The answer seemed to appease Taylor, and he was pulled back into the tour before any of them could say anything else on the subject. As he introduced them to the rest of the team and fielded their questions, he considered a potential partnership. While he’d been making up an excuse, it was an interesting prospect. The girls were bright, and they did have a great product. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the possibility of a partnership between the Girls Who Code and Link Digital.
He just hoped Haleigh did, too. And as soon as they’d bid the girls and Taylor good-bye, he put the question to her as they walked toward the restaurant.
“You’d seriously want to help the girls launch their product?” she asked.
“Sure. We’d have to work out the details, figure out the intellectual property side of it with lawyers. But it could be beneficial for all of us.”
“What would you guys get out of it?”
“Good PR and community service.”
She nodded slowly. “Maybe it could work. We’d have to discuss the particulars.”
“We will, but first . . .” He tugged her into the alley next to the restaurant and brought her mouth to his. Her breath came out as a sigh, and she slipped her arms around him. Kissing her was as good as he’d remembered. Maybe even better. He could stay like this forever—or even a few minutes longer—if they weren’t standing in the middle of town. He forced himself to end it, leaving both of their chests rising up and own.
“Come on,” he said, once he’d drawn his breath. “Let’s have dinner.”
***
For what might have been the first time since she was a student, Haleigh found herself constantly checking the clock on Friday, willing the time to pass more quickly. She was looking forward to her weekend. Not because she had big plans. She didn’t actually know what she’d be doing, but she did know who would be with her while she did it.
Just thinking about Ian brought a goofy grin to her face. She’d been in the middle of explaining that a “locus” wasn’t an insect but a set of points, when that had reminded her about Ian’s insistence that he teach her more about coding. Then she’d remembered the field trip the day before and their playful banter at dinner. The smoldering kisses stolen. A student had actually had to call her attention back to the lesson.
It hadn’t been the only time her mind wandered.
By the time the final bell rang, she was ready to run out the door with her students. She wanted to start her weekend of nothing special with someone special. The classroom phone rang before she could make her escape. Eying it dubiously, she considered letting it go to voicemail. Whatever it was could wait till next week. Couldn’t it?
Then her gaze wandered to the plastic “Teacher of the Year” award sitting next to the phone. The gold, genderless figure atop wore a frown. Like it was judging her and silently asking, “Is this really teacher of the year behavior? You’ve changed.”
Sinking back into her seat, she picked up the receiver.
Five minutes later, she was both relieved and sorry she had taken the call.
Apparently, sometime between last night and this afternoon, the principal had received a phone call from an overzealous marketing representative at Link Digital. The woman had admitted she was jumping the gun, but she was excited about the possibility of LD partnering with the Girls Who Code, she just had get the ball rolling. Would it be okay if they met first thing Monday to get on the same page?
So. Many. Metaphors. All said with enough enthusiasm to fuel a Prius. It had to have been Taylor.
And thanks to the phone call, the principal now wanted a full report of the Girls’ interaction with LD during the past week as well as the proposed project. By Sunday at noon. While Haleigh was mentally reshuffling her non-plans, the principal had given another mandate.
“It needs to be easy to understand. No buzzwords or tech talk. Plain English. I want to make sure our girls get a fair deal.”
Now Haleigh not only had homework for the weekend, but she had to figure out how to translate everything the girls and Ian had discussed into something that might make sense to the average person.
She could always ask Ian for help. He’d been threatening to teach her how to speak HTML for weeks. He’d also already done so much to help the girls—including creating the possibility of a partnership. Asking him to help her with something this intensive reeked of boyfriend duties. They’d barely gone on their first date. Giving him chores already seemed premature.
She was still staring at her computer screen when a new email from Nina appeared on the screen. It was marked “urgent” and the subject heading read, “He won’t know what hit him.” Again, Haleigh considered the possibility of ignoring it, but curiosity won out.
Guess who arrived in town early and popped into hubby’s office? That’s right. Greg. And guess who’s having dinner with him and his wife tonight? Yep. Me. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he knows all about your adorable, successful boyfriend. I may or may not have a copy of the Top Thirty article saved on my phone for bragging purposes.
Seriously, the guy won’t know what hit him.
All you have to do is find something gorgeous to show off that cute booty of yours. Oh, I can mention the hot yoga class we took . . .
So, don’t worry, I’m on it. Greg is going to be totally jealous, and you’ll really get to prove who was the crazy one in your relationship.
Haleigh cringed at Nina’s words. Why couldn’t the woman once—just once—not feel compelled to get into everyone else’s business? Haleigh briefly considered begging her to leave Ian and the Top Thirty list out of the dinner conversation. It wouldn’t do any good, though. Once Nina had gossip and an audience, nothing could stop her.
At least Ian was going to be Haleigh’s date for the reunion. She wouldn’t have to make up some lame excuse about why someone named Nick or Patrick was her plus-one.
That wasn’t what had her heart pounding a little faster, though. Greg was in town. Of course, he’d shown up early. He came from a long line of people with the “on time is late” mentality. Lincoln was a big enough city, they should be able to steer clear of each other. Unless he requested a private tour of the school under the guise of wanting to make a gift. Or maybe he’d decide to “slum it” for a night and magically appear at Amarillo Sour. Or maybe he’d go for a run in her neighborhood.
