two women who walked by. “I’ve
seen that. My son is reserved. I need a teacher who understands he
may not be so outgoing. I need one”—his gaze raked her, again, she
wasn’t sure it was professional—“who will nurture and not
bully.”
She bristled on behalf of her town and the school
she taught at. “I understand your concern, sir, but I can vouch for
all the teachers here. None would bully your son.”
He blinked at her, unimpressed by her hardened tone.
“I want you.”
Beyond him, Traci Watson, the other second grade
teacher, stood in the doorway.
“I’m not saying I won’t teach him. I’m saying
Cottonwood Falls Elementary has a stellar staff of teachers. If
he’s on my list for class, then he will get as much from me as the
rest in my class.”
Traci lifted her eyebrows, and London gave her a
small headshake, not pulling her attention from the man before
her.
“You’re feisty,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t like slanders
against my school or the teachers I’ve worked with for years.”
“We are entitled our feelings. Bottom line, I want
him in your class.”
“And, as you can see, Mr. Cuyper, he’s been given a
desk.” Her smile felt brittle. “Anything else I can do for
you?”
He dragged that green gaze over her once more. “Not
at the moment. I’ll take a look around and gather the sheets I
need.”
She pushed to her feet. “Great. I’m around if you
need anything else.”
More heat flashed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She moved by him and mingled with the people in her
room. Traci approached her and touched her arm.
“What’s going on? He took his kid from my class and
put him in yours.”
“I don’t know, Traci. He wouldn’t tell me anything
more than that’s where he wanted him.”
“I was hoping to get to know daddy a bit more this
year, if you catch my meaning. You’re so lucky.”
London caught it, but she wasn’t so optimistic.
Piers stood back, observing the entire room as his
son sat at what would be his desk in his new class. The young boy
who London had called Dilbert chatted easily by Javier. If his
son’s subdued answering bothered him, Dilbert made no show of it.
Piers wanted to get home, but his son was engaging another child,
and he wasn’t going to stop the exchange.
Women—mothers—went by, sending deliberate
flirtatious glances in his direction. Looks he ignored. There was
one woman in this town who’d snared his attention. His son’s new
teacher, London Rhymes.
Allowing his gaze to drift from his child to London,
he experienced the same stirring he had the first time he’d seen
her. It hadn’t been in any romantic setting, slow motion, or at
some fancy restaurant with her all dressed up. Nope, his first
sighting of her had happened in the grocery store.
He couldn’t even say it had been in the produce
section with her touching fruit or vegetables. She’d been standing
in the cracker aisle, her long toned legs reaching from below a
pair of green shorts. Her gray shirt had members of the Justice
League on it with the phrase “Get Some Action” surrounding the
image. On her feet, she’d had on black sandals.
Something long dead in him had stirred from his
first glance. But, when she’d turned a blinding smile on the child
who had run up to her calling out “Ms. London”, his heart had
tripped. More than once. She’d dropped instantly to one knee to hug
the child, uncaring or oblivious to the yogurt that found its way
down her shirt.
He’d stayed there, listening as she laughed and
chatted with the family who came to get their child. How she’d
continually waved off their concern for her clothing. Her response
had been it would wash out and there wasn’t anything to worry
about. He’d learned, then, she was a teacher in the elementary
school and decided right then and there she would be teaching
Javier. She hadn’t been in school, and she’d still taken the time
to interact with the
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