Getting Schooled

by Parker, Ali

I leaned to the side to press my lips to the top of Paxton’s head. “I love you, kiddo.”

  “I love you too, Dad.”

  Emelia stood at the curb on the other side of the picket fence around her property. She was looking the other way when I came down the street, and I stole the moment to soak in the sight of her.

  She looked different than usual.

  She’d traded in her signature look of jeans and a blazer for something a little sexier, which made me think she knew this thing between us had potential to be more than just a little fling.

  Her legs were on display in a dark blue dress cut two inches above the knee. It was form fitting, with a wide neck that showed off her collarbones and a long sparkly necklace. Her hair was half up and half down, hanging in loose curls around her shoulders. A cardigan was effortlessly draped over her shoulders, and she had on a pair of medium-height black heels.

  She looked incredible.

  When I pulled the truck closer to the curb, she looked in my direction and smiled as she came to the passenger door. Her lips were strawberry red and shimmery, a subtle plea for a sweet kiss. She hopped up into the passenger seat, put her small silver purse between her feet, and put on her seatbelt. “So where are you taking me?”

  I grinned and put the truck in drive. “You’ll see.”

  Emelia crossed one leg over the other and rested her hands upon her knee. “Mystery. I like it.”

  I itched to put a hand on her bare knee, too. But I resisted. The night was still young. Barely started, in fact. “You look beautiful.”

  Emelia’s cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, and she averted her gaze, blinking bashfully at her lap. “Thank you.”

  “Is Linden with Marie?”

  “Yes. They’re going to make home-made sushi. She’s an ambitious one, trying to make at-home sushi with a five-year-old.”

  I chuckled, picturing Marie in the kitchen with Linden at Emelia’s house. “Marie is pretty capable in the kitchen. You might be returning to your son a newly made chef.”

  Emelia giggled. It was a glorious sound. Like wind chimes in a soft summer breeze. “I wouldn’t have any complaints about that.”

  “Sounds like a good Mother’s Day.”

  “We should all get together one day to cook a meal,” Emelia said. Then she blinked. “In the future. You know. If things…” She trailed off and covered her face with one hand. “I’m rambling. Ignore me.”

  I grinned. So I wasn’t the only one getting ahead of myself. “Neither Paxton or I have any allergies.”

  “What?”

  “No allergies. The cooking possibilities are endless.”

  “Oh.” Emelia’s smile was like a very bright light radiating from her side of the truck. “That’s good to know.”

  I palmed the wheel and took a lazy right-hand turn to follow the road into the downtown core of Annapolis. At twilight, the town was painted in warm hues as the sun went down over the tree line to the West. The horizon was pink and orange while the rest of the sky turned an ever-darkening shade of indigo. In a half hour or so, the stars would appear, and Emelia and I would have a perfect view of the night from our patio table at Trattoria, the most popular Italian restaurant in town.

  The food was exquisite, as was the service, and it was the most romantic place in town I could think to bring a girl like Emelia.

  If we were in a big city, I’d have more options. But I’d take what I could get.

  And I already knew my view would be dazzling: her in her blue dress, sipping a glass of wine, her glossy lips shimmering in the candlelight.

  Yes. This was going to be a perfect evening. I could feel it in my bones.

  Chapter 20

  Emelia

  Trattoria didn’t look like a restaurant that belonged in Annapolis.

  In fact, it looked like it belonged along the edges of an Italian Piazza. The building itself was old, made of brick, and a little rundown. But that only added to its charm. The front of the restaurant had been opened up with glass garage doors that were currently open and lying flat along the ceiling inside. The patio was framed in a wrought-iron fence, off of which hung little lanterns holding flickering candles. Hanging plants were strung up on posts, their leaves and petals dangling over the heads of the customers, giving the place a soft and authentic feeling.

  When we arrived, a server took us from the front door and through the interior. It smelled like tomatoes and cheese and savory goodness. We followed her out one of the open doors onto the patio, where we were delivered to a table right at the edge of the patio.

  Jace pulled out my chair for me and tucked it in after I took a seat. He put a hand lightly on my shoulder. “They have blankets if you get cold. Would you like me to ask for one?”

  “I’m all right,” I said.

  Jace sat down across from me. Our server, a tall young man dressed in a white button up and black slacks, pulled a notepad from his server’s apron. He clicked out his pen and smiled at both of us. “Good evening. Can I start you off with some drinks?”

  Jace took the lead and ordered us each a glass of wine. Malbec. Argentinian. The server took note and gave us a minute to look over the menu while he fetched our drinks.

  “You have good taste,” I told Jace.

  “I’m glad you think so. I don’t know much about wine.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “Damn it,” he mused. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  The menu overwhelmed me with options, and my mouth watered as I scanned through them. “What’s the right choice? Everything looks so good.”

  “Are you more of a classic pasta girl or an adventurous pasta girl?”

  I looked up at him and arched an eyebrow. “Why do I feel like this is a trick question?”

  He laughed and shook his head at me. “It’s not. I just don’t want to give you the wrong recommendation.”

