Mark flipped through the chemistry book, not really reading, Ben thought. He might have been looking at the pictures but nothing in depth. He looked up at her with questions in his gray-blue eyes.
He closed the book and stacked it with the other papers. “So? Anything else I should know?”
“Nope. That’s about everything I can think of, but don’t hesitate to call if Thomas is having troubles. I don’t anticipate problems, but if they pop up I’m happy to help with tutoring.”
“That’s nice, thanks.” Mark shuffled the books and papers, a classic delay tactic. Ben bit back a smile as she watched him shift them from back to front again as he made no attempt to leave the room. “I’ll fill out this stuff tonight and send it with Thomas tomorrow.”
“Oh, just a second.” If she didn’t get the numbers she’d be in trouble, so she reached for the books. Their hands collided for the second time. The handshake had been nice, but the casual, innocent touch was much more and she fought herself from blushing like one of her students. “I, um, need to write down the numbers.”
He grinned and slid the book across the table, the back of his hand brushing against hers again, and she shivered.
“No problem, Ms. Riggs. I sure wouldn’t want to cause any clerical problems.”
She quickly opened the book and tried to be professional and efficient as she added Thomas’s name to the inside cover and into her ledger. Mark’s gaze settled on her, and once again she scolded herself for even thinking about flirting or being flattered. She had no business smiling at nice men with the trouble following her.
“Okay, there you go.” Taking special pains not to touch him, she slid the book back. “The other is a workbook he needs to keep close track of because it has a lot of his homework for the year. Oh, and Thomas mentioned his parents are in France. Should I add them to my contact lists or put their address down for sending report cards to or anything?”
Mark shook his head, the sparkle of his smile slightly diminishing. “I take care of all of his school stuff, so don’t worry about his parents. I’ll make sure he knows about the workbook, but I know he’ll take good care of it.”
“I’m sure he’s very responsible,” Ben said, wondering if the flirting had been killed by the subject of Thomas’s parents, which was obviously uglier than she’d thought.
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but I do have him changing his socks every day now.” His sense of humor was back and with it came the playful feelings that had been bubbling in her since his arrival.
When Mark’s smile deepened again, she at least had the boost of knowing she wasn’t alone in the unexpected attraction. She was ready to put a stop on her bubbles and be completely professional when he winked. It had the same effect as earlier and heat crawled up her neck. She hadn’t been winked at in years, let alone twice in one sitting.
“Um…” What did one say when they were winked at?
“Is there anything else I need to do or have Thomas do? Any first day homework? Maybe we should have him read the first chapter or ten?”
“No homework yet.” She smiled at his impish grin and was thankful for the reprieve from having to respond to the wink. His nature was infectious, and it crossed her mind that he probably winked at all the girls and had a line waiting for him somewhere. That helped her focus on the situation again. “I’m sure he’ll have plenty before long.”
“First two chapters it is,” he replied, tucking the books under his arm. “Don’t worry, Ms. Riggs, the extra work will be good for the boy.”
She laughed out loud and might have let herself forget about the probable gaggle of women falling in his charming wake if a student hadn’t come in with a big basket.
“Hey, Susan. Can I help you?”
The girl trudged over and unloaded her burden. She stepped away and let out a theatric sigh. Ben wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to such drama.
“Ms. Riggs, I’m so glad you’re still here. My mom had this in her room and forgot to bring it down. I was supposed to set it on your desk, but here ya go. All the new teachers get one, kind of a welcome basket. So welcome.”
“Thank you. This is so nice. Did your mother put it together?”
“No way. The school board members bring stuff to add, I just deliver. Gotta go, Mom’s waiting.” The girl took off with energy Ben envied after a long day.
She pulled the card from the ribbon on the top and skimmed over it, stopping short when she came to a typed name. “Hey, you’re on here. Mark Dougstat.”
“Yeah, I help with sports stuff.” His embarrassed tone was a far cry from the teasing he’d been doing only moments earlier. The change was intriguing, but she focused on the card.
