Still Not Over You(83)
“We're good, Oscar. I'm her escort,” Brent says. “Did you search him for a key fob?”
Oscar’s face falls as he shakes his head. “No, sir, but I’ll make a full report of the security breach. As you know, the academy takes security very seriously.”
Brent turns to me. “Could he have gotten your key fob?”
“No. It’s right here.” I pull the badge around my neck out of the top of my shirt. My I.D. card and the key fob dangle off the end. “It hasn’t been out of my sight since I got it two weeks ago. Jesus. This doesn't make any sense...”
Brent nods, turning back to Oscar. “I suggest you find out who lost a key fob recently and make everyone aware what Preston Graves looks like. Make sure they understand he's not allowed on the premises.”
Oscar nods. “Of course, sir, I'll do that. I'll stay late. Get the report in the system before I leave.”
A million questions race through my mind, but I hold them until after we walk outside. The heat still coming off the nighttime pavement makes me want to fan myself. We're off high summer, the hottest time of year, but not to the point where the nights are really comfortable.
Once we're walking down the long concrete walkway leading to the parking lot, I ask another question I've been holding in. “So, uh, Mr. Eden...are you a detective? A cop, maybe?”
“No.”
“He works with cops all the time,” Natalie says. “He owns his own company.”
I wait for either one of them to add more, but they don’t, and I’m too tongue tied to keep probing. Or too scared.
Though he came to my rescue, gave me the hottest, most memorable kiss of my life, there are red flags popping up all over. This whole thing is bad news.
He’s a student’s father. The academy has rules against teacher-family relationships. Pages upon pages of ironclad rules. As the most elite private academy in the county, the wait list to become a student, or to get a job here, is as long as Route 66.
Landing this preschool position was pure luck. Same as the very part-time accelerated art class I'm filling in for.
I can’t fuck it up. Cannot. Will not.
Not even for drop dead sexy men with beast eyes and beards who kiss like they mean business.
“That your car?” Brent asks.
Lost in thought, I glance up, nodding. Classic Mustang convertible. Old. Not at all what anyone would expect a teacher to drive. “It was my dad’s.”
He doesn’t respond physically or verbally, just keeps walking. At the car, he opens the door and looks inside before stepping aside.
“You should lock your doors.”
“I usually do.” I’d been running late, trying to get back in time for the evening class and hadn’t, but won’t make that mistake again. I take my bag from him and pull out the keys, then put the carry-all and my sketchpad in the backseat. I make sure to include Natalie as I say, “Thank you both. For everything.”
“Nah, it was our pleasure, Ms. Derby!” Natalie talks like she’s forty instead of ten. I smile like mad. She steps forward and wraps her arms around my middle. “Please don't be embarrassed. We were really happy to help tonight.”
Something inside me flutters as I hug her back. It's not everyday you run into good people.
Our hug ends, and as she steps away, she twists to look at her father. “Weren’t we, Daddy? Happy to help Ms. Derby?”
The transformation on his face happens again. “Yes, baby girl,” he says. “Thrilled.” His smile fades as he looks at me. “Our truck's right over there. We’ll wait until you drive away. Unless you want us to follow you home?”
“No!” I flinch at my immediate response. “I mean, that's totally okay. You’ve already done more than enough. Much more. Thank you.”
Completely unsure what to do, I take a step forward, but pause, not sure if I should shake his hand, or, well, hug him. Some crazy part of me shouts hug.
Fine. I step forward and give him a quick thank you squeeze.
His statue stiffness tells me I should've went with hand shake.
Crap.
I really am an idiot. But it's not like I have experience handling gorgeous men who pretend-kiss like it's the end of the world.
“Goodnight, guys!” I spin around and jump in my car, slamming the door shut, before I make this more awkward.
I wait until they turn around to walk across the three parking spaces between his truck and my car before leaning my forehead against the steering wheel. Mortification overwhelms me.
Heat does, too. Inside and out. It’s been a brutal summer. Hot and windy, the autumn break can’t come soon enough. Southern Arizona isn't a humid place, but the dry, hundred degree plus days wear on a body and soul.
I crank the window for fresh air and glance out the opening. There's a car rumbling up beside mine. Not Brent and Natalie's.
My heart leaps in my throat, but then slides back down where it belongs when I realize who it is.
Clara. Damn!
After everything went haywire tonight, I spaced on our plans to meet here so she could drop off one of her famous pies.
It's too late to stop the chain reaction. I see Brent gesturing furiously at Natalie to get in his truck as he starts walking back towards me. Opening the door, I climb out, hands in front of me. “Whoa, whoa, it’s okay! Nothing scary. This is just my cousin, Clara.”