  I pursed my lips. “Classic.”

  “Very good. Me too.”

  “You’re a classic pasta girl?” I teased.

  His cheeks actually flushed. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  I giggled. “You sure?”

  “Fairly sure,” he said, a foolish grin playing on his lips as he pushed the top of my menu down to point at the cannelloni dish. “This is one of my favorites. It never lets me down. But you can’t go wrong with any of the choices. Trust me.”

  I closed the menu. “Cannelloni it is. You’d better not be leading me astray, Mr. Reynolds. I won’t forgive you. I take my pasta very seriously.”

  “My kind of woman.”

  The air between us crackled with heat, and it wasn’t from the candle flame.

  Jace wasn’t holding back this evening. He was nicely dressed in a white button up, black tie, denim jacket, and black pants that fit him perfectly. His shoes were shined and matched his belt, and cuff links winked at his wrists when he reached across the table to take my menu and set it down on top of his, alerting the server that we were ready to order.

  He looked pretty damn fine.

  The way the candlelight and the setting sun lit up his features had me feeling some kind of way. His skin appeared even more tanned than normal, and his eyes twinkled. The contrast of the light made his sharp jaw even sharper, casting his throat into shadow.

  I was a lucky girl.

  “Does Linden know you’re out on a date?” Jace asked.

  “No. Does Paxton?”

  Jace nodded. “I told him. I have to ease him into changes. And if this,” he pointed his finger back and forth between us, “turns into something, I’d rather him have seen it coming from the early stages rather than spring it on him later down the road.”

  I licked my lips. “Makes sense.”

  “Is that all right?”

  It was more than all right. And it was confirmation I was looking for. Jace was taking this just as seriously as I was. Not only was he considering his son first and foremost in all of this, but he was also aware that there was a
real spark between the two of us. Something worth chasing.

  “How is he taking it?” I asked.

  “Paxton is slow to accepting change. It’ll take him a while to come to terms with it. I think he interprets it as his mother getting more and more out of reach. If that makes sense.”

  That didn’t make me feel very good.

  Jace sighed. “I wish I could change things for him. Make it easier.”

  “The only thing that will make it easier is time.”

  Our server returned with our glasses of wine and whipped out his notepad as we took our first sips. He asked for our orders, and Jace ordered for us, starting us off with a shared salad to hold us over until our meals arrived. It was a good call. My stomach had already been grumbling for two hours.

  The server took his leave, his notepad clutched in his hands, and Jace and I turned back to each other while we sipped our wine.

  It was delicious.

  “So,” Jace said slowly. “We leave the kids out of it for now? I’ll keep Paxton in the loop that I’m seeing someone, but we’ll maintain some distance?”

  I nodded. It wasn’t the solution I wanted for myself, but it was the solution I needed for my son. “I think that’s the right call.” I frowned. That wasn’t the right word. “It’s the responsible call.”

  “I agree.”

  I lifted my wine glass. “To responsibility and romance.”

  “Everyone’s favorite combination.”

  We shared a laugh. “At least we’re on the same page.”

  “Very true,” Jace agreed.

  After that, the topic of children didn’t come up again. Well, the topic of our children didn’t come up at least. We talked about our students. About exams and public speaking and the troublesome ones in the classroom like Kyle. We talked about what we wished we could do as teachers and what we wished we didn’t have to do.

  Like force students to take exams who were poor test takers.

  “It’s a fine line,” Jace said after our food arrived and we started in our meals. The salad bowl was half eaten between us, and between bites of pasta, we helped ourselves to leafy greens and veggies drizzled in a sweet balsamic glaze. “Every kid needs a different kind of attention. But they all need to have expectations placed upon them. I really think that’s the backbone of teaching. Expect what you know they’re capable of and help them meet that bar. The pride they feel when they exceed is a high nothing else can match.”

  “Nothing?” I asked.

  Jace shook his head. “Nothing. I know it sounds crazy, but a lot of kids in these schools are striving for this kind of thing. For discipline. For someone to hold them to what they promise and demand more of them. They don’t get that at home, you see. If you can fill that role for them and create mutual respect, they’ll bust their asses to get there. It works like a charm every time.”

  “No wonder you’re the most popular teacher in school.”

  “Am I?” he asked, a lopsided grin playing on his lips.

  “Definitely. The students think so and the teachers, too. I can’t say I disagree with them. You’re kind of inspiring.”

  “Kind of?”

  “Stop fishing for more compliments.”

  He laughed. “You see right through me, Ms. West.”

  Could he see right through me, too? Apparently not, seeing as how he still had no inclination that Linden was actually his son. Guilt crawled around my gut like a ravenous little creature as I considered how messed up this situation really was.

  I was out on a date with the father of my child. He had no knowledge that he had a second son. And here I was, enjoying his company, letting him spoil me, and inviting in a romantic relationship while there was still a secret burning deep inside me that threatened to doom this whole thing from the start.

  Did this make me a bad person?

  Yes.

  Did it make me want to put this to bed now?

  No.

