“I guess there’s nothing left to say. Welcome to Dalhousie Elementary School; if you need anything, be sure to let Ava, Chloe, or me know.” The corner of her mouth twitches for a brief moment, and I try not to wonder what the hell that’s about. “Ava will escort you to your classroom.” Some more twitching of her mouth and she stands up. “Good luck, Mr. Reed.”
I’ve been doing this job long enough to interpret body language and speech patterns. It comes with the territory. Which is why I catch the you’re-royally-screwed, barely suppressed laughter in her tone.
Not exactly reassuring, but a bunch of kindergarteners is hardly a big deal. I’ve served overseas, been shot at, taken down the enemy.
There’s nothing these kids can dish out that I can’t handle.
“Okay, soldier, let me show you around,” Ava says.
We step out of the office.
“Ava, there’s a call for you on line two,” the secretary tells her. “You can take it in Mr. Hauge’s office. He’s not in until later this morning, so he won’t care if you take the call there.”
“Thanks, Jeanine. I’ll be right back,” she tells me and disappears into the room.
The main door to the office swings opens, and a woman enters. Her wavy, shoulder-length hair is the color of a new penny, and she’s wearing a cream knit top with tiny blue flowers and black slacks. Her makeup is on the minimal side, natural.
Christ, she’s fucking gorgeous.
A thick stack of books sits perched in her arms, and her purse dangles from one shoulder.
She takes a step forward as her bag slides down and hooks on the door handle. She continues her forward momentum, but the bag has other plans. Half her body jerks back, and the books tilt precariously in her arms, threatening to crash to the floor.
I spring forward, grabbing for the books as they begin their descent.
Realizing she’s about to lose her precious load, she attempts to hug it to herself and stumbles into me. Forgetting about the books, I instinctively grab her around the waist, bringing her hard against me.
The books hit the floor with a series of loud bangs.
A shocked gasp releases from her soft pink lips, and I loosen my hold on her—much to my body’s annoyance.
“Sorry.” I step back and start collecting the books from the floor.
She crouches to do the same. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s my bag and the door handle who owe us an apology.” A strand of hair falls in her face.
She shoves it behind her ear as I chuckle at her comment. We both stand up, our arms full of books.
“Where do you need these?” I ask.
“My classroom, but I need to talk to Principal Woodnut first.”
“She’s expecting you, Chloe,” Jeanine says.
Chloe?
This is the woman I’m supposed to be dating? She looks nothing like the picture in the folder Liam gave me yesterday when he told the team about the mission.
Chloe’s a fairly common name. For all I know, there’s at least two of them in this school.
“Hey, Chloe,” Ava says from behind me. “I see you’ve already met Landon—Zoe’s replacement while she’s on maternity leave.” To me, Ava says, “You’ll be teaching in the classroom next to Chloe’s.” She flashes me a meaningful expression.
I guess that answers my question. This is the Chloe Reinhart whose grandfather is facing life in prison.
“Today’s his first day,” Ava adds.
Chloe’s eyes widen. “Zoe’s on maternity leave? I thought she was working until winter break. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. Just a slight change of plans. I’m giving Landon the tour; then he’s all yours.”
I turn back to Chloe. “Since I’m headed that way, do you want me to drop the books off in your classroom?”
“That’s okay. I can manage.” She reaches for them.
I jerk the books away from her.
“Are you sure? I can at least help and take those two.” She points to the ones on top of the pile.
“I’m positive.”
She nibbles her lip in a move that’s so goddamn sexy.
Get your mind in the game, Scorpio.
“Okay.” She scurries off to Woodnut’s office, leaving me with Ava.
A short time later, after Ava has shown me all the sights and explained the ins and outs of our day, we step into an empty classroom.
“And this is where you’ll be spending the next few weeks…less, if you’re lucky.” She walks to the teacher’s desk—my desk—and picks up a folder from it. “This is your attendance list.”
I survey the territory. A fucking rainbow exploded in here. The drawers against the walls, the rug in the corner of the room, the stout bookshelves, the posters with cartoon illustrations, the half-dozen squat tables with pint-sized chairs—it’s all a multitude of bright colors, and it makes Principal Woodnut’s office look dull.
Shit. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
4
Chloe
I enter Principal Woodnut’s office, and at her request, take a seat, pushing all thoughts from my head of the incredibly sexy substitute teacher.
The sexy teacher who will be in the classroom adjoining mine for at least the next four weeks.
“Jeanine said you wanted to talk to me,” Principal Woodnut says, breaking me from my thoughts.
“That’s right. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I volunteer several days a week at Golden Sunshine Retirement Village. And well…they need our help. Or rather, the students’ help.”
She leans forward, planting her elbows on the desk. “You have my attention.”
“Every December, Millwood Elementary School puts on a concert for the residents. They love it. For some seniors, it’s the only real interaction they have with kids. Their own grandkids aren’t in their lives much.” If at all. “Unfortunately, the school had to cancel for this holiday season, which means the highly anticipated Christmas concert won’t be part of the residence’s tradition this year. The seniors are extremely disappointed.”
