by Sandy James
“I love it.”
He put the CRV into gear and drove it off the front lawn to park on the driveway. He strode over to the porch, wrapped his arms around Beth’s hips, and lifted her. A squeal spilled out as he spun her around in a circle. Then he let her slide down his body until she was in his arms. “You really like it?”
“I told you, I love it. You’re so good to me.”
“Anything for you, Mrs. Ashford.”
Mrs. Ashford. She still had a hard time thinking of herself as anything but Beth Rogers. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to hearing that name.”
Robert gave her a long, lazy kiss. “You’re going to have to, B. Good thing you’ve got a lifetime to learn.”
About the Author
Sandy lives in a quiet suburb of Indianapolis with her husband of thirty years and is a high school social studies teacher. She and her husband own a small stable of harness racehorses and enjoy spending time at the two Indiana racetracks. She has been an Amazon Best Seller and has won numerous writing awards, including two HOLT Medallions.
Please visit her website at sandy-james.com for more information or find her on Twitter or Facebook at sandyjamesbooks.
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Chapter One
One more day.
That was all Danielle Bradshaw had left. One more day before the school year started and her life would become a routine that made an air traffic controller’s schedule seem relaxed.
Up at five in the morning. A three-mile run. Shower and pour some coffee down her throat—maybe finding a moment for some oatmeal or granola—and then get herself dressed and haul her fanny to work. Teach six sophomore English classes, usually with at least thirty kids in each, and head home to do some laundry and try to make a dent in the eternal pile of student papers to grade.
And the next day?
Do it all over again.
“Danielle?” Her principal’s call kept her from leaving the main office.
She’d made a quick trip to the heavily guarded supply closet to grab a new gradebook and was going back to her room to get ready to face her new students. Her clean escape had just been thwarted. “Yes?”
“I need your help.” He turned to motion to someone in his office. “Nathaniel? Come on out here. I want you to work with Ms. Bradshaw.”
Oh no.
She had no doubt what Mr. Reinhardt wanted from her. The department was getting a new teacher. Finally. That would mean some relief for the onerous number of kids the teachers of Stephen Douglas High School faced on a daily basis.
But with that blessing came the need to break in a new teacher. Since she’d been promoted to department head this school year, a position that came with an embarrassingly small raise and a hell of a lot more responsibility, she’d have to be the one to show the newbie the ropes. There was no doubt this was a kid fresh from college, because there was no way the corporation would scare up enough pay for someone with experience. The administrators were too cheap.
Her day was now shot to hell.
Her biggest concern, aside from having to spend every minute of her work day spoon-feeding some barely-old-enough-to-shave guy, was that as department head she should’ve been included in the decision on which teacher to hire. Since her summer had gone by without a single word from her boss about interviews, she’d simply assumed that the school corporation hadn’t scraped together the funds to get a new English instructor.
With a sigh, she tried to paste a smile on her face and welcome the guy who now faced the most challenging nine months of his life. “Hi, I’m—”
The words froze in her throat as she took in the man standing in front of her, flashing her a smile that damn near stopped her heart before sending it slamming against her ribs.
He was blond, his hair cut in a neat, conservative style and slicked back with the right amount of gel. He wore a dark suit and red tie as though a born executive. His eyes were the most fascinating shade of blue, the color of the clearest of the Caribbean waters. And exactly like those waters, Dani could feel herself sinking into them.
“Nathaniel Ryan.” He held out his hand. “But I prefer Nate.”
Somehow she was able to force herself from her stupor to shake his hand. “Danielle, um, Dani Bradshaw.”
Jim Reinhardt cuffed Nate on the shoulder. “Dani will get you introduced and give you a tour of the place.” His gaze shifted to her. She knew that look well. It was the same guilty grimace he gave her whenever he’d just given her a nearly impossible task.
Breaking in a new teacher the day before school qualified as a “nearly impossible task.” The only thing that kept her from being furious with Jim was the fact that he was the best principal she’d ever worked for.
She found her voice. “What room will he be in?”
“Nate’s going to be in the empty room at the end of the English hall.”
“Um, okay.” The last time anyone had used the room was five years ago. Since then, it had been a place to store all the broken desks. The teachers in her department called it the Black Hole of Calcutta.
“Don’t worry, Dani,” Jim said. “I already had the custodians clear it out. Nate, Dani’s going to be your mentor this year. She teaches sophomore English—same thing you’ll have. She’ll help get you ready for tomorrow, and my office door is always open if you need me. We’ll both be observing you a couple of times this year—once the first week or two, so be ready.”
On that, he strode back to his office, leaving her with the new teacher.
God, her friends would be laughing at the way she gaped at Nate Ryan. The Ladies Who Lunch, her closest friends, loved to joke about how nonchalant Dani always acted around handsome men. Even though all three of her friends were happily married, they had an eye for good-looking men and ogled any hunk who passed them while Dani rolled her eyes at their brazenness.
If they could only see her now… She couldn’t even put together enough words to make a coherent sentence.
