“High school?”
“Principal Woodnut mentioned you used to teach high school, but then decided to be an elementary school teacher. That’s why she asked me to help you. She figured you might feel a little overwhelmed at first by how different this age group is compared to what you’re used to.”
Well, isn’t Principal Woodnut the crafty one?
“Right. But I’ll admit I like this age. They’re fun, and they ask the funniest questions.” All the truth.
They also asked questions that thank Christ Chloe didn’t witness, like “Why do I have a penis but my sister doesn’t?” and “Where do babies come from?” and “What does intercourse mean?”
Seriously, what kid knows the word “intercourse”?
“So, what about you?” Chloe asks, looking adorably sexy with her rosy cheeks and the end of her nose pink. Her hands are hidden in her coat pockets. “Do you have any pets? I never had the chance to ask you before you had to go to your classroom this morning.”
“I kind of have a puppy.”
“How do you kind of have a puppy? Does your wife or girlfriend half own it or something?”
“Nope. I’m single.” I slide a glance at her to check her reaction and catch her studying me. She shakes her head as if mentally answering a question I’m not privy to. “I found the puppy outside my town house yesterday morning and took him to the vet because he was injured.”
She gasps, and her eyes fill with concern. Like she wants to march down to the clinic and give the puppy lots of hugs. “Will he be all right?”
“He should be. So now I’m looking for a home for him. You don’t by any chance know anyone who would like a dog, do you?”
“Sorry. I wish I did. You could ask the staff here. They might know of someone.”
“I’ll do that, thanks.”
“Is he staying with you while you find him a new home?”
It would seem so. The clinic called last night to let me know that there are currently no foster homes available to take him in until a forever home can be found.
“I’m picking him up at the clinic after work.”
Chloe looks at me as if I’m her hero. Guess she must really love animals.
“What kind of dog is he?” she asks.
I show her the photo on my phone.
“Oh, God, he’s so cute. What’s his name?”
“He never mentioned it to me. Maybe he told the vet technicians.” The corner of my mouth slides up to one side.
“You have to give him a name. You can’t just call him The Puppy. It might give him a complex later on.”
I study her for a second. Hell if I know what to call him. The Puppy works for me.
Several boys run past us, chasing each other and laughing. One of them tags his friend and yells, “You’re it.”
“Any suggestions on what I should call him?” I ask her.
She takes my phone from me and studies the picture for a moment. Her light floral scent teases me briefly before she leans away again. Something inside me stirs. I ignore it, unable to put a name to it.
They say some pets look a lot like their owners. I don’t know how much truth there is to that. Jayden and his dog don’t bear much resemblance to each other. Plus, Mojo is more on the lazy side. The same can’t be said about Jayden.
When it comes to Chloe’s hair color, she and the puppy have that in common.
But that’s where the similarities between them end. The puppy is…well, he’s just a puppy. Chloe is sexy as all hell.
But not sexy like the women I’ve been known to hook up with in the past. Those women were more blatant with their sex appeal.
Chloe is sexy in a sweet, wholesome way.
And that thought reminds me exactly why I’m here, in the playground, watching kids during recess.
I’m supposed to be her boyfriend—the man who’s going to protect her sexy ass. The man who’s charged with discovering where her cousin is hiding so the Feds can finally nail his sorry ass to the wall.
“Whiskey. That’s what I think you should call him.”
A barked laugh erupts from my lungs. “You think I should name him after an alcoholic beverage?”
“Sure, why not? The color of his coat reminds me of a glass of whiskey. I mean, you can call him Jack or Daniel, but Whiskey sounds cuter…and he’s definitely a cute puppy.”
“Do you like whiskey?” She looks more like a wine drinker to me. A wine drinker who owns a winery she might not know about.
“Can’t say I’ve ever had it. But the elderly gentlemen where I volunteer have hinted quite loudly that they would love it if I sneaked some in for them.” She grins. “Anyway, it seems like the perfect name.”
“Okay, Whiskey it is.” Because it’s not like the little dude will be with me for long, so I don’t really care one way or another what he’s called.
After recess, I spend the morning playing math games with the kids. This is followed by them working on their math coloring pages while I walk around checking on how they’re doing.
“Does anyone have any questions?” I ask at one point when some of them start to get restless, squirming in their seats like they’re sitting on an ant nest.
Wrong thing to inquire.
“Have you kissed a frog?” Jessica asks. “My sister told me if you kiss a frog, it turns into a prince.”
“Nah ah,” Kathleen says, shaking her head so fast I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets whiplash. “If he kisses a frog, it’ll turn into a princess ’cuz he’s a man.”
Twenty-five pairs of curious eyes turn my way. “Is that true?” Ryan asks. “If you kiss a frog, it’ll turn into a girl frog?”
“A princess,” Kathleen corrects.
“Same thing,” Ryan retorts.
“No, it isn’t,” Pigtails—officially known as Patty—says. “Princesses live in big palaces.” She stretches her arms out wide, demonstrating how big these palaces are, and almost pokes Ryan in the eye.