“And you’re hoping our students can perform at the Christmas concert instead?”
I nod.
She leans back in her chair, her expression soft but unreadable. “Unfortunately, the decision for something like this isn’t completely in my hands, even if I do believe it’s a marvelous idea. I can give my stamp of approval, which is the first step.”
“Whose hands is it in?”
“Tabitha Windhouse’s.”
At the name, my heart spirals downward and hits my stomach with a loud oomph.
Tabitha Windhouse. The president of the PTA.
And the woman who, for some reason, doesn’t like me—although heaven knows why. I’ve never taught either of her kids.
“Why’s it in her hands and not yours? You’re the school principal.”
“The woman has clout with the school board you can’t even begin to imagine.” Principal Woodnut leans forward again as if to share a national secret. Her next words come out in a hushed whisper, barely heard over the heater whirling in the background. “Sometimes, I swear the woman has ties to some sort of mafia. I’ve learned to pick my battles; otherwise, she finds loopholes that work in her favor if she’s against the idea.”
At the detested word, “mafia,” my entire body feels as though Elsa from Frozen has turned it into a block of ice. “Surely she can’t be that bad.”
Principal Woodnut releases a long yes-she’s-that-bad sigh and nods. “But I’m sure she should be fine with you doing this—except for one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Zoe’s the one who organizes the school performances, and she’s now on maternity leave.”
“I don’t suppose her replacement has the same musical theatre experience and the expertise to pull the show together?”
A barked, raspy laugh escapes Principal Woodnut. “I can guarantee Landon doesn’t have that kind of expertise.”
/> Before I can think things through, I blurt, “I can do it. I can organize the show.”
Please say yes. Please say yes. Please—
“Absolutely, if Tabitha and the PTA are on board with it, and you’re willing to organize the show yourself—with the help of any faculty who volunteers to assist you—then you have my blessing. But remember, we don’t have much of a budget for this, so you’ll have to figure out how to keep it within the allotted amount. And that includes transportation to and from the seniors’ residence.”
“Perfect. I can do that.” Buzzing with relief and excitement, I stand.
Principal Woodnut glances at the Mickey Mouse clock on her desk. “You’d better get to class. Kiera will be letting the students in shortly.”
Right.
I head for the door.
“Oh,” she adds before I get there, “and can you help Landon since he’s new…to teaching elementary students?”
“He is? What age group has he worked with?”
“High school.”
High school? God, I can only imagine what a disaster that would’ve been, with impressionable teenage girls falling in love with him because he’s good-looking. Talk about awkward.
“Does he have any experience working with kindergarteners?”
“No, that’s why he might need your assistance from time to time. You might consider keeping the door between your classrooms open, so you can hear if the kids prove to be a handful for him.”
That causes me to startle. Why would she hire him if she didn’t believe he was capable of dealing with that age? He can’t be the only available person who could cover for Zoe. “Okay. I can do that.”
“Attagirl.”
I enter my classroom a few minutes later and open the adjoining door. Ava’s laughing, and Landon has a big grin on his face.
She spots me and waves me over to join them. “I was giving Landon a few pointers, and we were catching up a little.”
“Catching up?”
She nods. “That’s right. We went to college together.”
“Back when she and her husband were first dating,” Landon points out.
I vaguely know the story about how Ava and her husband were college sweethearts, but then something happened, and they broke up until a few years ago when they bumped into each other and quickly fell in love again.
Romantic Me sighs dreamily. Their story sounds like a Hallmark movie.
Nothing close to mine.
“Well, good luck, Landon,” she says. “But I’m sure you won’t need it.”
“And I’m next door,” I tell him. “If you have any questions or need my help, just ask.”
“I’ll see you two at lunch.” Ava hurries out the door.
“Good luck,” I throw out at Landon and return to my classroom. Thoughts of how I can convince Tabitha that the Christmas concert is a great idea perform the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy in my head.
Humming the music to myself, I walk to the side cabinet and look inside the large cage on top of it.
“What the heck are those?” Landon asks from behind me.
A surprised gasp breaks free from my lungs. “Wow, way to sneak up on a girl and give her a heart attack.” I clasp my hand against my heart in mock exasperation. “What were you in your former life? A ninja?”
“Something like that. So what are those things?” He points at the three sleeping hedgehogs cuddled together in the corner, his eyebrow raised in jest or quizzical concern.
“My classroom pets. This is Pinecone.” I point to the hedgehogs in question. “And this is Thistle, and Tumbleweed.”
“I don’t have any classroom pets, do I? No snake I failed to notice or some sort of rodent.” His tone is laid-back, as if nothing scares him.
“No, Zoe doesn’t have any pets. I have these three because a friend of mine was moving, and she wasn’t allowed pets in her new apartment. There was no way I could let them go to a shelter. Who knows what would’ve happened to them?”
“So you adopted them?”
“I figured they would make great classroom pets, and the kids love them.”
“You love animals, then?”
I grin. “I do. Pets are wonderful for reducing stress. That’s why dogs make great therapy animals and reading companions for kids who struggle with reading.”
