by Katie Meyer
Thankfully, Megan seemed oblivious to the direction his thoughts had taken, at least until his blunder. He didn’t need her reporting him to the board for sexual harassment, which meant he needed to hold it together and act like a professional adult, not a hormonal teenager.
Determined to do just that, he sat back under the guise of checking the time on the big clock on the First Coast Bank across the street. “So, what’s next on the agenda?”
She glanced down at her watch and winced. “I probably should go to the grocery store and get something to make for dinner, but we’ve been out and about for so long already, that might be pushing it.” Checking to be sure Owen was still more interested in his new library book than adult conversation, she continued. “His sensory issues make grocery shopping hard and, after all the activity today, he’s going to need some quiet time. Honestly, we probably should just call it a day.”
Luke could understand that, but he also wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Thinking quickly, he made a counter offer. “All right, so no grocery store. Would he be okay going somewhere else, somewhere quiet?”
“Maybe. Why?”
“Well, you don’t seem to have anything planned for dinner, and my surprise visit threw off your weekend. So how about I feed you dinner to make up for the inconvenience? My place isn’t far from here, and Owen can watch TV or hang out in the yard with Lily while I cook. He gets his quiet time, and I get to avoid working on that budget project. It’s a win-win.”
He saw the hesitation in her eyes and couldn’t blame her. Running errands together was one thing; eating dinner at a man’s house was another. It was more...intimate. Part of him knew that was why he’d asked her. Still, it wasn’t as if they’d be alone. Owen and Lily would be there to chaperone.
Megan chewed her lip. “You a good cook?”
Sensing victory, he smiled in relief. “I know my way around a kitchen.”
“Okay. But whatever you’re making, I hope you have ketchup.”
* * *
Megan didn’t often regret a decision once she’d made it. But twenty minutes later, sitting on a stool in Luke’s kitchen, she was definitely second-guessing letting him talk her into coming to dinner. Not that he’d done anything wrong. Exactly the opposite. He was being too perfect, and it was freaking her the heck out.
Resisting her feelings, or urges, or whatever it was that made her feel as if her entire body was electrified, was hard enough when they were in public. Here in his small but immaculate kitchen, sipping an amazing wine that he’d poured for her, it was nearly impossible.
She’d chosen a spot where she could watch Owen and Lily through the patio door to avoid staring at Luke, but that only occupied one of her senses. The rest of her was all too aware of the man. How could she not be? He was only steps away, so close she could smell the citrusy cologne he wore. His presence could fill a much larger room and, here in his small kitchen, there was no way to escape it. No way to escape him, or the dormant feelings he’d awakened in her. Longings she’d thought she’d buried with her husband.
It was just the domesticity that got to her, reminding her of what life had been like when she’d been part of a couple. Simple things like preparing a meal together were what she’d missed most, and it was no wonder that seeing Luke chopping vegetables had her on edge. It was just a reminder of past feelings, that’s all.
And yet, when he brushed her arm as he reached for a pot holder, it wasn’t Tim she thought of. It wasn’t Tim she wanted. The ribbon of need curling inside her wasn’t responding to a ghost from the past but to the flesh-and-blood man standing beside her.
“Are you okay?”
Luke’s question pulled her from her mental gymnastics, her brain whirring to catch up. “Um, what?”
“I asked if you were okay.” He shrugged and gestured vaguely with the half-peeled cucumber still in his hand. “You seem flushed. Need me to turn the AC down?”
More like a cold shower. But she couldn’t say that, and she couldn’t admit that it had been so long since she’d been in a man’s company that something as mundane as watching him chop vegetables was enough to get her hot and bothered. So she shrugged and turned back to the window. “I probably just got a bit too much sun at the splash park today, is all.”
He nodded, but she could feel his gaze lingering on her, as if he wasn’t quite sure of her answer. No doubt he’d had plenty of chances to hone his personal lie detection abilities in his dealings with hordes of schoolchildren. She hoped she was more adept at covering her feelings than they were.