  There was no way I was throwing in the towel without seeing what this could really be. I felt too good in his company. And I was fairly certain I lit something up inside him, too. Our night at the wedding wasn’t just a one-night stand. Yes, that was how it had gone down, but Jace had stayed on my mind well after that night. Had we not both met other people, things might have gone entirely differently.

  Maybe we would have reconnected sooner. Maybe not.

  “One more glass of wine?” Jace offered at the end of our meal. The light from the sun had long since left the sky, and above our heads was a blanket of winking stars and a glorious crescent moon. A few clouds were creeping in, inching toward the light radiating off the moon. Soon, there would be a harvest moon. I imagined it would be beautiful here in the small town, as opposed to Atlanta.

  “I think I should head home,” I said. “I promised Linden I’d be home to put him to bed. And a promise is a promise.”

  “Maybe next time.”

  “Definitely next time.”

  Jace paid the bill. The guilt in my belly screamed that I didn’t deserve this. It was right.

  The ride home was slow. Jace appeared to be in no rush. Neither was I. I was content sitting in the passenger seat with his hand on my thigh, watching the way his pulse fluttered at his throat, how his Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat when he swallowed, how the muscles in his forearm flexed when he turned the wheel.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked as we drew closer to my house.

  “How much I wish I had more time tonight.”

  A smile touched his eyes. “Me too.” We pulled over to the curb in front of my house. I took off my seatbelt, and Jace leaned toward me. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

  I nodded. He was so close I could smell his citrus and sandalwood cologne. I breathed in the smell of him, getting high on his scent. Then I reached up to take the collar of his shirt and pull him toward me for a sweet kiss. And then another. And another. And another, until he was half on my side of the truck and I was pressed up against the door panel and fighting to catch my breath as his tongue passed between my teeth.

  I pushed at his chest. “I should go before I can’t.”

  His smoldering gaze lit me on fire. “What if I don’t let you go?”

  Heat blazed through my core and chased the lingering guilt away. I gave him one last kiss, pushed open the door, and stepped out onto the curb. “Goodnight, Jace.”

  “Goodnight, Ms. West.”

  Chapter 21

  Jace

  The first of October was nearly upon us.

  The teachers at Youngster Academy had put in some sweat over the last few days to get the school all decked out for Halloween. The two front windows were plastered with child friendly spook-tacular images, like black cats, carved pumpkins, and green-skinned witches in tall black hats.

  One of the teachers had even gone through the effort to make bats out of black construction paper and popsicle sticks, and she’d spent the first half hour of the morning hanging them from the branches of the trees that lined the path to the front door. Along with that, there were fake tombstones in the grass, cobwebs in the corners of the doors, and caution tape haphazardly draped over windowsills and wrapped around the trunks of trees.

  I twisted around in the driver’s seat of my truck to peer back at Paxton, who still had his seatbelt on and was looking warily out the back window. He was so short he could barely see over the door panel, but his eyes flicked back and forth, soaking in the sight of all the spooky decor.

  “The school really did a good job, don’t you think, kiddo?” I asked.

  Paxton licked his lips and fidgeted with his hands in his lap.

  Stifling a sigh, I got out of the truck, walked around the hood, and opened the back door. Paxton looked up at me.

  “Come on, Pax,” I said, nodding over my shoulder at the school. “It’s time to go in.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “I know you don’t, buddy. But you always have fun once you go inside. Rig
ht?”

  He didn’t say anything. He merely blinked at me.

  I hated this part of our morning routine. I wanted more than anything for him to spring out of the back seat and rush through the front doors without looking back at his poor old man. I wanted him to enjoy himself. I just had no idea how to help him get to that place.

  “Can we go home?” Paxton’s bottom lip trembled.

  His shoulder was small under my hand, and I gave him a comforting squeeze. “What do we say about school?”

  “School is where we make connections.”

  “And what else?”

  Paxton sighed heavily and stared up at me. “School is a luxury.”

  “Right. We’re very lucky to get to go to school, Pax. A lot of kids can’t. One day soon, I’m going to bring you to school, and you’re going to be excited to go inside and see your friends. I promise.”

  “Like the other kids?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Like the other kids. We all work on our own timeline. Some other kids might get comfortable in school faster than you, and that’s okay. There’s no rush. But remember what we talked about? Trying something new each day. Say hello. Smile. You’ll make friends and that will make everything easier.”

  Paxton rubbed at his eyes. “I just want to go home.”

  Back at the beginning of the year, I’d caved at times like this and got back in my truck and gone home. I’d called into work, taken a sick day, and spent the entire afternoon with Paxton, who was a bundle of joy after being told he didn’t have to go to class.

  But that wasn’t doing him any favors. In fact, I was doing the opposite. I was enabling him. I was letting him stay in his comfort zone where no growth could happen, and I’d helped foster this apprehension over going to school.

  We’d talked since then, and I’d made it clear that wasn’t an option for either of us anymore. School was mandatory. Just like work was mandatory. And the more he went, the easier it would become.

  I took Paxton’s seatbelt off. He sniffled and shook his head. “Please, Dad. Don’t make me.”