One Broke Girl

by Rhonda Helms

I looked up then and my heart gave a painful thud in response to his serious hotness. Vivid green eyes that looked…strangely familiar, with one brow raised. Dark brown hair, shaggy and utterly touchable. Sensuous lips curved in a polite smile.

  “You shouldn’t cuss here,” the man said to me, and his voice had a gravelly edge that did wicked things to my stomach. He nodded toward the classroom to our right, which had its door wide open.

  Oh, shit. He was right. Dumbass—you’re in a school. Watch the language. I bit my lip. “I…uh, fudged up. Sorry. I forgot where I was for a moment. And I was distracted.”

  “I can tell.” Those sexy lips quirked. “Probably shouldn’t text and walk either.”

  “Wait. I think I know you.” I crammed my phone in my pocket and tilted my head. He looked so familiar.

  “Do you have a kid in my kindergarten class? You’re a bit young to have a child that age.” He gave me a genuine smile this time.

  This guy was a kindergarten teacher? Somehow, that made him even hotter. My chest tightened with guilt over how hard I was checking him out, and I brought Steven’s handsome face to the forefront of my mind. Which actually made me feel guiltier; I hadn’t talked to him much since moving here.

  A vivid memory flew into my mind so fast I almost gasped. I waved my hands in the air between us. “Oh, I know who you are. Gavin…Metcalf!”

  Holy crap. I couldn’t believe it. He was all lean muscle, evident even with his dress shirt and dark grey pants. No wonder I hadn’t recognized him at first. When I was in fourth grade, he’d been my boyfriend for a month or so. Back then, he was all limbs and gawkiness. Nothing like the sleek, composed man in front of me. What a difference puberty had made.

  He frowned. “Do I know you?”

  “Anna? Parker? We dated when we both went here. You gave me your sister’s jewelry for Valentine’s Day.” And then had come to me the next day telling me he’d stolen it from her and needed it back. I was so crushed I broke up with him. Natalie teased me about his romantic thievery for weeks.

  His jaw dropped, and he laughed as recognition flared in his eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “Now I remember. Wow. Didn’t you move away a long time ago?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, but I’m back. For a little while, at least.”

  “Mr. Metcalf!” a little girl said as she ran to his side then crossed her legs. Her golden pigtails bounced with her movements. “I have to go to the bathroom real, real bad.”

  Gavin gave me a nod and took the girl’s hand in his, which made my heart melt just a touch. “Take care, Anna.” With that, he walked down the hall, the two of them whispering back and forth.

  Huh. So Gavin had stayed in town and become a teacher. Well, good for him. At least he hadn’t turned to a life of crime—not that he’d been good at it or anything. When we’d broken up, he’d avoided me the rest of the year. My last year in elementary school had been his first year in middle school, so I hadn’t seen him again.

  I left the school and stepped into the sunshine, breathing in a huge lungful of fresh, crisp Ohio air. One thing to say about small-town living—it was beautiful here. The trees were laden with turning leaves, flashing red, gold and purple. Since it wasn’t overly cold yet, I only had on a thin sweater.

  I walked to my bright purple bike chained at a bike rack near the entrance and sighed. Yeah, I’d gotten it for a song. But it was old and crappy and squeaky as hell. I missed my Chevy SS so badly.

  The money I’d gotten from the car’s sale was paying our rent though.

  My phone buzzed. You’d be a great sous chef. Lol. Free to hang soon? Coffee is on me!

  God yes, I typed. I wasn’t going to make Natalie buy my drink though. I might be stupidly broke, but I still had pride. My purple bike drew my attention. Okay, I kinda had pride. I’ll call later so we can set up a plan, I added then sent the message.

  I went to put my phone away but it buzzed again. How’s the country? Your dad feeling any better about the divorce?

  My stomach twisted as I read the message from Steven. I tucked my phone in my pocket, hopped on my bike and pedaled as I thought about what to say. The air felt good running through my hair. Main Street’s buildings swept by me in a brick-lined haze. I turned right and headed home.

