Fixer-Upper (Spinning Hills Romance 3)

by Ines Saint

  Marissa’s jaw dropped. What in the world was Johnny Amador doing at her classroom door? “Who told you I work here?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest and voicing the first thought that came to her mind.

  “Why would anyone tell me you work here?” he asked, sounding as if he was completely floored to see her. In fact, the more he looked at her, the more stunned he seemed, tilting his head this way and that, as if he was studying something bizarre.

  She dropped her hands to her sides. “I—I don’t know. My family is so mad at you over what happened Saturday night, when I saw you standing there I thought you came by to try to get me to understand. Or something like that,” she babbled. Something about the encounter felt surreal and she was struggling to get her bearings. Though they’d seen each other around town a few times, they hadn’t interacted in years. She gave her head a quick shake. “Let’s start over. What are you doing here?”

  “I start my internship in school psychology today,” he explained, still looking and sounding dazed.

  “You’re the new school psychologist?” she asked, feeling dumbfounded. She’d heard Marty talking about what Johnny had been up to over the years, and she’d wondered about it, but seeing him here, actually picturing Johnny Amador working with kids . . . Well, it made sense. She hadn’t expected that. She closed her eyes and took a quick, stabilizing breath before letting it out. “I’m sorry.”

  Johnny’s gaze flitted about the classroom. “I take it you’re the ESL teacher?” He asked, and waited for her to nod before meeting her eyes with a solemn look. “I suspect we have similar reasons for being here, Marissa, and it looks like we’ll be working together, with kids who’ll look to us to set an example. Let’s try to get off on the right foot. It might help if we clear the air.”

  He sounded so sincere and levelheaded. Marissa’s thoughts went ’round and ’round for a moment as she wrapped her head around the fact that he was right. They were probably both there for the same reason, influenced by the same event in their past. Painful memories threatened to surface and, with effort, she tamped them down. Why did she have to be reminded of them, in this way, on her very first day? She blew out a breath. It didn’t matter. Students would be walking through her door any minute. “You’re right. I guess.”

  “You guess?” He cocked an eyebrow and grinned. The combination took her back to a time when she’d thought him the kindest, funniest, most gentle soul in the world. He’d also been the most misguided. They’d both been misguided.

  “Okay. You’re right. We’ll be working together. It would probably help if we clear the air.” She glanced at the clock. “What happened with Melinda?”

  Marissa had been too busy with her last-minute job offer to understand her mom’s winding, rewinding, and fast-forwarding explanation, but it was something about Johnny seeing Melinda, falling instantly in love, gallantly asking Abuela Rosa and Marty for permission to ask her out, and then saying he was wrong about her in front of a huge crowd of people, including her friends and frenemies, after only talking to her for two minutes.

  Melinda was in a fragile place. It was the last thing she’d needed.

  Johnny looked away and for one revealing moment, he looked like a lost little boy. But he quickly regained his confident demeanor and fixed her with a steady, serious gaze. “That’s not what I meant. We need to talk about what happened with Ana Maria first.”

  Marissa didn’t want to talk about that. Not now. Maybe not ever. “We don’t have time to get into that. Let’s start with the immediate past.” She sincerely hoped he had a good explanation. Working closely with someone who had humiliated her little sister would be difficult. “What made you so sure you were into Melinda that you would involve so many people, only to blow her off in front of those very same people after talking to her for only a couple of minutes? It doesn’t make sense.” She looked at him as she spoke, but the intense, searching way he was watching her made her stomach feel funny.

  He spoke in a slow, measured way as if every single word mattered. “I met a woman at a masquerade party last year and I was convinced it was Melinda. I told Marty and Rosa I wanted to ask her out—to see if we were as compatible as I’d thought we were that night—but the whole thing took on a life of its own and got way out of hand. I realized it was a mistake, and I know Melinda realized it, too, but she was acting strange, and Marty blew up.”