“Oh yeah? I guess that makes sense since Thomas is in sports. I love this birdhouse, who makes them?”
“Ah, I do. It’s my hobby.” His cheeks tinged pink in the most adorable way she’d ever seen. “My niece paints them for me.”
“Well, it’s all just wonderful. It’s so good to be home.”
“That’s right, you’re from here, aren’t you?” he asked, making no move to leave. “Daniel and Sarah Riggs’s daughter, right?”
“Yeah, and the Miss Benfri who worked at the library for decades is my aunt. I left for college in Chicago when I was seventeen, and now I’m back.” She stayed vague with details because she wasn’t ready to give anything more specific to him or anyone else in town. There were wounds still too new to discuss, and she wanted a fresh start. “It’s good to be back. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.”
“Yeah, it grows on ya,” Mark agreed and stood. Ben knew she should be relieved they were finally parting ways, but part of her wanted him to stay. “Well, I suppose I’d better hit the grocery store before Thomas gets home and finds the refrigerator without Gatorade or fruit snacks.”
“It was nice meeting you, Mark.” She offered her hand again. The simple handshake indulged a tiny bit of her need for contact, at least it was appropriate. “Oh, and I believe Thomas mentioned peanut butter. You wouldn’t want to forget that.”
“Heaven forbid. You have a good night, Ms. Riggs.” He shook as professionally as before, but she didn’t miss the added squeeze at the end and wondered if he’d had as much fun as she did in their simple, playful exchange. It was too bad nice men who were also ruggedly handsome and funny weren’t in her sphere anymore. The wonderfully crooked smile was not for and could never be hers.
“It’s Ben, actually. I only have my students call me Ms. Riggs.”
“Ben, Benfri right?”
She nodded and waited for the questions that nearly always followed about her name.
“Ben it is.” Mark smiled. “Welcome home.”
Chapter 3
After looking through the basket and finding a fifty dollar gift certificate from the chamber of commerce, Ben headed directly to the grocery store. She’d been prepared to live on cereal until her first paycheck, but with the discovery came the promise of protein, or at least cheap hotdogs.
She grabbed a cart and smiled as she faced the familiar store. Everything was exactly where it had been the last time she’d walked the aisles nearly a decade earlier with her aunt. With a step much lighter than when she’d started her day, she headed down the first aisle.
The packages were updated for the most part, but there was a bit of a time warp as she passed the more southern grits and in a real flashback to her childhood, lard. She hadn’t had lard fried chicken in years, and her butt thanked her for that. The grits though, they might be something she’d revisit soon.
Trying to be practical, she bought better cereal, string cheese, milk, canned fruit, canned soups and bread because it was all easy and so far she didn’t have anything more than a small soup pan to cook in. With Thomas’s request staying in her mind and sounding fantastic she grabbed peanut butter and looked longingly at the jelly, but her budget didn’t allow it and her thighs didn’t need it.
She loosened up her thigh and
budget rules when she got to the freezer aisle. She allowed an indulgence because she was human and dealt with teenagers all day. A carton of double chocolate chip called her name, and she knew that at the end of the day it would be cold, sweet and chocolaty delicious. Ice cream was a perfectly respectable crutch for her at times. Even her Aunt Willy, the sourest woman Ben knew, never begrudged a little treat on occasion.
She looked at the carton in her hand and frowned when she noticed the torn plastic around the edges. The next one in the case was ripped too. There was no way she was going to buy freezer burned ice cream. Ben leaned down and reached for the third in line. There were other options, but she still went for the good stuff. She could always try vanilla, but really. Why bother?
* * * *
Mark turned into the freezer section. His mental list hadn’t seemed that big when he’d left the house, but as he shopped he remembered how much food Thomas had gone through in the past three days. Since he was in town and at the store, he might as well re-stock the pantry.