Not that she had any feelings for him other than friendship. Everything else was just hormones, an unwanted but temporary annoyance. Nothing to get worked up about, even if the warmth flooding her veins said otherwise. She didn’t need or want a lover, but she did need a friend. And she was going to ruin any chance of that if she didn’t stop acting like some starstruck teen, all tongue-tied and awkward. She could start by keeping up her end of the conversation.
With that in mind, she decided to appease her curiosity. “So, are you from around here? Paradise, I mean?”
He shook his head, looking up only briefly from the pan where he sautéed onions, mushrooms and garlic in sizzling oil. “Not Paradise, no. But not far. I grew up near Gainesville.”
“So I assume you’re a Gator fan then?”
“Of course. Went to FSU for undergrad and graduate school. Wait, don’t tell me you’re a Seminole?” He laid a hand on his heart as if being a fan of the rival Florida State University would be an unforgivable crime.
“And if I was?” She grinned, enjoying the banter.
“I may need to ask you to leave.” A quick wink assured her his dramatics were all in fun. She found herself smiling despite her earlier discomfort.
“Then I guess it is lucky I’m a Gator grad, too. Technically speaking anyway. I just finished my computer science degree through their online program. So, although I haven’t been to any football games, I do have a diploma to prove my allegiance.”
“Well then, I guess you can stay.”
“Good, because I’m starving and that smells amazing, whatever it is. What are you making anyway?”
“Pasta with a chunky tomato sauce.” He added a can of diced tomatoes to the pan and stirred before lowering the heat and turning back to her. “I thought we could have that and a salad?”
The simmering sauce already had her mouth watering. No doubt it would taste nothing like the premade stuff she normally made. That, in itself, was a problem. The likelihood of Owen consuming a new food without an embarrassing scene was pretty much nil. Her stomach dropped. She should have anticipated this and insisted on going home for dinner. She still could...maybe fake a forgotten work phone call, or an upset stomach, and leave now. She was midway down that mental path when Luke intersected her thoughts.
“I figured Owen would want his pasta plain, right, with just some butter? I’ve seen him eat it that way in the cafeteria.”
Dumbstruck, it took Megan a minute to do anything more than blink in shock. Here she was, drowning in self-doubt, and he was offering her a life preserver. “You don’t mind?”
“Mind? Of course not. I’ll just set his aside, it’s no big deal.”
Not to him, maybe. But at some point, Megan had found herself living a life where things like pasta, or her child’s refusal to eat it, did seem like a big deal. Was that because she knew her son so well, or was it that she was so caught up in the small things that she’d lost perspective?
She’d thought he was throwing her a life preserver, but maybe she didn’t need one. Maybe what she needed more than anything was someone to remind her to enjoy the swim.
Chapter Six
Sunday mornings should never start with an alarm clock. And yet, not only had Luke set it before settling into a restless sleep Saturday night, he wasn’t even angry when it went off. In fact, h
e was in a suspiciously good mood for a man who had stayed up working until the wee hours and was facing another night of the same. A sane person would be downright annoyed at how much time he’d lost to this ridiculous challenge. Yes, he prided himself on doing his best for the students, but that didn’t mean he had to dedicate an entire weekend to just one student, even one with special needs.
But he was up, early, and there was a damn smile on his face!
Of course, it wasn’t his work that had him rushing through a quick shower, or fighting the lineup at the Sandcastle Bakery to buy doughnuts and coffee. It was the idea of spending more time with Megan Palmer. And that was the craziest thing of all.
Wasn’t it?
He glanced around, noting how many of the small tables in the crowded bakery were taken by couples. Was it so unusual that he’d want that, too? Surely, it was natural to enjoy spending time with a pretty woman, even if she was the parent of one of his students. No, the problem wasn’t that he was attracted to her; the problem was stopping himself from acting on it. The school board would likely frown on him dating a student’s parent, no matter how pretty she was, or how much fun he had with her. And he wasn’t the kind of guy to flaunt rules—even unwritten ones. Of course, if things didn’t work out with Lily today and Owen transferred to a different school, that wouldn’t be a problem anymore.
