A cup of convenience-store coffee in hand and a notebook tucked under her arm, Katie Sara opened the door of her alma mater and stepped inside the high-ceilinged hall as the newest member of its faculty.
Boy, would HGTV love to get its hands on this place. The green on the walls and ceiling looked like the underbelly of something that had crawled from beneath a rock.
Rhonda glanced up as Katie Sara passed the front office. Racing into the hall, she whispered, “You look awful. What happened?”
“Don’t ask. Not one of my better mornings.”
“You okay?”
Katie Sara nodded. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah, let’s go.” She pointed down the hall. “Are you sick?”
Of moonlight, motorcycles, and bad boys, maybe. Her temperature spiked. Reiner’s finger, sliding beneath her—
Lost in thought, she stopped.
“Katie Sara?” Rhonda, a good ten feet in front of her, frowned.
“Coming!” Oh, jeez! Flushing, she fanned herself with her notebook and hurried to catch up with her friend. The old high school still had oak floors, and her short heels echoed hollowly.
Mentally, Katie Sara called Reiner every foul name she’d ever heard, made up a few, then moved on to herself, running through every synonym for imbecile known to mankind.
“What’s up?” Rhonda asked.
“Stop it! That’s worse!” Hand up, Katie Sara ground to a halt in the middle of the hallway. “Don’t say another word!”
Grabbing Rhonda’s sleeve, she headed toward the girls’ room and all but pushed her inside. Kneeling, she peeked under every stall.
Rhonda stood inside the door, watching her warily. Finally, her petite blond friend had had enough. “What in the world is wrong with you? Not a good first-day impression.”
Certain they were alone, Katie Sara fell back against one of the stalls. “I know, but every single thing I think, every single thing anyone says reminds me of sex!” She turned tired, frustrated eyes to her friend.
Rhonda stared, dumbfounded.
Face tipped toward the ceiling, Katie Sara groaned. “I’m not kidding, Rhonda.” She closed her eyes. “This is serious. How can I teach sex education if I’m constantly...constantly...”
“Turned on?” Rhonda laughed, and Katie Sara snarled and swatted her.
“Not funny! I’m teaching abstinence.”
“To thirteen and fourteen-year-olds, not twenty-nine-year-olds, for Heaven’s sake.”
“To people who aren’t married,” Katie Sara countered.
“Bull.”
“All right, smarty. How do you handle it?”
“Now you’re gettin’ personal.” Rhonda’s fair skin turned bright red.
“Sorry. You’re right. I withdraw the question.”
“No, I’ll answer it.” Her chin came up. “To be honest, Woody never really was all that great in bed. He was interested in one thing. Himself. I doubt it ever entered his mind to consider if he satisfied me.” Disgusted, she grimaced. “I didn’t matter to him. He just did his thing, and that was that. Quite frankly, since I finally got strong enough to go it alone, I’ve been too busy and too tired for sex to be much of a priority.”
Eyes that held a mixture of sadness and hope met Katie Sara’s. “Maybe someday I’ll meet Prince Charming, and I’ll find out what all the fuss is about. I’m definitely leaving my light on.” Her blue eyes sparkled. “Easy as shootin’ fish in a barrel to see all this has something to do with Reiner. I’d bet my grandmama’s pearls that you two have the answer to the sex question all figured out.”
“My problem doesn’t have anything to do with Reiner,” Katie Sara bit out.
At Rhonda’s quirked brow, she backed down. “Okay, maybe a little bit.” Sheepishly, she shared an abridged version of the moonlight ride, one that excluded the blanket interlude. “I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.”
“No, I wouldn’t imagine you did.”
“It’s been too long, Rhonda. I didn’t think I’d miss sex, and I haven’t up till now. The motorcycle ride stirred up old memories, that’s all.”
“Have you dated since you and Corbin broke up?”
Katie Sara moved to the sink and toyed with the water faucet, turning it on and off. “A couple of times.”
“Slept with anyone?”
“Well...”
“That’s what I thought. It’s been a year, right?
She lifted her eyes, met Rhonda’s in the speckled mirror. “Eleven months.”
“Nothing serious since then?”
“No, and I’m not sure the deal with Corbin was really all that serious. Our split didn’t leave me broken-hearted.”
Rhonda’s mouth kicked up in a cat-ate-the-canary grin. “These...ah...feelings you’re having. They’ve been botherin’ you for quite a while?”
“No! That’s just it. All of a sudden—” She grimaced as she recognized the trap her conniving pal had baited and set. She shook her head. “Uh-uh. You’re wrong.”
She strode across the room, pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway, Rhonda hot on her heels.
“Keep tellin’ yourself that, sugar, if it makes you feel better.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Suppose it had been Kip outside your window last night.”
“Kip’s married!”
“Oh, bother! I know that! I pulled his name out of the air. Okay, how about—”
Katie Sara laid a hand on Rhonda’s arm.
