Virtuous(32)

I wink and wave to Logan as he heads out. “See you soon.”

His smile is so wide, I worry about his face breaking as he scurries out of the room. I follow the kids, as I always do, to watch them get on buses or be signed out by the parents, grandparents and guardians who pick them up.

I spend the next thirty minutes cleaning my classroom and preparing for tomorrow, while trying not to think about what’s about to happen. At exactly three thirty, I run a brush through my hair, apply lip gloss and put on my red wool coat that leaves only a small portion of my tights uncovered between the coat and knee-high leather boots. I’ll confess to having dressed for him today, not that it will matter. After he does this enormous favor for me, I don’t expect to ever see him again. I tell myself I’m fine with that.

Slinging my satchel filled with work I’ll do at home later over my shoulder, I head out of school, nodding to a few of my colleagues who I encounter in the hallway. I haven’t heard a word about Flynn all day today thanks to the unfolding scandal involving Mrs. Heffernan’s husband that has everyone’s attention. While I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, she was nasty to me about Fluff, so there’s no love lost between us.

The cold air hits me like a slap to the face as I emerge from the building and head down the stone steps, looking around for him as I go but careful not to trip over my own feet. I stop short when I see him, across the street, arms crossed as he leans against the red motorcycle I saw the other night in his garage.

He’s wearing a black leather jacket and well-faded jeans. His face is red from the cold and his hair mussed, maybe from the helmet that’s propped on the seat next to him. He’s stunningly gorgeous, and I can’t do anything but stare at him for what feels like five minutes, though it’s probably much less than that. At least I hope so.

He stares right back, his expression unreadable as I finally snap out of it and cross the street to where he’s parked.

“Hi.” Wow, Natalie… Way to bowl him over with your opening volley.

“Hi there. You look beautiful as always.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”

He offers a small smile that’s tinged with sadness that wasn’t there Saturday night. It makes me desperate to know what he’s thinking and why he didn’t call me. I was so sure he would.

“It’s really nice of you to do this for someone you don’t even know.”

His intense gaze devours me. “I’m doing it for someone I know.”

His meaning isn’t lost on me, and if I wasn’t so breathless from being near him, I might’ve acknowledged it.

“So where are we going?”

I give him the address a few blocks away.

“Hop on. I’ll give you a lift.”

I eye the motorcycle with trepidation. I’ve never been on one, and I’m not even sure how to get on, especially while wearing a skirt. “I’m, um, not really dressed for a motorcycle.”

“You’ll be fine. No one will see a thing.”

Before I can formulate further protest, he’s putting the helmet on me, straddling the bike and holding out his hand to help me get on behind him. I guess I’m going for my first ride on a motorcycle. Too bad it’s freezing out and I won’t be able to truly enjoy it. I want to ask about a helmet for him, but before I can pose the question, the bike roars to life and we take off like a shot.

I have no choice but to hold on tight to him if I want to survive this—not that holding on tight to him is any sort of imposition. I expect to be cold and uncomfortable, but I’m neither of those things. Rather, I’m exhilarated and thrilled to be pressed up against him for the all too short ride to the Giffords’ home.

Flynn pulls right up to the building and squeezes the bike into a parking space on the street. He gets off the bike and then helps me with the helmet.

He studies me intently, but then I’ve come to expect that from him.

“Did I say thank you for this?”

“A few times.”

“Is it okay to say it again?”

“Sure.”

“I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. She’s an amazing person, a single mom fighting an awful battle. Her son, Logan, is in my class and he told me you’re her favorite.”

“How did he find out you know me?”

“Um, well, yesterday, the whole school was talking about how I met you over the weekend.”