He shook his head, disgusted with himself for even thinking such a thing. More than anything, he wanted Owen to do well, to thrive. His growing appreciation for the boy’s mother only strengthened his resolve to help the kid as best he could. If any family deserved a break, they did. And if Lily could prove herself, and he could give them the chance, he was going to do it. He just needed to remember that, and not the way her smile traveled all the way to her eyes when she laughed, or how she smelled like coconuts and sugar.
Thankfully, there was nothing in the employee handbook about being friends with a student’s parent, which meant he didn’t have to feel guilty about having had dinner with her last night, or for ordering an extra-large box of doughnuts to take to her house this morning. Friends shared food. Right?
“Anything else?”
Grace Keville, the bakery owner and Paradise native, patted the brightly colored box of pastries on the clean counter and patiently waited for an answer as if there weren’t a dozen more people in line behind him.
“Just two coffees, one black and one...uh...” His brain churned to a stop. He had no idea how Megan took her coffee, although he knew she drank it. More than once, she’d come to one of their meetings carrying a to-go cup with the Sandcastle logo, which is why he’d had the idea of stopping. “I guess just make both of them black, and maybe throw some sugar packets and stuff in a bag? I’m not quite sure what she wants in it.”
“Sure. Or you can tell me who it’s for. If ‘she’ is a regular, I may know how she takes it.”
“Seriously?”
Grace nodded vigorously, a single strand of her gray hair working loose from the chignon she always kept it in. “Paradise is a small town, and I’ve got a mind like a steel trap. In fact, I’ll bet you a free bear claw that I get it right. That is what you normally order, right?”
He shook his head in amazement. “Wow, yeah, I do.” He’d taken to stopping in on Friday afternoons, when it wasn’t so busy, to get a snack before heading back to work until well past the dinner hour. “Okay then, it’s for Megan Palmer.”
Grace raised an eyebrow at the name, but if she wondered why he was taking Megan coffee on a Sunday morning, she had the good manners not to ask. Instead, she simply added a hefty dose of cream and a squirt of vanilla syrup to one of the paper to-go cups before pouring in the rich, fragrant brew that was as much of her bakery’s success as the sugared creations filling the display counters. “There you go. Tell her I said hi. Oh, and you’ll need these.” She put a bundle of napkins imprinted with the bakery’s logo in the bag, along with a set of plastic utensils.
“I will?”
“Mmm-hmm. Owen likes his doughnut cut up, so he can eat it with a fork. He doesn’t like the feeling of the glaze on his fingers. Too sticky.” She made the comment without censure, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary about a six-year-old boy unable or unwilling to touch a doughnut with his fingers. “And you’d better watch him, or he’ll feed half of it to Lily.” Grace said the last with a smile, her fondness for the boy and his dog overriding her typically prim demeanor.
Once again, Luke found himself amazed at the genuine feeling of community that pervaded Paradise. As an educator, he’d seen the general impact such a supportive community had on the youngest of its citizens. Until today, though, he hadn’t really witnessed what that support looked like close up, on an individual level. But there it was, in something as simple as a set of plastic tableware. Some people might have rolled their eyes or mocked a child with the kinds of preferences Owen had. But to Grace Keville, he was a customer, and a neighbor, and therefore deserving of respect. Her open-mindedness was a refreshing reminder of how things could be—of how he could be.
Accepting the advice and the food, Luke made sure to leave a generous tip before threading his way through the growing crowd and exiting the shop.