  I’d only told Steven partial truths—that we’d moved here because my parents were divorcing and my dad wanted to return to his small-town roots. One, because my mom was still MIA and my fruitless searches online hadn’t produced anything. And two, because I didn’t want him to know how dire our situation was.

  I laughed at myself as I pedaled harder. Back in the city, before we’d moved here, I’d been convinced that I’d somehow find a wonderful-paying job in the area and start making big bucks immediately. Yeah, not so much.

  I’m super lucky to have this job, I reminded myself again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was steady. The girl I was replacing had quit on them at the last minute with no notice, and their desperation meant my security. I’d simply find more work to fill in the income gap.

  When I pulled the bike up to the stretch of duplexes and got to ours on the end of the row, I hopped off and walked it into the garage behind our building. The peeling screen door squealed as I opened it.

  I wiped my feet on a shaggy rug then went inside. “Dad, I’m home!” I called out as I headed down the narrow, dark hallway. I flicked the light switch, but the bare bulb over my head didn’t turn on.

  Fabulous. Did we have bulbs? Yeah, in the closet somewhere.

  My phone buzzed again. You busy? What do you do all day? Catch up on soap operas and eat chocolate? ;-)

  Oh, Steven. He had no idea. I grimaced as I flopped down on the green paisley couch. It was the most hideous thing I’d ever seen, but hey, the place had come furnished, and we couldn’t afford to blow our money on crap like that.

  I nudged off my shoes and kicked my feet on the battered brown coffee table. Bit my lip and studied his text message.

  Just helping Dad get settled as a single man, I finally decided to write. U can guess how that’s going. :-/

  The divorce proceedings wouldn’t start until Mom sent the paperwork to Dad. And she didn’t even know we’d moved here. Most likely it would be forwarded to us from the family attorney.

  For the first couple of weeks after she left, I called her office daily to see if she’d returned. Then her boss told me he’d gotten a voicemail message from her with her apologies and a resignation. Despite my attempts to reach her via her cell phone, the voicemail box was always full.

  Another dead end.

  That familiar feeling of anger mingled with hurt surged to the front of my mind. I tried to push it back, but it remained, hot and strong and persistent. It had been a month now. How could she go this long without even wondering what the hell was going on with her daughter?

  She hadn’t just left Dad. She’d left me too.

  I got another text from Steven, accompanied by a picture of him with several of our friends on campus. They were grouped around a table in the commons, waving and smiling.

  Miss you. We can’t wait until you return, he’d written.

  Another wave of bittersweet sorrow came fast, and I swallowed it back, trying not to cry. I should have been there with them right now, having coffee, discussing classes, planning for my graduation at the end of next semester.

  Just a few more months, I promised myself. I didn’t care what I had to do—I was going to go back to the city, reclaim my life. I might not be graduating when I’d planned to, but I’d make up for the lost time, take summer classes and double up on the workload. I could possibly graduate next winter if I put my mind to it.

  Miss you too, I wrote. I took a pic of me smiling and sent it, and the text, to him. At least my cell phone service plan wasn’t too expensive; I’d go crazy without the ability to talk to people. Then I got up and moved to my dad’s room, where he was probably still sleeping.

  I cracked the door open. It was dark inside, and I
saw his figure stretched out across the narrow twin-sized bed. “Hey, I’m home,” I told him in a whisper.

  He sniffed and sat up, and I saw him scrub a hand across his face. “Oh. Hey, Anna. How was work?”

  “It was fine. How was your day?”

  I saw his figure shrug. “Mostly slept.”

  “Dad…” I started.

  “I know, I know.” He stood and moved toward me, flicking on the light. His eyes were baggy. He’d aged ten years in the last month, and he looked scary thin. “I’m going to get a job. I just…needed to sleep a bit today.”

  I reached over and rubbed his arm. My heart ached for him. “It’s going to get better,” I assured him. It had to—and it would if we both believed in it.

  He gave me a wan smile and stroked my hair. “You’re right. You hungry? I’ll make us something to eat.”

  “Maybe a small snack.” I followed him as he shuffled out of the bedroom and into our tiny kitchen. It had taken a good day of scrubbing for me to get it in the shape where I wouldn’t be creeped out about having food touching any of the surfaces.