The six week reprieve while the kids had been in France with their parents had been nice in a few ways. The grocery bill and sheer amount of time he’d spent at the store had reduced drastically. But he was making up for it now.
Thomas had grown six inches, all legs which were constantly empty, so there was never enough food in the house. Mark remembered those days, but still, the never-ending flow going into the kid astounded him.
Not to be outshined, Kira had decided to become a vegetarian. A nine-year-old anti-meat eater who lived on a working dairy farm where they raised a few beef cattle for cash on the side was not ideal.
Mark shook his head as he threw a bag of frozen cheese ravioli in the cart. He hoped the vegetarianism thing was a phase. There was nothing endearing about hearing every time he ate a steak that eating anything with a face made him a cannibal.
He remembered potpies and headed down the second freezer aisle. When he looked up from tossing the pies in his cart he caught sight of a generous backside filling out a khaki skirt. Ben Riggs. Despite the recent and much too brief introduction, he’d recognize her anywhere.
Part of him wished they’d known each other before she left Flathead Falls. She was quite a few years younger than him so they’d never hung out together. Watching her straighten and toss her hair back, he smiled. He would have liked having memories of Ben.
But he didn’t mind the new memory he was making of her. Her thighs were the rounded, strong kind like the women who played catcher on softball teams. They looked muscular and tough but still soft to the touch. When she bent slightly forward he could have groaned at the pretty picture she made. Her thighs and hips led to a waist that was maybe a little chubby, but he’d never really paid enough attention to women to give an honest comparison.
He just knew he liked what he saw, a healthy, soft woman.
“Well, hello, Ben.” Mark moved next to her cart to grab the largest tub of vanilla ice cream the store carried. “Sure is nice to see you again so soon.”
“Oh, hi.” Ben eyed his overflowing cart with a bemused smile. “I bet you have to do this often with a teenage boy at home.”
“And don’t forget his little sister, who can go pound for pound on most things during a growth spurt.” Mark added a jug of chocolate syrup from the stand beside the freezer case. “And at the end of the day you’ll be hard pressed to find a farm boy who doesn’t like a bowl of ice cream.”
“I bet. So you have both of the kids?”
“Yep. You haven’t heard the whole story yet?” he asked, the market quiet in the pre-supper rush. She shook her head and the pretty corkscrew curls that had been locked in a clip slipped free. He wondered if she knew how distracting she was, but forged on to answer her question, “Their mom is my older sister. She’s married to a French scientist. Kimmy is a scientist too, and they work on cancer drugs over in a French lab. She and her husband spend most of their time working, and they wanted the kids to be educated here. I was elected as guardian.”
Ben paused in front of another case and turned to him. She had freckles. How could he have overlooked them when they met in the classroom? Must have been her eyes, Mark thought as her gaze connected with his again. Her kind of eyes could make a man forget his name.
“That’s so great of you, Mark. They’re lucky to have such a generous uncle. Do you help coach football? I was invited thirty-seven times today to go to the freshman and b-squad games on Thursday night and was wondering if you might know what time I should be there?”
“Six if you can. I don’t help coach, but I try to make it to all of Thomas’s games. Kira does too. They usually last an hour tops, so we get back in time for milking.” The reminder made him look at his watch and bite back a curse. Now that he was getting another chance with Ben he wanted to make the most of it, but duty called. “Speaking of chores, I didn’t realize how late it was getting. I better get home.”
* * * *
“Yeah, same here. I should get going before my ice cream melts.” Ben laughed and followed Mark with her sparsely filled cart.
She should have known better, but when she chose checkouts she went with the younger cashier. By the time the girl had rung up ten items, the old pro at the register Mark had gone to was finished. Ben paid and was thrilled to still have money left on the gift card even after splurging. She hefted the two bags and wished she’d driven her car.
With a sigh she headed for the door. Her apartment was only six blocks away. She could walk, and it would probably do her a lot of good. It wasn’t like she was in a hurry anyway, so the walk would be fine.