Outside, the humid, salt-tanged air was a sharp contrast to the cool sweetness of the bakery. By the time he’d crossed the parking lot, he was wishing he’d worn shorts instead of khaki pants and a polo shirt. But it was Sunday, and Megan had mentioned last night that she and Owen were regulars at the church affiliated with the school. Paradise was casual enough that Bermuda shorts and golf shirts were considered acceptable attire almost anywhere. But as someone employed by All Saints, he felt a need to present a professional appearance. Also, the more business-like clothing would be a reminder to himself that this was all work-related. A reminder he sorely needed.
Driving the few blocks to Megan’s house, he forced himself to focus on Owen and Lily, not on Megan. His research had showed that some other religious schools had made allowances for service dogs, but they were few and far between. Most had refused for fear of liability—that a special needs student would not be able to control their service animal—although he’d yet to turn up any actual lawsuits or injuries associated with service dogs on school grounds.
Truth be told, there just wasn’t enough precedent to base a decision on. That left him relying on his own judgment. Normally that would be fine, he was good at his job and had confidence in his decision-making. But in this case, could he really trust himself to remain unbiased? The more time he spent with Owen, the more he wanted to help him, but he couldn’t allow his feelings for one student to outweigh the safety of all the rest.
Beyond his concern for his students, there was another complication shadowing his judgment. Megan. Their budding friendship shouldn’t—couldn’t—be allowed to influence his decision. If he considered the flying sparks of attraction between them, he was also going to have to be very careful to separate the facts from his feelings.
Yet it wasn’t concern over his professional ethics that had his pulse accelerating as he pulled into Megan’s narrow driveway. That primal reaction could be chalked up to something much more basic. The simple human desire of a man for a woman. A desire he hoped he was strong enough to fight, and one that he wished like hell he didn’t need to.
* * *
Megan heard the car in the driveway a fraction of a second before Lily let out a single welcoming woof. Luke was here. Again. Well, at least this time she was ready for him, as ready as she could be anyway.
When she’d come home from dinner last night, she’d been wired thanks to the sudden resurgence of her lifeless libido. Knowing sleep would be futile, she had poured all her nervous energy into cleaning the house.
She’d stayed up way too late but the house looked presentable if not perfect. Boys and dogs didn’t allow for perfect. Still, she felt a sense of pride as she surveyed the freshly scrubb
ed floors and fingerprint-free surfaces. Pride tempered by exhaustion—the latter being a normal state for her. Glancing around one last time, she spotted her morning cup of coffee, still mostly full, on the counter. No wonder she was dragging.
The doorbell rang as she dumped the now cold liquid down the sink. Rinsing the mug quickly, she set it in the dishwasher and dried her hands on the seat of her jeans as she made her way to the door. Lily beat her there, her long tail wagging in anticipation. Nudging the dog and her own nerves aside, Megan opened the door.
Last night, as she’d scrubbed and mopped, she’d convinced herself that any attraction she’d felt for Luke had been an anomaly. A one-off thing due to the surprise of the moment or change in routine. A byproduct of too many Hallmark channel movies and romance novels. Nothing to worry about, now that she had a logical explanation.
But logic was no match for the wave of heat that washed over her the minute he walked in. And darned if she didn’t get a bit weak in the knees when she caught a whiff of his cologne. Obviously the lack of sleep was getting to her. She had better wake up fast if she was going to keep herself in check.
As if reading her mind, Luke offered her a tall takeout cup bearing the logo of her favorite bakery. “Coffee?”
“Oh my goodness, yes, please,” she answered, accepting the beverage with more gratitude than was probably normal for something as mundane as coffee. But caffeine had gotten her through late-night study sessions and endless days with a colicky baby. Surely, it could help her get through today, too. Then, once Owen had permission to take Lily to school, she could go back to her normal, boring life. At least, that had been the plan she’d come up with last night. Now, with Luke standing in front of her, it didn’t hold as much appeal.
At least the coffee was the same as always. Perfect. She closed her eyes and savored it for a moment, letting the bittersweet brew work its magic. “Mmm...thank you. You have no idea how much I needed this.” Taking one more sip, she reluctantly opened her eyes and found Luke watching her, his expression unreadable.