“Do you have any? Dogs, I mean?”
“No. These three are the only pets I own. I’m not home enough to be a dog owner.”
“Have a busy social life, do you?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it a social life. I volunteer several evenings and on the weekend at a local seniors’ residence.” The school bell rings, echoing through the building. “You should go into your classroom now. The herd will be stampeding in there any minute, and the last thing you want is to be in here when they do.”
He salutes me, and I watch him go, pretending it has nothing to do with the view.
He really does have a nice ass—I mean shoulders.
Nice shoulders.
5
Landon
The classroom silence dissolves into chair scraping and chatter, along with squeals and laughter, as pint-sized beings tumble in through the door from the hallway.
“Where’s Mrs. B?” one little girl asks, her long red hair in two pigtails. She’s wearing a purple sweat shirt with a sparkly pink elephant on the front.
“She’s on maternity leave, and I’m taking her place until she returns.” Or until Chloe is no longer in danger and the FBI has her cousin in custody—both of which I’m hoping happens long before Zoe’s maternity leave ends.
“What’s ma-tur-me-key leave?” a blond-haired boy with black-rimmed glasses asks.
“Ma-ter-ni-ty. It’s when the mother-to-be stops working for a few months, so she can take care of the baby.”
The two kids and several others stare at me with blank expressions. Another kid comes running into the room, his arms held out like he’s an airplane, and he’s making loud engine noises.
“You’re big,” Pigtails announces, looking up at me as though I’m a skyscraper. “You’re bigger than my daddy.”
“He’s bigger than a mountain,” someone else says. I don’t know which one because I’m too busy watching the kid pretending to be an airplane climb onto the table.
“Mister.”
I feel someone tug on my shirt sleeve. I look down to find a kid attached to it.
“Mister.” Tug. Tug. “He’s not supposed to be on the table, and I need to go to the bathroom.” Tug.
“Okay, take your bathroom buddy with you, but come right back once you’ve finished.”
He doesn’t wait for me to say anything else. He goes charging from the room, buddy in tow.
“What’s his name?” I ask Pigtails and point to the kid on the table.
“Trevor. Has Mrs. B had her baby yet?”
“No.” I walk to the table. “Trevor, we don’t climb on the table. Both feet on the floor, please.” I help him down.
A loud shriek rips through the air from the other side of the room. I turn to witness water spraying from the sink, soaking the two kids standing there.
“Is everything okay?” Chloe asks, her head poking through the adjoining doorway.
“Hi, Miss R,” the boy with glasses says. “Did you know that Mrs. B is on ma-tur-me-key?” He looks pretty proud of himself even though he mangled the word again.
“Yes, I did, Tommy.” Chloe walks over to the two shrieking kids and turns the water off. Neither had bothered to move out of its range of fire. Water drips from their clothes, forming a puddle on the floor.
“I’m wet,” the little girl whines.
Chloe smiles sweetly at them. “You certainly are. But I’m sure we can find something in my forgotten-clothes box for you to wear while your clothes dry.”
To me, she says, “There’s a mop around the corner. You can use it to dry the floor.” She points to the corner she’s referring to.
“All
right, everyone,” she says to the class, her voice loud enough to be heard over the noise. “Time to take out your writing practice book and sit in your assigned seat. What letter did you learn to write on Friday?”
Most of the kids answer “H”—with a few other letters called out.
“That’s right,” she says. “For the next few minutes, I want you to practice writing the letter H.” And like magic, the rowdy bunch of kids hustle to the small, colorful plastic drawers, pull out their writing books and pencils, and march themselves to their seats and sit.
Chloe winks at me and escorts the two soaked kids into her classroom.
“I’m going to clean up the mess,” I announce to the class, “and then we’ll get started. I don’t want to hear any talking while you practice. Capisce?”
“What does ka-peesh mean?” Pigtails asks.
“Do you understand.”
She shakes her head. “No, that’s why I asked.”
“No, that’s what capisce means. Do you understand.” And because I want to show who’s in control of this pony ride, I walk away, having the last word.
Five minutes later, the two soggy kids are in dry clothes, the entire class is busy practicing Hs in their workbooks, and I’ve taken attendance.
Chloe is back in her classroom with her own kids. The morning goes by relatively fast, once I get the general gist of what the hell I’m doing. It’s pretty easy actually—walking-through-a-pit-of-hungry-alligators-without-getting-eaten-alive kind of easy.
But I’ve got this. I didn’t survive the SEALs just to be taken down by a bunch of kids.
Chloe and I are assigned the first recess duty. We get the kids dressed for outside and funnel them out the rear door of the building. The other two kindergarten classes join us, but the teachers stay inside and shoot back whiskey—or whatever they do to get through the day with the incessant questions and fidgeting.
“You seem to be doing okay so far,” Chloe says as we watch the kids run around the field. Some of them are chasing soccer balls. Others are climbing over the playground equipment like ants on a piece of pastrami. “Kindergarteners must be quite a shock to the system after working with high school students.”
Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2) Page 3