“Ah damn, you aren’t walking home, are you?” Mark appeared out of nowhere and plucked one of her bags from her arms. Her heart raced at the suddenness of his appearance, but she swallowed back the immediate fear. She had to remember she wasn’t in Chicago anymore.
She cleared her throat and followed him after he put her bag in his cart. “Yes, I’m walking home. It’s only a few blocks away. The Matterhast Apartments.”
“Come on, I’ll give you a ride. It’s on my way, and your ice cream will melt for sure if you walk in this heat.” He motioned her to a dirty, eighties-style rust bucket that most likely had been a truck at one time.
She pasted on a smile as she followed him. Being told what to do was one of her least favorite things lately. She counseled herself to be patient with the well-intentioned man. Watching the way Mark’s hips moved as he walked went a long way in soothing her irritation.
“You don’t have to, Mark. I appreciate the offer but–”
“How long were you in Chicago?” he broke in without turning back to face her.
“Ah, almost a decade.”
“Then you were gone long enough to forget how we do things in small towns. Let me refresh your memory. When someone needs a ride and another person has a vehicle, we share a ride. If someone needs a hose and their neighbor isn’t using theirs, it’s lent so they don’t have to drive thirty miles to Wal-Mart.”
He tossed bags into the truck’s bed as he spoke. Resigned, Ben stepped closer and helped him load his groceries into the bins in the back.
When he looked over and grinned, her annoyance slipped away without her permission. He winked again. “It’ll come back to you, I’m sure.”
She laughed and settled the last bag in the bin.
“Smartass,” she muttered. “Okay, you might be right about me still being in the Chicago mindset. Thank you for the offer and for the ride. I appreciate it.”
“There you go, sweetheart, it’s coming back fast.” He was teasing again like he had at the school, and she liked it. Browsing through the bags he looked up when he found her ice cream. “I’ve got a cooler back here. Want me to toss this in? The cab’s gonna be hotter than hell and the AC is broken.”
Tongue in cheek she gave an over-exaggerated sigh. “Of course it is. A broken AC and a hot running truck are prerequisites for any farm vehicle. Thanks for thinking of my ice cream.”
>
She took her remaining bags and jumped into the truck while he corralled the cart. She coughed when the seat let loose a poof of gravel dust. Mark hopped in and the dust flew again.
“Sorry about that,” he said with a light blush. “I would have brought the car if I thought anyone else would be riding with me. You can open your window if you want. The crank only sticks at first.”
She turned the sticky manual lever as he started the truck. Belying the rust and age, the engine fired up with no hesitation. Thankfully, he had the truck moving in only a few seconds. The interior was so hot and stagnant that it took a block before fresh air circulated.
Ben said a small prayer of thankfulness for the tiny but ferocious window air conditioner that kept her apartment cool. She’d forgotten the power of a Missouri heat wave. Usually by September Chicago was cooling down, but Missouri had weeks left until even the nights became bearable.
The air conditioner at her apartment worked perfectly though, so she already pictured her night. The hum of the truck engine soothed her closer to the sleep her exhausted body craved. She could crank the air full blast, spread her paperwork on her bed and have a bowl of ice cream.
“I bet you’re wrecked after a long day with all those kids.” Mark’s comment broke her out of her blessedly cool fantasy.
“Oh, yeah. It was actually my first day ever teaching. I had all the credits and practice semesters, but I’ve never had my own classroom,” she replied.
“Really? What were you doing with all that education then if you weren’t teaching?”
Not a damn thing, she thought bitterly. All the time she’d wasted could have been time spent helping kids, but that wasn’t an answer she wanted to give to Mark. “I was getting my Masters degree and considering med school. I got the degree, but decided teaching was the better choice for me.”
He nodded and turned at an intersection. “Yeah? That’s great. And it works out well for the school too. I always like when they hire hometown people. It’s good for the kids to see someone who’s been in their shoes make something of themselves, and then come back and share their gifts.”
Teaching Ms. Riggs Page 2