“Good point,” I say because I assume that’s true. The girls here probably know a helluva lot more about princesses and royalty than I’ll ever care to know.
“Have you kissed a frog?” Jessica asks me again.
“Can’t say I have or that it’s on the agenda.”
Twenty-five heads nod, apparently satisfied with the answer.
Until…
“Why haven’t you kissed a frog?” she asks.
“I’m selective of who I kiss. You can’t just go around kissing anyone.” That’s pretty close to the truth.
I haven’t kissed everyone.
But I have kissed a fair number of women over the years—and that’s not including the girls horny teenager-me kissed after I discovered the joys of the opposite sex.
“Now, let me rephrase my earlier question. Does anyone have any questions about math?”
Ryan’s hand shoots up. I nod for him to ask it.
“What is one million and ninety-eight times fifty-five?”
“That wasn’t the kind of question I had in mind. Any questions about the coloring page you’re working on?”
Note to self: Be as specific as possible when asking the kids a question.
The bell rings, announcing lunchtime. I direct the kids to get their lunch bags and return to their tables to eat their food.
Chloe pokes her head into the classroom. “How’s it going so far?”
“Good.”
The kids are still alive anyway, and they’re not hanging from the lights.
Whether they’ve actually learned anything remains up for debate.
But that’s really none of my concern.
My only concern is the woman standing in front of me and her deadly excuse of a cousin.
“They’ll eat inside for fifteen minutes, and then Tracy will take them outside to play for the rest of the lunch break. That’s when we’ll get to take our break in the lunchroom.”
With that, Chloe disappears back into her classroom.
And
I contemplate how to get to Step B—asking her out on a date.
6
Chloe
“I’ve got a sticky dilemma,” I tell Ava and Kiera as I enter the staff room with Landon behind me.
Several other teachers eating lunch look up from the other end of the long table. They smile at me and return to their conversation. Outside the closed window, excited kiddie shrieks and laughter leak in from the playground.
“Did Joey dump glue in his hair again?” Kiera asks.
Landon and I take a seat across from them.
“Thank God, no.” Trying to get it out was a nightmare enough as it was, but that was nothing compared to when his mom saw the mess. Let’s just say it took me several days to get over the hissy fit she threw when she came in to see me the next morning. “This is possibly worse.”
“What could be worse than that?”
While we eat our food, I tell them about the canceled Christmas concert at the seniors’ residence and about my plan, and that I have to get Tabitha’s approval if I want my class to perform for the seniors.
“I take that back,” Kiera says. “That is worse than Joey dumping glue in his hair.”
“It would help if Tabitha at least liked me. Then it probably wouldn’t be an issue. For some reason, she acts like I’m poison ivy.”
“You know why, don’t you?” Ava says.
I shake my head.
“She caught her husband masturbating to your photo. She kicked his sorry ass to the curb and divorced him.” Well, that’s beyond disturbing.
“Seriously, how did I get so lucky when it comes to the men in my life? Is it any wonder I want to stay single? I should just join a nunnery.”
Ava’s gaze darts to Landon as Kiera says, “I think you might have to be Catholic to become a nun.”
“Good point.”
Dear Mom, I mentally write in a letter that will never be sent.
Why couldn’t we have at least been Catholic? That might have made my life somewhat easier.
Miss you greatly,
Chloe
“You really want to remain single for the rest of your life?” Ava asks.
“Given my history with men, that’s probably a smart thing to do. It’s not like they stick around forever.” I give Kiera a sad smile. “Sorry.”
She shrugs and gives me an it’s-okay smile that’s weak at best. Her husband died last December in a skiing accident. She understands firsthand about the lack of forever.
“Yes, your boyfriend ghosted you and then dumped you via text,” Ava says, “but that doesn’t mean you should give up on love.”
I laugh—not because what he did was particularly funny, but because… “I bet you didn’t expect to spend your lunch listening to girl talk on your first day of teaching kindergarten,” I say to Landon.
“I have two sisters. I’m used to it.”
“I don’t think staying single for the rest of my life is a bad thing,” I say to Ava. “Think of everything I can accomplish without having to worry if I’m doing something to scare the man away. And I can spend more time on my art.”
“You draw?” Landon asks and continues to devour his sandwich.
“I have an art degree, which is why I love art time with the kids.” And because I really don’t want to talk about my love life, I say, “Speaking of dogs, you have to see the picture of Landon’s puppy.”
Ava’s eyes widen. “You have a puppy?”
“Technically, I’m just his foster parent until I find him a new home.”
“Show them the picture of him. He’s absolutely adorable,” I tell Kiera and Ava.
Landon pulls up Whiskey’s photo on his phone and hands it to Ava.
“Ohmigod, he is adorable.” She passes the phone to Kiera, who also gushes over the puppy.
“So, what are you gonna do about Tabitha?” Kiera asks as I sneak another peek at Whiskey while she hands the phone back to Landon.
“Good question. Do any of you have any suggestions? Maybe I could send her on an all-expense-paid trip to the Bahamas.” I’m kidding, but given what Ava told me, even that might not be enough in Tabitha’s eyes after what her husband did.
