, Adams, just before he got to his classroom.

Shit. He had almost made it. Almost. He bit his tongue before he said what he was thinking and turned around with what could not possibly have looked like a real smile. Josh, he acknowledged. What can I do for you?

Josh Martin was toxin at the building. A macho, self-absorbed gossip that was more full of himself than an engorged tick. Had he not led the school football team to three championships in a row, everyone knew damn well he wouldn’t still have a job.

I saw you this morning with Miss Stanley; I’ve never seen anything like that, man. He let out a laugh. That chick should come with a warning label. He shook his head at his own joke but cleared his throat when he noticed Dom was not amused. Nice of you to help her though, he backpedaled.

Truthfully, Dom had forgotten about the incident with the quirky Literature teacher. Mostly because she was squarely on the forgettable side. She was young and had a fresh, sweet face, but if she had a body or any sex appeal at all she kept it well-hidden under mismatched skirts, leggings, and really, really odd sweaters.

Today’s sweater had been bright sunshine yellow in the center of which was a large owl and the words who dat? scrawled below. Her mass of unruly brown hair was usually piled right on top of her head and she had a color collection of eyeglasses that would make Rainbow Brite jealous.

He could never quite work out what she was going for, but he respected her; she was an amazingly dedicated teacher, and he didn’t see anything funny about her getting hurt.

I’m sure you would have done the same thing, he said coolly before pushing the door open to his room, effectively ending the uncomfortable conversation.

As he readied his room for the day, his irritation with Mr. Martin faded and was replaced with thoughts on his first hour lesson. His AP students were his favorites. Truly, he loved all his kiddos, but this class seemed to really share his passion for history. Every day he marveled that he could pass on the love that his father instilled in him to a new generation.

Hey, Juan, he said as the first kiddo entered his room. He was sleepy-eyed and looked like he was about to fold under the weight of his backpack. Are you ready to learn about the Napoleon today?

Sure, Mr. Adams, he answered and plopped in his chair, ’cause you’re going to make me whether I am or not.

Dom laughed and handed him the study sheet he would need.

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Lula

You’re kidding me, Amy breathed, bright blue eyes wide. He touched your hand?

Lula groaned and shushed her friend. They were standing in the back of the school library and every word sounded as though it came from a megaphone. That’s not the point, I made a fool of myself with him, I could barely talk. She crinkled her nose and tried to forget the way his strong fingers wrapped around hers. And he said I sounded like a bobcat.

Amy laughed but then shook her head when Lula flashed her a look. "Listen, Dominic Adams touched you and that is all you need to know about why your brain didn’t work. She raised a brow and leaned in. I once saw a high-powered lawyer lose her complete shit over him. It’s not really like you have a choice. It’s biology."

Lula sighed, she loved her best friend, truly, but this was not helping. You don’t really believe that, do you?

Normally I wouldn’t, but there is just something truly primal about that man. A smile played at her pretty lips and Lula got the feeling she was mentally undressing him. She let out a sensual mmm.

Lula threw her hands up. All right, I’m done with you. She laughed. Don’t you have a library to organize?

That I do, lunch later?

Every day, Lula blew her a kiss before she left.

Miss Stanley! a young voice called her from behind as she stepped out into the hallway.

Lula smiled and turned to see one of her favorite students bounding up to her, breathless. Kaylee Briggs was a near carbon copy of herself in high school, a socially and physically awkward, book-loving, straight-A student.

Good morning, Kaylee, how are you today?

I was thinking something classic; I feel like I haven’t delved deep enough yet, she answered, still bobbing with enthusiasm. I would really like to start with some English authors but don’t know where to start.

Kaylee, you’re going to have gone through that entire library before the end of the year. She was trying to sound exasperated but, honestly, having a student this excited about reading was one of the great joys of her career.

Kaylee smiled. I hope so.

All right, what are you looking for this time around? Classics? Nonfiction? Contemporary?

I was thinking something classic; I feel like I haven’t delved deep enough yet, she answered, still bouncing with enthusiasm. I would really like to start with some English authors but don’t know where to start.

Lula’s little high school heart leaped for joy. I know exactly where you should start. Let me create a list for you and I’ll try to have it to you by the end of the day, how does that sound?

Kaylee let out a squeal and did a little dance. That sounds amazing, Miss Stanley, thank you SO much.

No problem, she said and laughed as her younger self, braids included, ran off down the hallway.

Chapter 2

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Dominic

Hey, Mom, Dom answered his cell as he drove home from school. It had been a good day and he was buzzing nicely after a quick, post-work beer with Chaz.

Dom, she cooed lovingly, how is my oldest boy?

You mean your best-looking, right?

She laughed. All of you are too handsome for your own good.