  Stunned at the mention of the masquerade party, Marissa’s eyes flickered to the floor as she tried to push her own memories of that night aside. Revisiting those moments always left her feeling confused and uncomfortable. She focused her mind on what Johnny was saying. She remembered Melinda had gone off with a stranger that night and Marissa had caught them making out, heavily, after she’d gotten off the elevator. Had Johnny been that stranger? She glared up at him. “No wonder Melinda was hurt. Nobody wants to think they’re good enough to be groped, but not good enough to talk to!”

  “Groped?” Johnny repeated, glowering at her.

  “Yes. Groped. I saw you. You’re the troll I caught her making out with on that dark stairwell—”

  “Wrong.” Johnny took a step toward her. His voice and demeanor were calm, but the angry flash in his hazel eyes silenced her. “I’m the prince you made out with in the elevator.” He turned and left, leaving her unable to move, think, or breathe.

  Her heart slowed to a thump. She took a breath. And then another. Her eyes flitted about, trying to find something to cling to. The serene green-gray walls, the stenciled tree, snowflakes, and leaves, the huge map and clock. She’d painted, stenciled, and hung everything herself in just one day. It was to be a haven for her students.

  The minute hand on the large rusted metal clock she’d thought so enchanting now served as a warning. She had only a few minutes to get it together. But her thoughts and feelings were too scattered to easily gather, and too powerful to brush aside.

  That night in the elevator had been special to her. A moment to feel impossibly and illogically as one with someone else. She’d never told anyone about it. It had been her Vegas. One night to let go of the tight rein she had on her life, to do something out of character, before she committed to a relationship with Brian. Something that would remain where it happened.

  And now Vegas was right here in her school.

  A girl shuffled in, headphones on, eyes on the floor. Marissa forced a smile and introduced herself. The girl tried to answer, but it became obvious she knew little to no English. But her sweet and nervous smile washed over Marissa like a balm.

  Marissa pointed to a huge map on the wall and held her hands up as if to ask, Where are you from? The girl said, “Bosnia.” She handed the girl a bright red thumbtack while leading her to the map.

  Johnny stepped into the classroom next door and introduced himself to a petite brunette who appeared to be in her late forties. He coached himself to act present and attentive, even though he was mostly going through the motions. His mind was reeling more than he could handle at the moment.

  The teacher introduced herself as Amy Jared, and she was saying something about teaching math to English Language Learners by working on a special project, and by using everything in their immediate environment. Johnny dutifully glanced around and made an effort to pay close attention so he could revisit it all later, when his head was clear.

  But before long, he found himself actively listening and becoming invested in the teacher’s ideas. “I’ll be working with Marissa Medina. She and I met last year, when she was here for an interview. She had the idea back then, but it took all this time to get her position here approved. It almost didn’t make it on to this year’s budget, either. It was very last minute, so we haven’t had time to pull it all together. Mrs. Simmons and I held a parent meeting at the end of the school year and parents of the kids who signed up for these two classes were required to sign permission slips and commitments in case we’re finalists.”

  “Finalists?” Johnny echoed.

&nb
sp; “In the Mosaic Marathon. It’s a national competition. Finalists get to present a play or musical at the Mosaic Fair in Denver, Colorado, at the end of July, and Marissa and I need all the support we can get. We’ll be building props and applying for grants in case we do make it to the finals, and we’ll also need help recording our progress and uploading time-stamped videos for people to vote on”—she bit her lip and glanced at the clock—“and I’m making a mess of explaining it all. Can you meet with us sometime this week, maybe before or after school? Or during lunch?”

  A musical. This was what Marissa had been talking about in the elevator. Johnny couldn’t wait to hear the details. So far, it sounded exciting. “Any day and time work for me. Ask Miss Medina what time is best for her, and let me know.” Students began filing in and Johnny took one last look around, trying to see the world through Amy’s eyes. He hadn’t gotten the chance to do that with Marissa.

  Whatever they were planning, it was big. The very act of having a group of students enter a national competition had the potential to boost school pride and morale, and both went a long way in improving student engagement.