Even though that had nothing to do with me.
It was all on him.
Kiera smiles sweetly at Landon, flashing her dimples. “Maybe you could seduce her into granting her permission for the Christmas show. You know, take one for the team.”
I beam at him. “Oh, that’s a great idea. You’re hot. She’s bound to say yes if you ask her.”
One of his eyebrows raises. “You think I’m hot?”
I wave off his comment and pick up a cherry tomato from my salad. “Of course. We all do, right?” The last part is directed at Kiera and Ava.
“She does make a good point,” Kiera says. Ava doesn’t say anything, but the corners of her mouth twitch with barely contained mirth.
Of course, she won’t say anything. She’s in love with her husband. In her mind, everyone pales in comparison to Liam.
And pretty much in reality, too.
The man is damn hot.
Just not as hot as Landon, but I’m not admitting that to anyone. They might get the wrong idea.
“And once you’ve seduced her into giving me permission to do the show,” I say, “I’ll arrange everything. Zoe is the one who usually organizes the school concerts and performances, but since she’s on maternity leave, that falls on me.”
Somehow I keep my voice even, not a hint of panic coloring my tone.
Perhaps there’s an actress inside me, after all.
Way, way, way deep inside me.
“I can help you with the concert part,” Landon says.
“Do you know anything about organizing performances?” Hope swirls inside me like a chocolate-and-vanilla soft serve ice cream.
“Not exactly, but I’m willing to do whatever I can to help you.”
“And that includes the seduction of Tabitha?” I flash him what I hope are convincing puppy dog eyes, channeling the ones in Whiskey’s photo.
“I don’t seduce women I don’t want to be with.”
“Even if it’s for a great cause?”
“Not even for that.”
“How about a little harmless flirting? Just pour on that natural charm you have going for you. You don’t have to seduce her. Flatter her a little, and she’ll be more than happy to oblige your requests.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch Ava cringing.
“You look like you work out regularly,” Kiera says.
Landon nods. “That’s right.”
He’s wearing a button-up shirt, but it’s clear from the way it fits his body, he’s in great shape. His exposed muscular forearms confirm that, too.
“Then, I suggest you remove your shirt while talking to her.” Kiera waves her empty fork at him. “That’s bound to work. Just don’t be obvious about it—that way she won’t get the wrong idea.”
Ava covers her mouth with her hand as though she’s trying to hold back a laugh. The corners of her eyes crinkle, giving it away.
“Can’t you just ask her?” he says. “She might surprise you. Tell her exactly why you want to do the concert. How can she say no?”
“Do you not remember the part about why she hates me? It’s not like I can even apologize for what happened. I didn’t do anything to encourage him. I’ve never even met her ex-husband.”
“Okay, I’ll ask her, but I’m not seducing her, and I’m not removing my shirt.” He directs the last part to Kiera, and I grin.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And the seniors thank you, too.” I’m so giddy with excitement, I’m practically bouncing in my chair. “And if there’s anything you need help with, just ask me.” It’s the least I can do.
“I wouldn’t mind getting more pointers about working with elementary school kids. And we should talk about the production sooner rather than later.”
“I can definitely do that.”
“I have t
o pick Whiskey up at the vet after school—”
“Chloe can go with you,” Ava says. “And you can talk about all those things afterward.”
Landon unfolds himself from his chair and gathers up his empty lunch containers. “Sounds like a plan. And then I can make you dinner.”
He strides from the staff room before I can respond.
“What the hell just happened?” My head feels like it’s spinning after the abrupt turnaround of that conversation.
Kiera grins. “I believe you got yourself a date with the hot teacher.”
7
Landon
Well, that was easier than expected.
Several hours later, I’m still thinking that as the final bell rings.
I don’t mean that being a teacher is easier than I’d expected. Because it isn’t. And anyone who says otherwise is an asshole.
I have a whole new respect for kindergarten teachers. I probably owe mine a huge apology—if she’s still alive.
What I hadn’t been expecting was how easy it was to get Chloe to agree to go out on a date with me, especially after she made it clear she wants to stay single.
“Oh boy, what happened in here?” Chloe asks after the last of the kids are skipping down the hallway to the front entrance.
She surveys the damage, then picks up a picture book from the floor and heads to the bookshelves in the corner. “A hint for tomorrow…get them to start tidying up about thirty minutes before the end of class. And if they’re finished in time, they get to listen to a story. The longer they take to clean up, the less time there is for the story.”
“Great advice. Thanks.”
“How about I put away the books, and you can clean up the art supplies?”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
I gather the plastic plates from the tables and carry them to the sink. Fifteen minutes later, everything is back where it belongs.
“How long have you been teaching?” I ask Chloe as we walk to the staff parking lot. The cool wind tumbles dried leaves across the ground.
“About five years. I got my art degree, but then I realized I didn’t want to be a starving artist. So I returned to school for my teaching certificate, and the rest is history.”
Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2) Page 4
