Least Likely to Fall in Love

by Cheryl Harper

  With a snort and universal teenage eye roll, Maddie waved one hand and left.

  Chapter Two

  When the door closed quietly after Maddie retreated, Ryan turned back around to meet Lindy Mason’s stare across the desk. He loosened his tie in order to get more oxygen to his brain. Ever since he’d gotten the call that he needed to come because Maddie had been involved in some kind of altercation, he’d been gasping for air and whispering prayers to beg for her safety and his own sanity.

  Then he’d realized that Principal Mason was Lindy Mason, a girl he’d never forgotten but still hoped to never see again for years, and breathing in and out regularly had become a serious question mark.

  Now was not a good time to lose oxygen to his brain. Lindy Mason had always been sharp. He needed all his wits.

  She was sitting in a shaft of sunlight that gave her hair a golden glow and he wondered if she always took men’s breath away. The years had been kind to Lindy, better than anyone else he could remember running into since he’d come back to Lincoln. She’d given up bad highlights and straightening her curls into frizzy clumps. Now her hair was a healthy, gleaming brown and curls danced when she shook her head. Her eyes were as clear and surprising as they had been in high school, but now, maybe it was her makeup or the lighting or something, the deep brown was more mysterious. She wore the proper principal’s uniform, a dark suit and sensible heels, but it was tailored to perfection. The curves she’d done her best to camouflage with ugly sweaters were contained but not hidden. Given his choice, he’d have spent a little time figuring out those curves at seventeen. Instead, he’d dated the right girl. And look where that got him—raising a kid who could talk circles around him all by himself.

  Sitting across from the principal. All alone.

  This suit, that hair, some maturity—it was a damn good look for her.

  Too bad he’d been such a bastard to her in high school.

  Picking on Lindy Mason was just one of the things he’d done to make it out of there in one piece. If he thought too long about any of them, he wanted to kick his own ass and then punch his father square in the nose. At eighteen, he’d been certain he was never coming back to Lincoln.

  Then his father died. His mother needed help and getting Maddie to fifteen without breaking her already seemed like a miracle. Now that Maddie was closer to a woman than a little girl, he’d hoped his mother might help them both. Feeding and clothing her had been pretty simple. Answering her questions about friends and boys and whatever else might be coming was going to be hell on his nerves. Having some support was incentive to move back to Lincoln. And less than two months into the school year, he’d been called into the principal’s office for the first time in Maddie’s school career.

  Facing the girl who’d been such an easy target for him.

  The inadequate apology he’d wanted to blurt out the second he’d recognized her still burned the end of his tongue, but he had the feeling she would tell him what to do with it if he tried. As she should.

  It was worth a shot, though.

  His second shock, the one that hit him after she’d collapsed when the other parents left, was how much he’d like to get to know the new, confident, funny Lindy. She was still as annoyingly smart as she’d ever been. Her creative and educational punishment as well as the gleam in her eyes proved that. Now he was man enough to appreciate it.

  But he didn’t date, even if he had been thinking of testing the waters again. Moving back to Lincoln had seriously limited those waters. Raising a brilliant teenage girl all by himself required so much energy that he’d only been dreaming of dating like he dreamed of hot beaches and cold drinks.

  The first woman to interest him enough to reconsider the risk and energy required in years, hated him worse than taxes and cavities combined. As she should.

  He wished he had help coming up with the right words for an awkward situation like this one. Too bad the brains in the family was fiddling with his radio presets right now.

  “So.” He creased a fold over the knees of his pants and tried to figure out where he was going.

  She raised both eyebrows and waited. There would be no help coming from her direction.

  “Is this like the definition of irony? The high school bully gets called before the girl he teased and has to make amends…”

  “No, that’s not irony.” She pursed her full lips and he thought again how good the years had been to her. “That’s what I’d call karma, Ryan.” Her lips twitched as she waited for his reaction.

  He couldn’t argue with that. “I can’t apologize enough for being a rotten shit in high school, Lindy. All I can do is offer you my deepest thanks for not taking it out on Maddie. She’s had a rough time lately and…she could use some help.” He heaved out a sigh. “So could I. Being a teenage girl is a lot harder than I ever thought.”

  He wanted her to tell him everything was all right, that of course she accepted his apology, or even that she appreciated how much he’d grown in the years in between then and now to offer it and also compliment him on how fabulous his daughter was.

  Instead she nodded. And that was it.

  He inched forward in his chair and smiled. Whether it was a traffic ticket or arriving half an hour late for an appointment, the smile worked. He counted on it. She raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

  “Aren’t you going to accept my apology?” The confusion he could hear in his own voice wasn’t helping his case.

  She shrugged. He figured that would do nice things for her breasts, but the suit jacket was impenetrable. And he already had one foot in creeper territory and the other was on a banana peel.

  Focus on what’s really important, idiot.

  “What am I supposed to say to that, Ryan?” She ran a hand through her silky hair. “The grown-up, full-on adult thing to say is ‘Of course.’ We all did things in high school that we aren’t proud of, right? And I’m pretty happy with where I am now.”

  She ran a hand over the clean top of her desk.