  When he walked out, Marissa was standing at her door, smiling brightly, obviously eager to meet her new students. Two boys came in and one of them said, “Dang, she hot,” loudly, while looking Marissa up and down. He had a round, friendly face, but his eyes held a small spark of defiance. The second boy halfheartedly smiled and high-fived the first boy, while carefully avoiding looking at Marissa. Marissa threw Johnny a warning glance, silently telling him not to intervene.

  Johnny caught her look and said, “It’s your classroom. I wouldn’t dream of it,” before continuing down the hall. Seeing Marissa again pulled him back into confusion. Dozens of thoughts raced through his head, but now wasn’t the time to catch and study them. Kids were filling the hall and filing into both Marissa’s and Amy Jared’s classrooms, and Johnny was focused on zigzagging through them, making him feel as if his head was playing catch-up with his body.

  The first thing he did when he got to his small office was to close the glass door, lean against it, and try to get his thoughts in order. The girl at the masquerade party was Marissa! How had he gotten everything so confused?

  And could Marissa put the past aside and trust him to do his job?

  He pushed off the door and made a quick, firm decision. He’d give himself five minutes to process everything that had happened so he could get past it and get down to work. He walked over to the narrow window beside his desk that looked out onto green space. A bright sun shone down on overgrown grass. Leafy oaks and maples towered over a few peeling, blue metal mesh picnic tables. A half-formed idea that he and his brothers could sand and repaint the tables burned behind other, more pressing thoughts.

  He wound back to Saturday night. The first thing he’d noticed about Melinda was that her eyes lacked the happy light he’d seen in Dulcinea’s eyes. That was the moment he’d known Melinda wasn’t the girl.

  Mrs. Medina was an American of Italian descent, and Mr. Medina was Puerto Rican. Their kids had inherited a similar mix of their parents’ traits. The three of them had tanned skin, dark blond hair, and brown eyes, and were of average height, although he guessed Marissa was a little taller than average. And where Melinda had the killer curves and gorgeous face to rival any Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, Marissa had subtler curves and a more interesting beauty. Large, dark eyes, upturned nose, and round, button lips. He remembered she’d once caught him looking at her, and she’d shrunk away and laughed a fake laugh, remarking that she looked like a waif, all skin and bones. But he’d been thinking something else all together. He’d been thinking he’d never seen eyes that radiated that much warmth and hope.

  As he thought back to the night in the elevator, he realized she’d grown into a beauty mainly because she seemed happy and comfortable in her skin and body.

  Her soft skin and warm body.

  Johnny hung his head. His very first day on the job as the school’s psychologist . . . and he was hot for a teacher. He swallowed hard, making an effort to push away the memory of those subtle curves and soft, clinging lips, and to think of her as simply a coworker.

  Marissa had also been the only one of Rosa’s grandkids to learn Spanish. It had made Rosa insanely proud and happy that at least one of them had taken an interest.

  He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen Melinda. Probably the summer after she’d finished high school, sometime before she’d headed off to Los Angeles to try her hand at acting and modeling. That had probably been part of the confusion. Melinda was four years younger than him. They’d rarely talked and had probably never hung out.

  But there was no way he could tell everyone he’d confused the two sisters after what happened Saturday night. Rosa would gut him, Marty would throw him in the oven . . . and Michelle Medina would bury his remains.

  The only thing he could do was let everything run its course. Not only had Marissa not been happy to see him, she also hadn’t shown the least bit of attraction or interest. And she’d been dating Brian Golden for the past year . . .

  He slapped his forehead. Brian was probably Don Quixote! Johnny had never been a fan of his. If everything he remembered about Brian still held true: he was an okay guy, but he was all wrong for Marissa. Although, maybe he’d changed.

  Finally, he sat down and took a good look at his office for the first time. Scruffy, solid oak desk. Four-drawer gray metal file cabinet. Bare, dirty, off-white walls. Small window and a glass door that looked out onto a wall.