She should be talking a blue streak right now, telling this guy—this Nate Ryan—about the ins and outs of Stephen Douglas High School. She should be explaining how to set up his electronic gradebook and attendance file. She should be doing something productive rather than standing there staring at a man who had to be at least nine years younger than her own thirty-one. Thirty-two in a matter of weeks.
The man had a cliché baby face. She’d be amazed if he was more than twenty-one or twenty-two, fresh out of college and full of that naïve enthusiasm for teaching that she lost a little of with each new school year.
A decade ago, she’d been standing where Nate Ryan stood, ready to take on the world. Ready to teach kids and believing she had the power to change the world, to reach each and every student and help them learn to love reading and writing.
Ten years at Douglas High School had seasoned her. She wasn’t entirely soured on teaching. Not yet, but that time was on the horizon. One of the Ladies Who Lunch had left teaching only two years ago. Juliana Wilson had been a special education teacher who’d burned out and carved herself a profitable new career as a real estate agent.
Would the Ladies Who Lunch still be the Ladies Who Lunch once they all left the profession? They’d found each other years ago, bonding as they shared their lunch period each day. They’d weathered Juliana jumping ship, still finding time to get together a couple of times a week.
But if Dani left, too?
Who exactly was she fooling? There was no reason even worrying about leaving. As it was, she’d be lucky if she saved enough money to retire at sixty-five.
“So, Ms. Bradshaw…” Nate raked his fingers through his short hair.
Dani got a hold of herself. The poor kid was obviously nervous. “Call me Dani. Please. How about I show you your room? I have no idea what’s usable in there, but the department has several sets of classroom books you can use that I can help you carry over. We normal
ly use e-books for our kids because they all have electronic tablets instead of textbooks.”
His eyes widened. “Really? Wow. That had to be expensive. I thought schools were pinching pennies like crazy nowadays.”
“We are. E-books are cost-effective. They’re a helluva lot cheaper than hardcover textbooks. Plus the kids don’t get strained backs from carrying them around.” She led the way to the big double doors leading to the main office and was pleased when Nate reached past her to pull one open for her.
The man had manners, something sorely lacking in the guys she’d dated the last few years. Not that there’d been that many.
“Follow me,” she said, gesturing toward the English hall. “I’ll show you to your new home.”
* * *
Nate Ryan followed his new boss, trying desperately to keep from staring at her ass.
But damn… Her backside was tight and round and begging to be squeezed.
He hadn’t expected a department head to be so young. She couldn’t be that much older than his own twenty-three. How could she already be the leader of the whole English department? His mother had retired from teaching just last spring. She was barely fifty, but she’d been her school’s science department head for only three years.
Maybe Dani was the oldest in the English department. A lot of experienced teachers were leaving the profession. His mother’s retirement had all but been forced on her when the school corporation sponsored a buyout for teachers at the top of the pay scale. She’d crunched some numbers based on the money she’d saved over the years and what she’d get for jumping ship and decided that she’d do fine retiring.
His stepfather had joined her mother, taking his thirty-year pension from being a police detective and leaving the force. Now they were working together, writing books and running a blog about traveling in middle age. It was brilliant. Every trip they took was deductible, and they were able to go to the places they’d always dreamed of visiting.
Maybe Danielle Bradshaw had benefited from a mass exodus of older teachers with a promotion. “How old are you?”
Sweet Lord, he’d gone and blurted that out. He forgave himself because his curiosity was killing him.
She stopped and turned to face him. “Did you really just ask me that?”
“I’m afraid I did. Sorry.”
“Thirty-one,” she replied. “Any particular reason you need to know?”
Not at all surprised his cheeks felt flushed, he shrugged. “I’m really sorry. I was… curious. You seemed kinda young to be department head.”
Unlocking the door, she spoke over her shoulder. “I just got the job this year. You’ll be my first newbie.” She opened the door. “Here you go. Room thirteen.”
“Great,” he mumbled. Being a new teacher was tough enough. The last thing in the world he needed was to start out with an unlucky room number.
“It’s haunted, you know.” She tossed him an enigmatic smile.
“My room?”
“Yep. When the school was first built, this was a dressing area for the guys who refereed our basketball games. One of them collapsed during a game in 1976.”
“Heart attack?” he asked.
She nodded. “He died in this room.”
“Wonderful. Now I’ve got a ghost and an unlucky room number.”
Her laugh was as sweet as her voice. Some women had voices that grated on him. High-pitched. Squeaky. Made him want to gnash his teeth.
Dani’s voice was a pleasant register, her laugh husky and genuine.
“At least the heat and air-conditioning work in this room,” she countered. “My room is like a refrigerator all winter.”
“Where’s your room? I mean, you’re my mentor, right? Shouldn’t we be close?”
“I’m in eleven. Right across the hall. Don’t worry. If the kids get out of control, I’ve got a whip and a chair handy. Just scream. I’ll come running.”
His first classroom, a chance to start his career. Hopes high, Nate flipped on the bank of light switches. The fluorescent lights buzzed and popped, sputtering to life. One look around made him wish they hadn’t.