A superb male specimen headed toward them. Bronzed and buff, she figured he must be a second cousin twice removed from the Greek gods. He rumbled good morning to Rhonda as he passed, but his tawny eyes zeroed in on Katie Sara.
He threw her a killer smile and passed, leaving a hint of warm masculine aftershave in his wake.
When he disappeared around the corner, Katie Sara murmured, “Nice butt. Seriously nice butt.”
“Dru Dennison, the chemistry teacher.” Hands on her hips, Rhonda faced her. “Okay, so here’s the question. Would you have ended up naked under the moonlight with him? With Dru?”
“I said we went for a ride!”
“Uh-huh.”
“We didn’t get naked. Not completely.”
“Splittin’ hairs. And you didn’t answer the question.”
“Jeez, did the CIA train you?”
Rhonda didn’t bat an eye. “The truth. Would you have gotten naked with Dru Dennison?”
“No.”
“Point made.”
Katie Sara sighed. “I have to get ready for class.”
“Of course you do.”
“It would only have been our first date!” she called after her friend. “Ask me again after our second or third one!”
“So how was school today, squirt?” Reiner leaned over to open the door of his ’Vette. He’d had Tim drive him over to Gina’s to pick it up. Talk about uncomfortable. He wouldn’t pull that stunt again.
Felicity shrugged, and Reiner noticed the black crop top was way too short for school. Way too short for public! And the black jeans were way too baggy. They were practically falling off her. How had the outfit escaped Bel’s censorship?
This whole daddy thing should be interesting.
One hand on the door, she said, “Some of the kids are staring at you. Some probably at the car, but most are looking at you.”
“More likely, they’re starin’ at the good lookin’ girl hoppin’ in beside me.” He’d put the top down and hand-combed his fingers through wind-blown hair.
“Get real!”
He grinned. “I am. Lose that nose-jewelry so a boy figures he can get close enough to kiss you, and who knows? But—” He pointed a finger at her. “Not on my watch. Come on, now. Toss your books in, and let’s go.”
“Don’t you hate that, Uncle Reiner? People always nosing around and snooping into your business?”
“You get used to it. It’s part of the package.” He shrugged. “First day okay? Considering it’s summer school.” He pulled a face.
“Today was pretty sweet, actually.” She slid in and dumped her backpack on the floor. “Ms. McMichaels is cool.”
“Ms. Mc—” He choked and started to cough. Wiping a tear from his eye, he cleared his throat. “Belhamina registered you for—”
“Sex Ed.” Felicity crossed her eyes. “You know Auntie Belham. She thought it was time I knew the facts, and that I learn them the right way.”
His body became a six-foot-two raging inferno. What would Felicity say if she knew that her sex-ed teacher had learned about the birds and the bees in the backseat of her uncle’s car? That it was his hands, his mouth, his body—
“Uncle Reiner?”
“Huh?”
She gave him an odd look. “You okay?”
“Absolutely.”
“I think she was worried about being responsible for a teenage girl, you know?”
Oh, did he ever! His niece taking sex lessons from Katie Sara? He ground the gears as he shifted into first and grimaced.
“Jeez, Uncle Reiner. Want me to drive?”
He glared at her. “I most certainly do not.” A deep breath, a count to ten, and they left the school—and Katie Sara—behind.
He needed to cool off. “Want some ice cream?”
“For lunch?”
“Why not?”
“Yeah.” She grinned. “Why not?” This might be okay after all. But why the nuclear reaction to her teacher’s name?
As far as first days went, and considering she’d had no sleep and a rocky start, it had been a good one, Katie Sara decided. She laid her head back against the front porch swing, rested the iced tea glass against her forehead, and set the swing rocking with her toe.
Her closed eyes magnified the cadence of late afternoon in the small town. A few houses down the block some boys had a pick-up softball game in progress. From the sounds of it, they might need a referee soon. One of the boys had his dog, Cosmos, with him. Judging from his bark, Cosmos wasn’t some girly dog. He sounded only a tad smaller than an elephant.
Somebody else was cutting his lawn. She breathed deeply, inhaling memories. Both the sound of the mower and the smell of the fresh-cut grass made her smile. She’d missed this in the city.
She moved the tea to her lips, sipped, then opened her eyes and looked around. How lucky she’d been to find this house, despite her second thoughts in the middle of the night after her—encounter—with Reiner.
It was nice to know her neighbors. To be able to call her paperboy by name and know his mom and dad. His grandparents.
Mrs. Jones next door had divided her prized pink-ruffled daylilies yesterday and given her a starter clump as a house-warming gift. She’d planted them reverently to the right of the house where everyone, especially Mrs. Jones, could enjoy their blooms.
