This wasn’t Maddie, the Friday afternoon parent volunteer she’d been expecting.
Ryan Connor. It had to be. No one else thumped the snow off their boots quite the way he did. Her teeth clenched, and her eyes narrowed as she looked up from the dinosaur book she’d been reading with five-year-old Jacob.
Small heads swiveled toward the door as all sixteen of her elementary school students ignored the work she’d set before them and waited to see who’d appear. They’d probably figured those heavy steps weren’t Maddie’s, just as fast as she had.
Her volunteer parents were always welcome. In the one-room kindergarten to fifth-grade school, with just one computer, Claire appreciated all the help she could get.
Except Ryan’s. A distraction she did not need. He wasn’t a parent, and he wasn’t welcome.
At least, not by her. The kids, of course, all adored Ryan.
His smiling face appeared at the window beside the door, confirming her guess. His hand circled in a cheery wave. Beneath her heavy braid, the back of her neck prickled as her hackles rose. What was the man doing here?
If he thought he’d help by fixing that award plaque the school just won to the wall, he’d be too late. She’d brought in her electric drill and a screwdriver and had it where she wanted it before the first student arrived this morning.
Ryan meant a bigger problem than an interrupted lesson. With Maddie due here any minute, she’d have to field more knowing grins and matchmaking attempts. This place needed a few more single women. Give the happily-married who wanted everyone paired up two-by-two like Noah’s ark someone else to pair him up with.
Being single at thirty-two was not a crime.
Her gaze strayed from Ryan’s widening grin to the huge evergreen he hauled into view. Huckleberry Lake’s Mr. Fix-It — Mr. Know-It-All, more like — had brought her a Christmas tree.
A tree she didn’t need or want.
As the kids started giggling and clapping, a loud huff escaped her. Trust Ryan to ruin her afternoon. She bristled, prickly as the pine needles.
Forgetting their work and the smattering of classroom discipline she usually enforced, the excited kids jumped up and ran to the window, giggling and chattering as they peered out at the tree.
“Wow, look at that. It’s got to be bigger than the biggest dinosaur. Ryan’s brought us the biggest Christmas tree ever!” Wide-eyed Jacob breathed the words. Unlike most of the class, he hadn’t moved from his seat. But the book they’d been reading may as well be closed for all the attention he paid it.
Looked like she’d have to forget classroom discipline for the rest of the afternoon, too. No matter how much she longed to tell Ryan to take his tree and —
She chopped off the rest of that thought. Hardly a good example for the kids to see their teacher explode, over a Christmas tree of all things. Especially when she taught many of them in Sunday school, too.
Time to clamp the lid down hard on the simmering pot of her temper and wait till she was alone to let loose. She clapped her hands loudly to get the kids’ attention. “Back to your places, everyone. I’ll go see what Ryan wants.”
As if it wasn’t obvious.
With more than a few backward glances and pouts, the children wandered to their seats. Only the most industrious even glanced at their worksheets.
Pasting on a smile, for the kids’ sakes, not Ryan’s, she took her time strolling to the door leading to the cloakroom and porch. Bringing the tree was his idea. Leaving him to stand out there in the cold a little longer wouldn’t hurt.
Everyone else in town loved Ryan. Always ready to extend a hand to anyone in need. Often doing handyman jobs for no charge, though that was how he made his living. Not waiting till asked, but stepping forward to offer.
Sure, some people needed and valued his assistance. The older widowed women used to having a man do certain tasks for them. Not her. Strong, independent, and capable of looking after herself just fine. She’d learned how to get by on her own. No need for any husband and especially not him.
The man irritated her every time they met. Every. Single. Time.
When he was around, she proved the old line about redheads and temper far more often than she liked. For some reason, she’d had her prickles out with him from Day One.
After dragging on her thick padded coat and pulling up the hood, she braced herself, stepped out onto the porch, and closed the door behind her. The least heat that escaped the building, the better. The school’s creaky old furnace didn’t need more strain. If it broke down, she’d have to call on him to repair it.
Strong and independent was one thing, attempting to fix ancient furnaces something else again.
The icy air hit like walking into a freezer. It might be her second December here in Idaho, but this Texas girl still hadn’t acclimatized. Ryan’s bright smile and the way it crinkled the corners of his brown eyes didn’t warm her one bit.
No way. Couldn’t possibly.
Some people might call him handsome, with his dark-chestnut hair, designer stubble, and those laugh lines crinkling his clear, brown eyes. Left her cold.
Some people might admire his community spirit, the way he always pitched in. Not her. She called him a pesky interruption who didn’t know when to butt out.
Some people in Sunset Point didn’t welcome his helpfulness. Okay, so they could be counted on one hand.
Honesty compelled her to admit, counted on one finger.
“What are you doing here with that?” Keeping her voice low so her sharp-eared students wouldn’t overhear, she gestured to the tree. “I’m trying to teach a class.”
Impossible to detect any hint that her lack of welcome dented his annoying cheerfulness. “I was out in the woods today getting a few trees for the folk who can’t cut their own, and I saw this beauty. Just right for the school. The bigger the better for the children, right?”
Gritting her teeth, she prayed for patience. Shame God never answered.