The place was horrible. Desks were lined up in institutional rows, all the seats a boring brown. The walls were what his mother always called “school beige,” and there wasn’t even a window to bring in any light.
Prisons had to be more inviting.
“Looks like I’m heading to Education Depot at lunch,” he said, talking more to himself than his boss. There was a shitload of stuff he’d have to buy. Bulletin board borders. Posters. A desk calendar. He was definitely starting from scratch since his mother had been a science teacher. None of her leftovers would really work with the exception of her YOU CAN’T SCARE ME, I TEACH poster.
“Nope,” Dani retorted. “Lunch will be with our department. It’s the only chance we get to meet before school starts tomorrow. You’ll have to go shopping after school.”
He frowned, panic tickling at his nerves.
He shouldn’t even be here. Nate had already accepted a job with a department store regional office, writing copy for their advertisements. He was supposed to start tomorrow. All the teaching jobs he’d applied for had been filled during the summer months, so he’d given up hope for this school year. That was as it should be. Teachers should be hired early enough to give them time to plan lessons, decorate classrooms, and gird their loins to face the students.
Instead, he’d received a phone call from Jim Reinhardt yesterday morning. Hoping to put his degree to better use than penning advertisements, he’d interviewed right after lunch and signed his contract first thing this morning. He had not a damn thing ready for the kids who’d be stepping across the threshold of room thirteen tomorrow to greet their new English teacher.
How in the hell am I going to do this?
“I’ll help as much as I can.” Dani laid her hand on his arm. “I’ve got your back.”
So he’d spoken the question aloud. Not a surprise. His former girlfriend said it was one of his less endearing habits. Of course, she had her own bad habits, one of those being her getting agitated with him easily and often.
Dani drew back her hand and moved toward the bare teacher’s desk with the grace of a ballerina. Her hair made him think of a dancer, too. Blond, even a lighter shade than his own. She’d pulled it into a tight bun that accentuated her slender neck.
He suddenly wanted to see how long her hair was, whether it was naturally straight when she let it down. And when she fixed her intense blue eyes on him, every thought he had seemed to fly right out of his brain.
Thirty-one. Eight years older. Nate had always been drawn to older women, probably because girls his age were so damned flighty. His one serious relationship had almost resulted in marriage, but his girlfriend’s behavior had changed abruptly after a miscarriage. She’d started going to parties, saying she needed to be young, that losing their baby had made her realize exactly how close she’d come to having to grow up before her time.
They’d broken up after dating less than a year.
Every date he’d gone on since then had left him fearing he’d never have another serious relationship. Did all twentysomething girls think going out and drinking themselves stupid was the only way to celebrate a weekend?
Nate hated going out. Drinking made his head hurt. Besides, he didn’t have too many close friends, so a night on the town would be boring. The friends he did have jokingly—or perhaps insultingly?—called him an old fogey. So what? He liked to be in bed by the end of the local news each night, and he was the ultimate creature of habit.
No, girls his age didn’t interest him.
But Danielle Bradshaw?
She interested Nate. A lot.
For all he knew, she was happily married with five kids. That, and she was his new boss, the woman who’d be evaluating him to see if this would be his one and only year teaching at Douglas High. He had no business thinking about her as anything but a colleague.
The
weight of the world suddenly settled on his shoulders. Tomorrow, six classes of eager new students would be sitting in those stark desks, expecting him to have a syllabus, a set of class rules, and a lesson to teach them.
What he had was jack shit.
Dani stepped over to one of the desks, her gaze sweeping the room. “I don’t know about you, but I hate having rows like this. I put my desks in pairs.”
“I can move things around?” The only classroom he’d spent time in had been when he student taught, and his supervising teacher hadn’t wanted Nate to do anything to personalize the room. That only emphasized the fact that it wasn’t Nate’s classroom.
She laughed at his question, and he felt his mouth twitch, threatening a grin in response. “It’s your room, Mr. Ryan. You can move the desks, the bookshelves, the—”
“Should be easy since they’re empty,” he drawled. “Not sure I’ll ever get used to Mr. Ryan, either.”
At least she got his dry sense of humor because she chuckled again. “When you hear it a hundred times a day, you will. And no worry on décor. I’ve got a ton of posters you can use.”
“Posters?”
“One of our teachers left a couple of years ago. Went on maternity leave and never came back. She left all of her stuff, and I didn’t toss it.”
“Typical teacher.”
She cocked her head. “Pardon?”
“You’re a pack rat.”
A smile lit her face. “I resemble that remark. But how do you know that? This is your first job, right?”
He nodded. “My mom was a teacher. I don’t think she’s ever thrown anything away. Always says she might need it for her classroom.”
“If she’s anything like me,” Dani said, “she never uses any of it. Right?”
“Right.”
“Let’s go to my room.” She herded him toward the door and flipped off the switches. “We’ll get you some stuff to brighten up this place.”
Although he appreciated her help, he had something more pressing. “I’d rather you hand me a stack of lesson plans for the week. I’ve got nada, not even a copy of the texts and novels I need to use.”