  Dad took out a hunk of cheddar and grabbed a box of crackers from on top of the fridge. “It’s not three-year-aged gouda, but it’ll do the trick,” he said with a low laugh.

  I forced a chuckle. “I’m sure it’s fine.” I wasn’t going to sit here and fantasize about all the delicious gourmet cheese I was missing. To help focus my thoughts, I got a new light bulb from the closet—our last one, crud—and changed out the hallway bulb.

  Dad turned on the kitchen sink faucet, and I heard the water give a massive gurgle, bigger than it had so far. I darted back in there in time to see him shut it off and shake his head.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” I said lightly. That stupid thing was going to break any time now, and God help us when it did. Our landlord was a mouth-breather who could barely remember to wear pants, much less fix anything. I knew nothing about plumbing except that plumbers could be expensive. But maybe luck would be on our side and it would turn out to be an easy fix.

  We sat down at our rickety round kitchen table and enjoyed our cheese and crackers in silence, both lost in our own thoughts.

  Chapter Three

  I was pretty sure mashed potatoes had been invented by the devil.

  Only twenty minutes into our lunch shift and I’d scooped more potatoes than I’d ever seen in my life. Scoop, plop. Scoop, plop. Right onto the plates of sour-faced elementary school kids who didn’t seem to get why the skins had been left in.

  Without fail, every single one of them had stopped to ask me about it. It could have been a drinking game.

  If anyone working here had bothered asking me beforehand, I’d have told them that wasn’t going to fly with this picky crowd. Granted, I’d only just been allowed to start serving food this week, but it was super apparent which lunches got the most excitement—pizza, burritos and French fries. You know, nothing crazy.

  However, Mrs. Portwell didn’t seem to want my opinion on anything other than how fast I could scoop food and scrub countertops. Apparently she fancied herself a gourmet chef and was gonna make these kids appreciate her culinary arts whether they liked it or not. Since she authorized my paychecks, I didn’t bother to argue.

  A freckle-faced redheaded girl shot me a skeptical look as she held her tray toward me. “Those don’t look right. They’re lumpy with dark brown spots.”

  I shrugged and thunked the potatoes on her plate. “It’s homestyle.” Exact same thing I’d told the boy in front of her.

  She gave a world-weary sigh and moved down the line, and I almost chuckled at how bitter and cynical she seemed, even at such a young age. Had I ever been that much of a jerk to my elders? Hell, it would have killed these kids to mutter a thank-you for the service.

  Funny how just a couple of weeks into this job I already sounded like a crabby old woman.

  I shook off those frightening thoughts and focused on my task at hand. Once lunch was over, I would scour the kitchen clean and get the hell out of Dodge. I was meeting Natalie for coffee, plus one of her friends, Bianca, so that was something to look forward to.

  This week of serving lunch had made me realize how desperate I was to be around people my own age. I couldn’t wait to talk about adult things and not see little kids pulling each other’s hair, crying over the size of their food servings or wearing string cheese like a mustache.

  Had I mentioned it had been a long week?

  And it was only Wednesday?

  The line of kids kept coming. My feet started to cramp. Perhaps I should have worn sensible shoes with arch support, but these were my favorite flats. I scooped potatoes and carrots and salad like a woman on fire. The faster I got them through, the faster my job was done.

  A particularly tiny kid peered up at me from behind thick glasses, and I gave him a smile. Holy crap, he was adorable. I’d seen him yesterday. He was the only one who’d bothered to stop and thank me for lunch.

  With a friendly grin, the kid held up his tray. “My mom makes her mashed potatoes like this,” he told me in a matter-of-fact tone.

  I nodded and dropped a scoop on his plate. “Do you like it?”

  “I pretend I do, but when she doesn’t look, I feed it to Baxter.”

  “Michael,” a warm, rumbling voice said, popping up from out of nowhere. It was Gavin. He leaned over a bit toward the kid and said, “We have to keep the line moving. The nice lunch lady needs to feed others.” When he straightened and saw me, he blinked, and a heated flush crawled up my throat and cheeks.

