Sorry, parents. I might’ve doped your kid with extra sugar, but just wait until Valentine’s Day.
My spirits sink a bit at that. I’ll be in another classroom for the next holiday. Will they miss me? I roll my eyes with an internal scolding. These are days for celebration—not moping.
I shift my focus to the rowdy youngsters, who appear seconds away from climbing the walls. My students are typically very well-mannered. This rare display of defiance, short as it might be, makes me smile. The Christmas season is cause for added flair—frosted snacks and glittery crafts included—but wrangling their attention at this point in the afternoon is more complicated than roping a rocking cow, which doesn’t even move.
I clap three times, loud enough for the sound to carry above their mayhem. “Children, we need to meet for circle. The bell will ring soon.”
That gets their attention, and they stampede toward me in a thunderous formation that pounds the floor. Infectious energy and shimmering glee waft off them as they crash onto the carpet in front of my chair.
“It’s been so much fun celebrating with you all. We won’t see each other until next year.” I grin as the hidden meaning registers in their wide eyes. “I hope you all have a wonderful break—”
“Aren’t you gonna open the bag I gave you? My dad said you’d like a new mug,” Kurtis blurts.
My desk is overflowing with presents and cards. Apparently, Bampton Elementary teachers get spoiled rotten by their students. More perks for this gig appear each morning. It’s another thing I’ll miss. I give myself an imaginary kick to the shin. There I go again. Before I get caught in the wallowing, more voices chime in.
Polly bobs her blond curls. “Uh-huh, yeah. I helped my mama knit a scarf for you. It’s in that sparkle paper.”
“Oh, oh. Mine too.” Tallie seems to shimmy without really moving.
“The one in that blue envelope is from me. It’s a gift card for Target!” Danny shouts.
Well, there goes the mystery. I laugh at their exuberance, inhaling a potent whiff of holly and jolly. “Thank you so much, kiddos. You’re all very generous. I’ll love each special gift and will open them later.”
A unified groan rolls off the group in a wave.
“It’s almost dismissal. Otherwise I would rip into them right now,” I assure.
“Uncle Ree gives the best gifts, Miss Griffin.” Gabby’s smile curls with secret knowledge. I suck in a breath, waiting for her to spill the beans. To my relief, her concentration matches her age, so something sparkly takes sudden priority. I almost wipe my brow. She’s been better than expected at keeping my little rendezvous with her uncle under wraps. If only I could say the same about myself.
The past three weeks have flown in a fuzzy pattern of never-ever dates, sex, laughter, and trying like hell not to fall for Reeve. That last one has been a real bitch, and I’m failing miserably. I’m holding onto faith that a bit of distance will allow me to clear my mind. One thing is for certain—we cannot continue on without amending our deal.
I rock backward in the chair and grin at my students. “Three minutes left before you’re released. Remember to be good listeners so you don’t get coal in your shoe.”
Trent giggles. “That was a funny lesson, Miss Griffin.”
We studied different traditions throughout the weeks of December. I got a little creative with certain activities. “It certainly was. Do as you’re told, and good luck will be there instead.”
“Yes, Miss Griffin.” The entire class drones the phrase on autopilot.
I can’t stop a giggle from spilling at their response. Sometimes they make me feel like a headmaster in the nineteen sixties. I bet headmasters then weren’t nearly as fun, though.
The bell screeches a second later, and the race is on.
“Bye, everyone.” I stand and follow the flow of traffic.
The students are a blur, scrambling to gather their backpacks and winter gear. It’s so loud for approximately two minutes that my ears ring once they’re gone and the room is silent.
Since it’s Friday, I don’t have plans to stick around longer than necessary. I leave tomorrow for Minneapolis, blizzard or not. Being away from Reeve for ten days will suck, but I’m looking forward to going home. Double-edged sword and all that. But I have nothing on my radar for this evening, not officially at least. I hope a certain corn farmer is free to make plans.
I begin the process of gathering my supplies for the extended break. Since I’ve managed to accumulate quite a collection, my stash requires two bags and a jumbo box. It seems that several trips to the car are in my future. Just as I pack the final objects, someone knocks on my door.
“Hey, babe.” That gritty drawl has a shudder racking my body.
I turn to see Reeve leaning against the frame in a pair of faded jeans and a flannel jacket. He looks hot enough to engulf this entire building in flames. Maybe I should have a fire extinguisher on standby just in case. “Hi, farmer. I wasn’t sure I’d see you tonight.”
He stalks toward me, a man on a mission. “Why wouldn’t you be?”
“Maybe you had something else to do.” I rattle off the phrase as a statement, but a questioning lilt raises my voice.
“Are you still okay with this?” Reeve loops an arm around my waist and tugs me into him. His addictive hugs send a warm surge through my veins, which doesn’t make this situation easier.
I press my ear to his chest, listening as the thumping beats pound harder. This could be the moment I come clean.