  “So, yes, I accept your apology.” She shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean I can forget who you were. That doesn’t mean that I can forget how you made me feel. I have to live with those memories. They don’t just disappear because you say you’re sorry, even if you really mean it and wish you’d never done it now that you have a vulnerable daughter. You should understand that.” She bit her lip like she was sorry she’d let all those words go. Not much had changed, then. When he’d picked on her in high school, she’d done her best not to respond but had never been able to control her mouth completely.

  She pulled out her bottom drawer and yanked out a purse big enough for a three-day trip. “But you should also know that I would never take that out on Maddie. Being a target hurts. It’s been a long time, but I remember. I have this job because I care about students. All of them, no matter who their parents are.”

  The sting might be deserved but he hated it. Accepting his apology was one thing. Moving past his dumb mistakes was another. He wanted to stop her. She was getting ready to stand up and usher him out the door, but he hadn’t come up with the magic words yet. He was used to women loving him. The idea that she didn’t and never would was a hard one to come to terms with.

  Frustrated, he slapped his hands on the arms of the chair and stood. “Thanks for your help, Lindy. Please let me know if Maddie needs more counseling. And I’d like to come up and help with the repairs on the football field.”

  When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up a hand. “And Maddie can, too. Maybe. I just…” There was no way this would ever make amends for teasing her, but it felt right. “Working together could help.”

  Lindy hooked one loose curl behind her ear. “Fine. If you want to join on Saturday, please do. I’m sure Coach will be happy to have another set of hands or two.”

  Ryan turned to open her office door. “Are you on your way out? I’ll walk with you.”

  Her polite yet disgruntled face was priceless. S
he wanted to tell him no, she wasn’t leaving, or to go to hell, or in some way separate herself from his clutches. But she was leaving. And she couldn’t lie any more than she could tell him to go to hell. So she pasted on a smile and preceded him through the door.

  He’d seen that expression before. It was the one that said nothing affected her. It had made him nuts after she transferred into Lincoln High School. No matter how witty he was, she was unmoved and he had to try harder. That had always been his father’s position, too. Try harder.

  Everyone knew teasing didn’t count without a reaction. And that was the only way his father believed he was as tough as he needed to be: by how many people he had made cry that week.

  Real leaders don’t worry about hurt feelings, Ryan. Toughen up.

  As always, remembering his father’s words of “wisdom” made him angry. They also made him determined to do things differently with Maddie.

  And now Lindy Mason was rubber, he was glue, and absolutely nothing was going to stick to her. Not anymore.

  “Sue, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Lindy slid her purse strap over her shoulder and walked sedately in front of him.

  “Sure thing, boss.” Sue waggled her eyebrows at him, and he bit back a chuckle. If she only knew how unlikely any funny business was, she’d be chasing him with a freshly sharpened number two pencil.

  As Lindy stepped outside, the wind whipped her hair out, and he could smell something fresh and sweet. She quickly tucked the misbehaving hair behind her ear and motioned toward a MINI Cooper parked in the first faculty spot. “I’m just there.”

  They could both see Maddie in the front seat of his truck. From the way her head was bobbing to music they couldn’t hear, he could tell she hadn’t followed his last order. His radio pre-sets were all country. His girl was one-hundred percent pop. Always had been.

  He sighed. “I’ve lost control of the radio.”

  Lindy laughed. “She’s feeling better. Maybe you can stand a little boy band?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and jingled the change there. “Guess I can, although it’s not going to be easy.”

  “Good luck with that.” She turned to go, but he stopped her with one hand at her elbow.

  “Hey, Lindy…” Brilliant. He was making a habit of starting things he had couldn’t finish. She shifted away from him and he quickly offered her his hand. “Thank you for everything.” He waited until she slipped her hand in his and managed to pretend the satisfying warmth of her skin had no effect on him. He squeezed her hand and then allowed her to pull away.

  She clenched her hand in a fist and said, “Just doing my job, Ryan.” Lindy turned away, unlocked her car, slid in behind the wheel, and slammed the door. After she started it up, she waved once at Maddie and drove off. Ryan stood on the sidewalk and watched her bright red, tiny car disappear in the distance while he tried to decide what to do.

  “C’mon, Dad. You said yogurt.” Maddie rolled the window up and made the “what’s taking so long?” gesture in the window.

  He slid behind the wheel and started the truck before sending a speaking glance from her face to the radio. He was happy to see the hint of her normal sparkle in her eyes when she said, “You took too long.”

  He grunted and then pulled out of the parking spot. As he made the short drive to the yogurt shop, he tried to figure out just what the hell he’d say to his daughter. This was important. If she’d been bullied before, there was no telling how hurt she might be or what he could do to fix it. But he desperately wanted to fix it. She was all he had in the world. He couldn’t stand to see her unhappy. Although, it was nice to see her eyes without all the makeup. He’d never figured out a good way to tell her to drop it.

  After she sampled all the flavors and loaded up plain chocolate with every topping known to man, Maddie slid into a booth. He grabbed a handful of napkins and joined her.

  He was happy enough to enjoy his raspberry-vanilla swirl in silence, but that would never do.