  His trained eye told him the space was eight-by-eight. It could be a comforting place. Mrs. Simmons would probably let him paint it after school. He smiled when he remembered what he’d seen of Marissa’s classroom. It was perfect. If she’d just started, it meant she’d spent the weekend working on it.

  Johnny spent part of the morning poring over each summer student’s file. In all, there were thirty-two students divided between the two teachers. All of them were labeled ELL, which he knew was the acronym for English Language Learners. The kids in Marissa’s class all had one thing in common: They’d failed English proficiency tests. The kids in Amy Jared’s class had failed to meet state math standards for their grades.

  He decided to stop by Marissa’s and Amy’s classes and introduce himself to the kids, as Mrs. Simmons had suggested. Marissa’s classroom happened to be the first one down the hallway. He stood by the door, where he wouldn’t be disrupting, and waited to see if it was a good moment.

  Marissa’s shoulder-length, loose waves kept her face hidden from him. With her white crop pants, ballet flats, and an orange and white polka-dot top, she looked professional, fresh, pretty, and fun. The kids were watching something on a screen and laughing.

  “Sharks and Jets, dumbest gangsta names ever,” one of the boys was saying, doubled over in laughter.

  So they were watching West Side Story. Johnny bit back a smile.

  “That’s actually great feedback!” Marissa hit pause on the DVD player. The earnest look in her eyes tugged at Johnny and he took a step forward. “The story you’re watching was set in the nineteen fifties, and it was based on Romeo and Juliet. If you want your own Romeo and Juliet version based on your own experiences, you need to choose names and a setting that speaks to you. I told you, it’s up to you. This is your project. I’m only here to guide you along.”

  A few kids shouted out different suggestions.

  “Junkies!”

  “Daggers!”

  “Crackheads!”

  Others, whom Johnny guessed knew little English, looked somewhat lost, but animated all the same.

  Undeterred by their colorful suggestions, Marissa went on in her intense, enthusiastic way, saying, “Javier will jot down the names you suggest only if you raise your hands first. And remember, we need to keep it appropriate if we want to win the race. We can vote before we break for lunch.” She stopped pacing and gave them a self-deprecating smile. “Hey,
I know the movies and stories I’m showing you might seem silly to you, but I love them. They’re classics and great influences for your own musical.” She gestured as she spoke, trying to get those who didn’t know English at all to understand.

  The words win and race worked like magic. The kids began raising their hands, and making suggestions. Javier, the kid who’d called Marissa “hot” and whom Johnny guessed Marissa had identified as a leader, was busy taking down names, keeping him too occupied to cause more trouble than a few inappropriate suggestions of his own. Meanwhile, Marissa went around to a few of the kids, explaining things in what sounded like Spanish, or using an app on her phone to translate into another language.

  Names like Thugs, Longboards, Forties, Eightballs, Drifts, Hackers, Dime Bags, Bolts, and Strikers were quickly tossed about and either jotted down by Javier, or discarded by Marissa.

  “Hey,” a boy called to him when he spotted him at the door.

  “Hey.” Johnny smiled and lifted his head in greeting.

  “Oh. Hello, Dr. Amador. Are you here to meet the class?” Marissa asked, her voice pleasant, but schooled into extreme politeness. Her expression was unreadable.

  “Mr. Amador,” Johnny corrected and waved hello to the class. It would be another year before he was Dr. Amador.

  “Whatdja think of our gangsta names, Mr. A?” Javier asked, a mischievous look in his eyes.

  Mr. A. Johnny grinned; he liked that. But he knew Javier had managed to sneak some drug terms past Marissa. “Mucho nombre loco,” Johnny teased, letting Javier know he was on to him. The classroom erupted into laughter and even Marissa smiled. “I also think Miss Medina should look them all up before you vote,” he added.

  Marissa slanted a disappointed look Javier’s way, and he lowered his head.

  “Can he stay?” a girl named Veronica asked, nodding toward Johnny.

  “Well . . .” Marissa looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Johnny gave her a look. The two of them really needed to talk.