Her voice gave away the fact that she was still at work. She’d always had a distinct voice she used at the office. He had dubbed it Boss Mom when she had been studying for her real estate license when he was twelve. It wasn’t the cleverest nickname of all time, but it had stuck..

Well, that’s true, he agreed. How are you? How is the Real Estate Queen of Chicago?

She laughed in her way that was both flattered and embarrassed. He imagined her pink nail polish catching the light as she waved away the idea. Oh, stop. I’m just doing my job. I think I might have a deal for Clifton Manor, but I have a million details to tie down before I get excited.

He beamed through the phone; Clifton Manor hadn’t sold in ten years. It was a pariah, a dead weight for any real estate agent. No one wanted it, and it had taken his mother all of three months to make a sale on it. He was impressed. Wow. Nice work, Boss Mom.

He turned into the driveway of his townhouse and parked the car.

Anyway, she brushed aside his praise. I was just calling to make sure you were coming to dinner this Sunday. She was trying to sound airy but her voice wavered enough to make his gut churn. She never was very good at hiding her emotions.

Dom had a feeling he knew what this was about—she was dating; he’d noticed the pink cheeks and furtive text messages last time he’d been over for dinner.

He hated how itchy it made him, as though his skin was going to crawl right off his body. It wasn’t fair; she’d earned the right to enjoy her life—she’d been a rock since his father’s tragic accident twenty years ago. But he just couldn’t get over the feeling that it was somehow a betrayal of the man who raised him. It was silly. He knew it was silly, but it didn’t stop how he felt. It was as if he was twelve all over again.

Dom swallowed and tried to steady his voice. Of course, first Sunday of the month, I wouldn’t miss it.

Oh good. She breathed in a way that confirmed his suspicion. It will just be so wonderful to have all you boys there. It’s been so hard to lock Seb down, but he’s in town now for a few months.

The and he could feel coming made him twist his hands on the steering wheel in preparation. The leather groaned.

And, she continued slowly, I have something I want to talk to the three of you about.

He counted to five, bit his tongue, and then answered as brightly as he could, I’ll be there.

"I’m so glad," she gushed, clearly relieved.

Uncomfortable silence filled the car.

Just let me know if you want me to bring anything, he offered awkwardly.

A nice girl would be lovely, she deadpanned.

Ha. His laugh came out dry. He had to give her credit for trying. I meant food.

"I know, dear, I just want to see you settled—

Down, he finished. This had been a heavily repeated conversation since he had graduated college. She seemed to think he could handle a full-time teaching job, research and writing his manuscript, and dating in any meaningful way. It was out of the question. Even if he wanted it.

He didn’t.

Sorry, honey. Her voice was softer. I know you know how I feel ... seven o’clock Sunday, okay?

Okay, he answered.

I love you, Dom.

I love you, too, Mom. Go get that manor sold.

She chuckled and hung up the phone.

With a groan he unfolded himself from his car and headed inside, hauling his leather bag full of worksheets and research.

After throwing his keys on the table, he dialed his brother Mason, if anyone knew what might be up with their mother, he was the guy. And he didn’t really want to wait until Sunday for confirmation. It would eat his stomach from the inside.

Dom, Mason answered, what’s up, man? He could hear the sounds of his younger brother’s workshop in the background.

Hey, Mace, how’s it going?

Pretty good, business is good, I just sold a slew of tables to that new boutique hotel down on Michigan.

Dom smiled, Mason had created AdamsMade from scratch, an up-and-coming furniture company that had steadily grown from a few chairs in the garage to a ten-member team in an industrial part of town. To say he was proud of his brother would be an understatement.

Congrats, man, that’s amazing news.

It will be when the work is done. He blew out a heavy breath. I’m going to be pretty fucking tired of these little tables. Anyway, what’s up?

Dom circled the same spot in the kitchen a few times. I was just wondering if you knew what Mom wants to tell us on Sunday.

Mason didn’t answer for a moment, as if he were choosing his words carefully. "I think it has something to do with a boyfriend. But I don’t know for sure."

That’s what I was afraid of. Dom sighed, leaning against the counter.

I know how you feel, man. I’m trying to be supportive but ...

Yeah.

I’ll bring beer, Mason offered weakly.

Make it whiskey and I might survive.

Mason laughed. You got it. I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll see you Sunday.

See you, Dom answered and ended the call.

"Fuck." He bit out, slamming his phone on the counter. He wasn’t angry, just something, and he didn’t like it.

It had been a long week already and hadn’t gotten shit done on his research. Now this.

Thankfully, Dom had reserved this night for hours of desperately needed uninterrupted writing. He would open a beer, pop a pizza in the oven, and work until he dropped.

He pulled on an old Cubs T-shirt, some workout pants, grabbed said beer, and settled into his office.

The