  The look of utter shock on his face wasn’t flattering at all.

  I lifted my chin. “Hello.”

  “You work here? I thought…” Gavin cleared his throat, and his Adam’s apple bobbed right above the knot of his blue tie. “I figured there was some kind of certification or testing to be in food service at a school.”

  Righteous anger flared in my belly, and I scooped carrots onto Michael’s plate. “I passed my background check and the exam, thank you very much. I’m perfectly qualified.”

  That one damn brow quirked—apparently this was his signature look for me. It seemed he didn’t think I should be allowed anywhere near food. Or kids. “I see.”

  My cheeks burned more. Like I wasn’t already feeling awkward enough about my life. I didn’t need this guy judging me. “I notice you don’t have a tray,” I noted in a haughty tone, “and my line is starting to back up. So if you don’t mind…”

  “By all means,” he said as he backed away, hands in the air. “Please, continue.” But he didn’t leave the area. He just watched me in silence while I served the next kid.

  “These potatoes are lumpy and look funny,” the girl said in a high-pitched whine.

  It was so hard to keep the fake smile plastered on my face. “It’s homestyle. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

  Gavin huffed a small laugh, but I refused to look at him.

  I thrust my chin higher in the air and urged the kid along.

  “I’ll see you later,” Gavin said to me softly. The almost verbal caress of his voice drew my attention to those potent green eyes.

  The air caught in my throat, and I could feel my pulse flutter madly.

  “Oh, and Anna?”

  “Yeah?” I was a bit embarrassed by how breathy I sounded.

  “You have mashed potatoes in your hairnet.” With that, he walked off.

  It was too bad the earth couldn’t just swallow a person whole. I was forced to stay in line and serve the rest of the kids, though I was desperate to run off and fix my hair. When the last kid got his food, I ran to the back, grabbed a mirror out of a purse and found a lump of potatoes right behind my ear.

  Wonderful. I couldn’t even imagine how that had happened.

  I funneled all my frustration into cleaning the countertops and washing dishes as my coworkers took care of garbage disposal and other tasks before they exited the kitchen one by one, leaving me alone. For once, I didn’t
internally complain about the grunt work. It was mindless enough to help me work out my irritation.

  Stupid Gavin and his stupid smug grin. Not all of us could be as fortunate as he was to finish our stupid degrees and get stupid secure jobs. Scrub scrub. By the time I finished, the stainless steel was spotless and gleaming. I had to admit there was something to be said for actually seeing the fruits of your labor. Mom would be proud.

  The offhand thought just flew into my head, and my mood soured again. It was all her fault everything had gone so badly. And yet…a tiny part in the back of my head nagged me. If Dad and I hadn’t been so reliant upon her and her money, it wouldn’t be this bad for us. We could have had our own nest egg to fall back on.

  I tossed the sponge into the sink and sighed as I gripped the edge of the bowl. This whole situation was so messed up. And the worst part was…I missed her. Despite how much she’d hurt me and Dad, despite the deep anger and pain wrestling in my heart, I missed my mom.

  And that made me feel dumber than ever, because who would miss a person who’d broken her heart and cheated on her father?

  I put away the supplies, flicked off the lights and practically ran out of the school. A quick glance at my phone confirmed I was right on time.

  I hopped on my bike and pedaled down Main Street. I pulled my bike into a rack, locked it and walked the rest of the way to a quaint coffee shop, where I was supposed to meet the girls in a few minutes. It was hard to shake off that lingering sadness, but I made myself.

  Right now I wanted to be happy. I needed one afternoon of feeling like a regular human being.

  Before I entered, I grabbed my phone and shot Fiona a quick text. Hope you’re doing well. How are classes? I hit send and sighed as I tucked it back into my pants. She’d stopped being so livid with me when I’d found her a replacement roommate, but our relationship had changed. I rarely heard from her now. It was like once I’d left the city, I’d ceased existing.

  Well, maybe she was swamped with school work. I remembered all too well how many nights we’d spent in the campus library, freaking out over papers due the next morning.