“Not really. I’ve rearranged the classroom this year to make room for the computer workstation, and there won’t be nearly enough space for a tree that size. Besides, I can find and cut my own tree for the school. I had it all planned for this weekend. I didn’t want their schoolwork disrupted until the final week of the term.”
“I know you’re capable of doing it yourself. And I figured you’d do it when you were ready.” His smile faltered, and he audibly swallowed. “I guess… it just felt wrong not to do it, especially when I spotted the perfect tree. Dad and I brought a tree to the school for Mrs. Parks every year, right from before I started kindergarten here.”
Claire closed her eyes and cringed inside. Sure, make her feel an insensitive rat for being angry over his gift of a tree. Only pushing her hands deeper into her coat’s fleece-lined pockets stopped her from acting on her instinctive urge to lay a comforting hand on his arm.
Her gloveless hands truly were cold, after all. It wasn’t an excuse. Not really.
But even with Ryan, she couldn’t ignore the raw grief shadowing his eyes and the knowledge she’d unintentionally made his pain worse.
Though she struggled to find any useful words.
All she knew was what didn’t help. Plenty of experience there.
When she’d battled with her own losses, most people mouthed meaningless platitudes. Having something so big invalidated with pat, easy answers just made her angrier. And then sent her looking to move somewhere no one knew her or knew what happened to her.
Avoiding the subject suited her best. Way best. She shoved her unwanted memories of the accident back into their mental closet and slammed the door shut. Her urge to touch Ryan could go in there, too.
But she still needed to speak, to acknowledge his hurt.
“I’m so sorry, Ryan. You must miss your dad a lot. This time of year can be difficult when you’ve lost someone close to you.”
He loosed a heavy breath. “Yep. I’m praying for Mom to get through the holidays okay. Her first Christm
as as a widow will hit her hard. Thanksgiving was tough enough, but she and Dad always tried to make Christmas extra special.” Then he shook himself, shaking off his grief like a dog shaking off water. “We’ll be fine. Just need to lean on God’s support harder than usual for a while.”
Claire just nodded. She sure hoped God offered them more support than she’d felt her first Christmas after the accident.
Maybe Jeannie and Ryan had stronger faith.
Or maybe it was only her God had on ignore.
“I’m sorry I misjudged in bringing you this.” He hefted the enormous tree and moved to haul it off the porch. “I’m sure to find someone else to take it if you don’t want it.”
“Too late now.” Her lips twisted in a humorless smile as she raised a hand to stop him. “Want it or not, do you really think I can let you take it away now that the kids have seen it? I’ll have a classroom rebellion on my hands.”
A glance behind her showed exactly what she expected. Her students clustered at the window, staring out at the porch. All waiting for her to let him bring the tree in. At least they remembered the rules enough to scurry back to their seats as soon as they realized she could see them just as well as they saw her and Ryan.
He chuckled. “You just might. Okay, lesson learned, teacher. I should have waited and asked, not turned up with the tree. I’m sorry.”
Her smile this time felt far more genuine. Was she really such a sucker for his contrite grin, complete with dimple? Surely not.
Still, she shrugged. “Well, whether for this tree or one I brought in myself, I’d planned on losing a day or two of class decorating the tree with the kids. May as well start now instead of Monday.”
She swung the door open, ready for him to carry the tree in. Good manners insisted she should step forward and help him, but she stood back. If he insisted on bringing a tree this size to the school, he should be the one to deal with it. Besides, the door might swing shut on him if she let it go. That was her excuse, and she’d stick to it.
“Making decorations for the tree and classroom might help keep them out of the worst of their holiday-induced mischief,” he offered as he lifted the tree past her. “Unless kids have changed since I was at school.”
Claire snorted and shut the door. “I doubt they’ve changed that much. The killer combo of sugar overload and excitement can turn even well-behaved students into holy terrors.”
“Well, since messing with your plans today was my fault, I’d better volunteer to stay and help with them.” Why did he have to be so nice, so sincere? Why did he have to love kids just as much as she did, even the difficult ones, and want a huge family of his own?
If he was a kid-hating jerk, things would be so much easier.
With both doors closed, the tiny cloakroom suddenly felt a whole lot smaller. Not even enough space to take their coats off, now. As she edged past him to the inner door, something tightened her chest and caught her breath in her throat.
The sap-rich scent of the huge pine. Had to be that. Not Ryan. Maybe she’d developed a pine allergy. Stranger things had happened.
But when she couldn’t avoid brushing her arm against his while reaching for the door, no ignoring facts. The minimal contact with him made her tingle, not the pine needles.
Same as always. That annoying, uncontrollable reaction she seemed unable to suppress.
The reason she avoided Ryan. Made excuses whenever she could — not often enough — to get out of being paired up with him at community events. And never, ever touched him unless absolutely necessary. She blew out a long irritated breath.
God, if You’re listening, will You please take this stupid attraction thing away? I am not letting myself fall for Ryan Connor. Absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent not!
Chapter 2
Ryan tensed as Claire sidled past him, then paused with one hand on the door to the classroom.