  “Got a lot of homework tonight?” He liked to beat around the bush apparently.

  She slid down farther in the booth. “Not too bad. Need to start on the Spanish chapter.”

  He shoved another spoonful of yogurt in his mouth for more time to think.

  When her next stab sent chocolate sprinkles across the table, he looked up. She squeezed her eyes shut and blurted, “It’s not true. I’m not a …” She broke off and surveyed the nearly empty store.

  Ryan nodded. “Okay.”

  “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” She punched her spoon into the mess of toppings in her cup, and he took another leisurely bite. Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d work through this all on her own right here and now. She always had been smarter than he was.

  “I mean, that was just a stupid thing to say. Just because boys aren’t interested in me doesn’t mean I don’t have any interest in them, you know?” Her eyes were serious as she glared at him. As much as he wanted to do a victory dance that he had time to figure out the boys issue, now was not the time to celebrate.

  The leather of the booth made an obnoxious noise as he leaned back. They both heh-hehed at the noise as Maddie shoveled in a disgusting mixture of sprinkles, yogurt, nuts, and gummy worms.

  “Maddie, listen.” He needed some words of wisdom here, something she could remember and draw on in later years when he wasn’t around to protect her. “Boys are idiots. They always have been and they always will be.”

  She tilted her head and the only thing sparing him a “C’mon, Dad” was that her mouth was still processing enough candy for one solid month.

  “It’s the truth. Some of them get lucky and grow into reasonable men. Just save yourself some trouble. Wait for that to happen, okay?”

  When she swallowed the last of her bowl of toppings, she snorted. “Dad, I’m not sure you should hit me with that much truth, you know?”

  He nodded. “I’m totally cool like that.”

  She picked up a napkin, wiped her mouth with it, and balled it up to shove it in the empty yogurt cup. “I’m just sorry Principal Mason got involved. Otherwise, this whole thing would have blown over.”

  “Is this the first time they’ve picked on you?” Her eyes darted to his, and she started to slide out of the booth but he grabbed her hand to hold her in place. “Tell me. Please.”

  She tried to laugh it off. “No, but it’s just been dumb names and a shove or two in the hallway, you know? Nothing like this.”

  “Did you tell anybody?”

  “No! No, I didn’t want anybody to know.” She wiped her chin on her shoulder and then ruffled the stack of napkins.

  He let go of her hand and just felt helpless. He voice was quiet as he said, “I wish you’d told me.”

  “Sorry. There wasn’t much you could do. Besides, if they’d just left it there, it was no big deal.”

  He dropped his spoon in the melted mess of yogurt in his cup. “Do they pick on other kids?”

  “Not like me, but yeah.”

  Ryan resisted the urge to grab both of her hands in his. Barely. He wanted her safe and happy. “Anybody else tell on them? To a teacher? Or Principal Mason?”

  She snorted. “Of course not. Everybody knows that just makes things worse.”

  They were both quiet for a minute. Maddie glanced around the shop to avoid his stare but all he wanted to do was memorize her face right here and now. He wasn’t ready to talk about boys or to worry about violence. He wanted her to be the little girl who used to kiss the stuffed puppy he’d won at the state fair good night before he tucked the covers around her shoulders at night.

  “Do you really think I need to talk to Principal Mason?” Her voice was quiet, but he could hear hope. She wanted him to say no and get her out of it. And now he was more convinced than ever that he needed as much help as he could get.

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’s a good idea. She’s been trained. She’s a girl. She can confirm what I’ve told you about boy
s.” He winked at her rolled eyes.

  As she slid out of the booth, she asked, “Were you ever bullied?”

  He held her hand as they walked out the door and enjoyed every minute. The older she got, the less she’d allow it. He hated imagine her reaction if he admitted that he’d been the bully. “Nope. I guess I got lucky.”

  “And I just know Mom never had a problem with bullies. She was probably so popular that the football team carried her through the hallway on a litter.”

  He never knew how to answer questions or comments about Anna. He knew how much Maddie missed her and needed a mother, but living with her hadn’t been all that easy. And now that she was dead, living with her memory was harder. In Maddie’s mind she was a stunning combo of Betty Crocker and Miss Universe. In real life, she might have looked like Miss Universe, but she had the predictability of Mother Nature. She’d died in a car crash just before Maddie’s seventh birthday.

  At the time, he hadn’t been sure their marriage would make it past the holiday weekend the whole family was planning to spend at the in-laws’ lake house. He suffered some guilt every now and then about how ready he’d been to make that break, but he’d never have wished Anna’s death on Maddie. He’d much rather face custody battles and alimony wars than know that his daughter would feel the loss of her mother for the rest of her life.

  Now was one of those times Maddie needed a woman to talk to. Maybe, if Anna had lived, she’d have grown, too, been able to face something like this with grace and understanding.

  And his mother… Well, she hadn’t ever been good at handling bullies.

  As it was, he was proud of his daughter. Her maturity impressed him.

  Maddie slid into the seat, buckled her belt, and then turned up the radio as soon as he got the truck started. She bounced and danced in her seat all the way home, so he didn’t have the heart to tell her to turn that racket down. He was too damned young to turn into his father now.