Eighty if she was a day, Mrs. Jones was out back in her garden working now, listening to a Frank Sinatra medley that streamed from her open kitchen window. Unless Katie Sara’d missed her guess, the old lady had a pitcher of ice-cold margaritas close at hand to quench her thirst. With her, it didn’t seem to matter which side of noon it was.
Philomena Passarelli and Marge Fisher had filled her in on the Morning Malefactor after she’d rushed onto her porch two mornings in a row to the shockwaves of Eye of the Tiger that vibrated in the air. She had no doubt they’d nab the noisy villain.
Chia sat on the porch, tail curled around him, eyeing a bird high in the magnolia. “Dream on, Walter Mitty. That cardinal has nothing to fear.”
With a sigh, she realized how much she’d missed this. Really missed this.
Daddy, we lost so darned much. What on Earth could have been worth all this to you?
Determined to let it go, she rubbed the furrow from her brow. She couldn’t change what was nor could she regain the lost years. She could, though, relax and enjoy what she had now.
To truly do that, she had to let go of city-ways. No one here in Paradox ever locked his door, yet at night, she still checked hers. Twice. How long, she wondered, would it take to get over that? During the day she did fine, but at night she needed both the doors and the downstairs windows unlocked.
Maybe tonight she’d feel brave enough to open the upstairs windows to the cool night air, scented with Mr. Kennedy’s roses. It seemed almost sacrilegious not to.
Humph. Yeah, well, maybe. Last night there’d been a mangy mutt on the prowl. A dangerous mangy mutt who’d shown up outside her house.
Speaking of... She leaned slightly forward, certain she’d recognize that fire-engine red anywhere, even if it didn’t come with the throaty horsepower.
If it wasn’t old TOP DAWG himself.
She rose and dropped a curtsy as he idled past.
At his muttered curse, Felicity gasped and put a hand over her mouth. “Uncle Reiner!”
“Oh sh—” He blushed. “Sorry, squirt. I forgot. It just sorta slipped out.” Wild-eyed, he turned to her. “Don’t tell Auntie Belham. Promise.”
“I’m not a tattle-tale.”
With his index finger, he slid his sunglasses down his nose and studied her over the top of them.
“I’m not!” she protested. “Jeez! What’s wrong with you, anyway? Wasn’t that Ms. McMichaels? Why’d you swear when you saw her?” Her face screwed up. “And why’d she curtsy?”
“’Cause she’s a smart-ass.”
Felicity’s pierced brow shot up under her bangs.
“Go ahead! Run to Auntie Belham with that one.”
His niece grinned. “No way. It’ll be more fun to ask Ms. McMichaels about it tomorrow.”
Reiner swerved off the road.
Felicity squealed and grabbed the dash, bracing her black-booted feet. “What are you doing? Trying to kill us?”
Stopped haphazardly on the berm, Reiner swiveled toward her. “Do not say anything to Katie Sara about me. Got it?”
Anger swamped him, unwarranted and way out of line. He knew it, yet he couldn’t control it. Great way to start playing daddy.
Instead of cowering, though, his beast of a niece grinned like the proverbial Cheshire cat.
“Do your mom and dad know they’ve birthed a brat?”
“Oh, yeah. Why do you think they were so willing to go fight? Figured it would be a cake-walk after raising me.”
He ruffled her short, flame-colored hair, then tugged at a strand of royal purple woven through it. “How ’bout we run by the post office before we head home and mail those cookies you and Bel baked to your folks? I’ve got them stowed in the back, and brother, have they earned them.”
As he pulled back onto the highway, he caught a glint in those big lavender eyes and knew Felicity wouldn’t give up till she had the whole story.
He was doomed.
Katherine Sara McMichaels and high school. A blink-of-an-eye ago. A lifetime ago.
They’d been opposite ends of a magnet in personality, goals, and focus. Not socially, though, and not even morally, because he’d never done anything really, truly bad.
He pushed the envelope; she defined it.
He drove his parents crazy and made his teachers nuts. Some drinking, driving too fast, blowing curfews, and girls who liked a good time. Black leather and his Harley. Late nights, pool, and loud music.
And then Ace came along. The model student, model daughter, model everything—and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. A couple of the guys dared him to make a move, bet him she wouldn’t give him the time of day.
But they’d been wrong, and he wasn’t sure who’d been the most surprised. Them, him, or her.
He’d taken her out the first time on a dare; the second, third, and fourth because he couldn’t help himself.
He knew he wasn’t good for her. They were headed in opposite directions. But when they were together—holding hands, riding his Harley, or making out in the backseat of his car—it didn’t matter.
Then her old man got himself thrown into the slammer, and everything fell apart.
Last night proved there was still heat, that they could set the town on fire quicker than Mrs. O’Malley’s cow. But Katie Sara was right. They were history. Time to move on.
Maybe that’s what this trip home was meant to teach him. If so, lesson learned.
Damn, he hated school!