She shouldn’t worry. Haleigh had grown up a lot in ten years. She wasn’t the same woman. She could totally handle herself—and him. As long as she was prepared. A surprise attack could leave her . . . flustered. Incapable. Messy. Everything she didn’t want to be. Not around him.
A follow-up message appeared.
Another thing . . . Could you please print the name tags for the reunion? I’ve attached the final guest list and the paper is on my desk. While you’re at it, I’d really appreciate if you could add the activity stickers?
With less than a week to go, there’s a ton to do . . .
Thanks—you’re the best!
Haleigh could pretend she hadn’t seen the messages, but that would be rude. After all the hard work Nina had put into organizing the reunion, it wouldn’t kill her to help a little. She could work on the name tags while binge-watching something on TV. After she created the report. And graded homework. And went shopping for something to show off her “new cute booty.” Whatever that meant.
What was one more thing at this point?
She packed up her bags and made a quick stop by Nina’s classroom to grab the supplies she’d needed. She was nearly out the door when someone shouted, “Ms. Parde!” She turned as Jacob caught up with her.
She waited for him to catch his breath before asking what he needed.
“I have a note. From my mom.”
Something about the way he said it made her think it wasn’t a thank you. And knowing he’d slipped on his latest test grade only added to her suspicion. Still, she had to open it.
Clearly the weekly sessions aren’t working.
Can you handle it or do we need to bring in someone else?
Short. Not so sweet. Definitely to the point. Under usual circumstances, Haleigh could appreciate the directness. But just now, she felt like she’d just drank an entire pot of coffee—with a couple of extra shots of espresso. Digging into her purse for a pen, she scribbled a quick response, including her personal phone number, inviting his mother to get in touch.
Jacob tucked the note away with a promise to deliver it to his mother. That was something, she thought, as she watched him race down the hallway. Despite how much he fought learning math, at least he could be trusted to fulfill a promise. Even if it meant he’d lose TV or gaming privileges.
She’d found ways of getting through to him before. But the next time they met for tutoring, she’d figure out how to make the lessons stick. She had to—it was her job.
Haleigh drove the whole way home in silence. Music wouldn’t have mattered. Her ears were ringing, and she was focusing most of her attention on drawing slow, even breaths. When she pulled into her driveway and turned off the ignition, it occurred to her that she couldn’t even remember which route she’d taken home.
That wasn’t good.
Yet, piled on top of everything else, she couldn’t quite muster up the energy to worry.
Unlocking the front door, she tossed her keys on the entry table and gave Rudy an absent pat on his head. Glancing around the room, she wondered where to start. She could come up with a plan for helping Jacob. She had to be ready whenever his mother called. She also needed to do the report. It would probably take the most time. It would also have the most immediate ramifications.
She stared down at the bag of supplies she’d carried home. The name tags might be a nice, mindless activity. But in her current state, she’d probably find a way to mess it up and earn Nina’s ire for ruining the reunion.
The jitters had spread to her fingertips. A weight settled on her chest and didn’t show any signs of lifting. She knew the signs. They’d been part of her life for long enough, they were almost like old friends. Old, toxic friends who showed up whenever they wanted.
That, at least, she knew how to manage. She’d go for a run. Work off some of the energy. She’d hydrate. Water always helped.
Climbing up the steps to her bedroom, with Rudy following closely behind, she stepped into the walk-in closet. She reached for a fresh workout top but froze as she noticed her usual dress-up options hanging. Her hand shakily reached for her two dresses. They both looked nice on her, but they wouldn’t turn any heads at the reunion. Did she want to turn heads? Nina said she should. After dinner tonight, would Greg and his wife expect it too?
The dresses slipped from her fingers, falling as she sank to the floor, too.
Chapter Fifteen
The phone went to voicemail. Again.
After Haleigh hadn’t answered his past few texts, Ian wondered if something was wrong. There was probably nothing to it. Maybe she’d joined her co-workers for a FAC drink. She could have gone for a run, too. He was new enough to his own running routine that he didn’t entirely know the logistics of replying to texts mid-stride.
So, he’d finished out his work day. Then he’d run twenty minutes on the treadmill and grabbed a shower. By the time the desire to hurl passed, it was well past the time they’d planned to connect for dinner. There was still no reply. He’d switched to calling then. Twice. Both times, her friendly prerecorded message asked him to leave a brief message and she’d get back to him as soon as possible.
Had she lost her phone again?
No. That couldn’t be it. The other time had been a fluke. Haleigh was way too responsible to repeat that mistake. Besides, they were friends on Facebook now. She would’ve sent him a message. But again, there was nothing.
He was being overprotective. That could be the only explanation for how he found himself pulling up in front of her house. He just wanted to make sure she was okay, he rationalized. If she told him she wasn’t in the mood to hang out—or she was out with friends—he’d go grab a beer by himself at Amarillo Sour like he had most other Friday nights.