“Just a minute. I need to think about this.” A frown furrowed her smooth forehead. Her green eyes, almost the same deep color as the pine, narrowed as she eyed the tree. Wondering where the tree should go? Or whether he should go?
Nodding, he forced himself to focus on the pine he’d propped against the wall, instead of remembering the brush of her long braid against his bare wrist as she’d turned. Or the touch of her arm on his as she’d reached past him to the door.
Hiding how he felt about her became more difficult every time they met. So much harder to keep acting like she meant nothing more to him than any of the other women here, and pretending he only paired up with her at events needing a partner because he had no more choice about it than she did. As the only two singles older than high-school age and younger than middle-aged in Sunset Point, their choices were simple — stay home or partner with each other.
Seeing they organized half the community events, and were close friends with the organizers of the other half, neither one of them had too much option of sitting out.
They’d sat together at dinners, danced together at weddings, and smiled for the cameras as they did. And in between, she’d sniped at him. For at least six months, he’d wanted to ask her on a real date. But if he was fool enough to ask her, she’d probably tell him she’d rather date a grizzly.
Claire’s thoughtful frown lifted, and she nodded. Looked as if she’d reached a decision on whatever made her hesitate at the classroom door.
“Leave the tree where it is for now, will you? I need to get the class started on some activities before we try finding where in the room it will best fit. I don’t want them underfoot until that tree is safe and secure.” She lifted her chin, eyes brimming with challenge. “At least, I assume you are going to set it up for me, not dump that monster here and run? I’m not even convinced your ‘perfect tree’ will fit into the stand.”
Typical attitude. He didn’t expect her to be any different. The strength of Claire’s allure had a flip side. No one else had such an ability to rile him.
Still, a touch of anger sparked. Her snarky retort was one thing, but did she really imagine he’d leave her to struggle with managing a class full of mischievous kids and manhandling a tree two feet taller than her? A little good-guy credit would be nice.
“The tree will fit. And of course, I planned to stay and set it up for you. Just tell me where the tree stand is and where you want the ‘monster’ to go.” Somehow, he kept his voice level, stopped irritation from seeping into his tone.
It wasn’t easy.
“Thanks.” Her single word almost sounded as if she meant it. Almost.
She opened the door, and he followed her into the classroom.
A lot of changes since he’d gone to school here. A lot of changes in the past fifteen months, too, since Claire replaced Mrs. Parks. She had the same strict, no-nonsense manner as the stern woman who’d taught two generations of Sunset Point children their ABCs and right from wrong. As long as he could remember, Mrs. Parks had been gray-haired, bony, and more than a little terrifying. She still was.
Though Claire was adorably petite, red-haired, and slender yet with feminine curves in all the places he tried not to let his gaze linger on, her bossiness and snark left him little doubt that at times she put the fear of God into this new generation of students, too.
Some of the kids pretended to be busy with their work, but most peered past him, trying to see the tree through the window in the cloakroom door. Goggle-eyed as if they’d never seen a pine before. Not likely, when most of them grew up here, and densely forested mountains surrounded the lake on all sides.
Probably, if Claire hadn’t had her eye on them, they’d be clustering around him, begging for piggyback rides or for him to show them the tree.
Claire clapped her hands to get her students’ attention. “You can put away the work I gave you to do this afternoon.”
None of the kids wasted even a second pretending regret. A relieved sigh echoed around the room.
Claire eyed them, shaking her head a little. “Don’t think that bec
ause this term ends next Friday you’ll get to skip it. We’ll come back to those worksheets on Monday.”
Ignoring the muted groans, she assumed a sunny smile. “As you all saw, Ryan’s been kind enough to provide our class Christmas tree. And it’s such a wonderfully big tree, too. That means I’ll need your help. While Ryan and I set it in its stand, I want you all to make paper chains and ornaments to decorate it. I have everything you need ready, so you can start that now.”
She did? He blinked.
Claire’s bright announcement and the confident way she directed two of the older students to go to the supply closet and fetch the boxes labeled Christmas Craft made it appear as if she’d known all along he’d bring the tree today. Planned for it.
But she couldn’t possibly have known. He hadn’t himself till he saw this tree, so perfect for the school he couldn’t ignore it.
Clearly, she believed in planning and preparation. And clearly, she cared too much for the kids to disappoint them by insisting he take the tree away or letting them guess her initial words to him on the porch had been less than friendly.
She’d given him a brief glimpse of her softer side when he mentioned Dad. The sweet, caring, and very appealing woman who shone out of her tough exterior now and then.
Most of the time, Claire stayed pricklier than a porcupine, stubborner than a mule, and opinionated to boot. Unwilling to accept help from anyone, especially him. Never missing a chance to needle him.
Even so, she’d come to mean far more than he imagined possible when they first met. Far more than any other woman he’d known had ever meant.
Problem was, she obviously didn’t feel the same for him.
He had a habit of choosing the wrong women. The ones who saw him as nothing more than a nice guy and a friend.
Until she gave signs she returned his feelings, he’d keep on making sure she didn’t guess. And he’d keep praying no other single guys or single women the right age moved to Sunset Point. Then they’d still be each other’s only option when a local event needed everyone partnered up.
Come to the Lake Page 25