And he’d do his best not to pout, because he was a thirty-year-old man, not a toddler.
Before he could think the better of it and talk himself out of becoming a stage-five clinger, he drove to her house and jogged up the steps of her porch. Raising his hand to ring the bell, he froze. The front door was open. Not wide open like she expected guests and was extending an invitation to come right inside. It was . . . ajar. Like someone had been in a hurry or hadn’t wanted to make a loud sound. Neither seemed like something Haleigh would do.
Heart racing and with his thumb hovering over his phone, poised to call the police if it came to that, he opened the storm door. The lock on the heavy oak door didn’t appear to be broken. From what he could tell, there weren’t any shards of glass sprinkled around the foyer. Those were good signs. They also might not mean anything.
He pushed the door open farther and stepped inside. Glancing around, he didn’t see anything out of place, but he proceeded cautiously. With each step, he waited for Rudy to come thundering down the stairs to greet him. When he’d brought Haleigh home the previous weekend, he’d barely had time to brace himself before the Irish setter had jumped up to greet him.
There wasn’t even a hint of the dog today. The sinking in his stomach grew stronger, and he hesitated at the foot of the stairs.
“Hello,” he called out. Normally he would have cringed at the shakiness in his voice, but not today. “Anyone here?”
The silence prolonged another moment, then a bark rang out from one of the bedrooms upstairs. Without thinking, Ian raced up the stairs, following the sound until he stood in the doorway to what must be Haleigh’s bedroom. On any other day, he would have taken time to take stock of the feminine, but tidy room. Right now, he could only search for any sign of where Haleigh might be.
He could barely hear now over the pounding in his ears, but he called out again. He could barely make out the barking from the closet. Bracing himself for whatever might be on the other side, he opened the door.
There—with her back to the corner and arms wrapped around her legs—he found her. Rudy was pressed up against her side, his dark brown eyes peering up at Ian.
“Haleigh.” It came out in a breath, like a sigh of relief or a prayer. He dropped to his knees and covered her hand. “Are you okay, are you—”
“I’m okay.” Her voice was weak and muffled against her legs. “I need a minute.”
She obviously wasn’t okay. He’d never seen her like this—curled up and vulnerable, like she was waiting out a storm. The closest she’d come had been the night of her first round of dates. At the time, he’d written it off as first-date jitters on steroids. It made sense. Who wasn’t nervous on a first date, let alone a night with two? This was different, though. This was . . . he wasn’t entirely sure what exactly. He wasn’t going to press her on it either. Not yet.
For now, he’d be glad she was here and safe. Whatever was wrong, they’d work through it when she was ready.
Willing his heart to slow back down, he surveyed the tiny room. A black dress was balled up on the floor. Her tennis shoes were strewn carelessly on her other side. Every shirt hung neatly, organized by length of sleeve and color. The rest of the shoes were placed on ascending shelves, again by height of heel and shade. He’d never given much thought to how a closet might reflect a person, but in this case, it fit the woman to a T.
A woman who clearly needed something—or someone—to be there for her right now. If only he knew what he was supposed to do. Instead of inspecting her organizing methods, he wanted to help. But what if he did the wrong thing? What if he made it worse?
She let out a shudder. The pain in it gripped his heart and sank in deeper.
Pushing aside the tennis shoes, and his reservations, Ian squeezed in next to Haleigh. Moving a plastic tub that dug into his side, he slipped an arm around her shoulder. He kept the o
ther hand firmly over hers. Taking a shaky breath of his own, he rested his cheek against her head. The fast pounding of her own heart echoed through him. As the seconds passed into minutes, it slowed into a steady beat. Every few minutes she took a deep breath through her nose, held it, then let it out.
The storm, it seemed, was passing. Once it was gone, he’d be there to help with the recovery. Until then, he’d just be there.
***
Haleigh’s eyes flew open. Heart racing, she took a few deep breaths and adjusted to her surroundings. When she’d closed her eyes, she’d been curled up on the floor of her closet. Now, somehow, she was on her bed. It was pitch black outside.
And she wasn’t alone. She hadn’t been earlier, either. Ian had been there. Her now steady heart sank remembering the fear in his eyes when he’d found her. The way he hadn’t said anything. The way he’d sank to the floor and pulled her into his arms, rocking her gently, like a baby. Which wasn’t a far-off assessment of her behavior.
Even now, he held her against the wall of his chest. His slow, even breaths tickled the back of her neck. He must think . . . She shook her head. She didn’t want to know what he thought.
The movement must have registered with him. He tightened his hold, drawing her even closer. His chin moved back and forth against her hair a second before his warm lips pressed against the top of her head. The silent understanding from before paired with this sweetness was almost too much. She clamped her eyes shut. She couldn’t fall apart. Not again.
“Haleigh?”
The single word—half question, half caress—was her undoing. Her next breath came out as a sob. The heaviness from earlier returned, settling on her chest, making it almost impossible to draw another gulp of air.
Ian sat up then, gently pulling her upright along with him. “Do you need me to get you anything? Medicine?”
She shook her head, still struggling to catch a breath.
Counting on You (Amarillo Sour, #1) Page 15