by Conn, Claudy
“Alrighty, you wanted to help? We have got to get cracking. We need to measure out the oats in little cups. The glitter usually isn’t a problem. And—” she checked her watch, “—if we get through the hour without being slammed, all the better.”
He grinned and shook his head. “You make it sound like war.”
“It is and here are the rules…” She walked him through the basics. She was positive the highlights alone would have him running for the hills, but when they finished up in the supply tent, filling more than a hundred Dixie Cups, she came out of patient instructor mode and realized he wasn’t going anywhere when he pulled her into his arms.
He bent down until his forehead rested against hers and whispered, “I wish I’d had a teacher like you when I was in school.”
Her heartbeat sped. “Why? I’m not much fun.”
“I think you are.”
The look he gave her when he let her go nearly brought her to her knees. It said, “Yeah, I think you’re going to be a lot of fun when I get you alone and fuck your brains out”.
“Are you coming? I’ll carry the tray.”
Good thing he grabbed the oats. Her hands were shaking so bad they’d be all over the place if she had to cart them. “Yes. Yup. I am.”
She practically floated for the next ten minutes until the craft section opened up and their tables got filled. Then it was back to patient instructor as she got her first group organized. She was trying to be quick about it as she heard Riker’s kids screaming and shouting. She could just imagine what she was going to face when she turned. Only…
All his kids were quiet. Too quiet as they put together their bags. Hm.
“Riker?”
He spun around and God, she loved to see him smile. Although she’d probably never get used to the way it affected her. “Hi.”
“How did you get them to settle down? They’re being so good.” She prayed he hadn’t threatened them with bodily harm or anything. That was one of the rules she thought went without saying, but one look at the angels and she thought maybe she should have said it.
“Simple. I told them if they didn’t pipe down and get to making the food, I wouldn’t buy them an ice cream afterward.”
Surely she didn’t hear him right. She’d been ready to hear something that would require quick thinking to divert a possible lawsuit. She’d even kicked around the opposite idea that he was a bright guy, and as such, he might have some pearls of man wisdom to impart. Perhaps give her a new tactic she could employ with her kids and this? This was his secret? “You can’t do that.”
“Sure I can.”
His smile widened and he winked. Was he insane? “No, you can’t. What about the kids at my table. They’ll want an ice cream too.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
She drew in a breath and held it there. A thousand things flew through her mind at once before the air escaped in a rush. “You can’t just buy them an ice cream cone. What if their parents don’t want them to have one? What if—if— I don’t know. You have to fix this. Let me think…Oh—” she pushed him toward the entrance, “—buy them tickets so they can get the ice cream you promised them or whatever their parents approve of. You’ll need enough for twelve kids. Hurry. I’ll watch your table.”
Ten minutes later, with that crisis averted and the first group shipped off with their bags in hand, Sidney was breathing a sigh of relief until the second group got seated and she happened to catch sight of Riker’s ass. Or, more importantly, what was tied to the side of his belt. A whole roll of tickets.
Determined to confront him over the find, she got this new group organized and just happened to arrive at his table in time to hear him say, “In my day, my brother and I would pick the best decorated house on the street and steal all their red Christmas lights.”
One of the boys snorted and said, “Cool.” Only it came out as Kew-el.
“Yeah, but the best was after they replaced them we’d—”
“Riker.”
She shook her head and thankfully he got the message, but before she could tackle him over the tickets, her own group needed her attention. By the time the allotted ten minutes was up she’d practically forgotten about the tickets until she saw the screaming crowd around him as he laughingly handed them out. He seemed happy and the kids were happy. So, darn it all to hell, it was a going to be a shame having to take them away from him.
“Hey, mister. You mean every kid that does the reindeer food is going to earn two tickets?”
Sidney gasped and nearly tripped over a little guy who was tying his shoe, in an attempt to get close enough to stop Riker from—
“Providing they behave, yes.”
Too late. She wanted to cry. It wouldn’t take more than five minutes she was sure for the whole park full of kids to be buzzing about the guy with the tickets at the reindeer food table. They’d be buried. “Riker!”
He waved as if he hadn’t just unlocked the proverbial key to the candy store. And that’s when she heard it. A low rumble or rather the ground shaking. Cringing, she turned toward the entrance and wanted to die. It was like a scene from The Walking Dead, only these were living kids. Tall, short, skinny, chunky. Some wearing glasses, while others elbowed their way through the growing hoard to knock the spectacle wearers aside. Suddenly the landscape shifted, her eyes started to blur and she saw everything in slow motion. This is what hell looked like. She tried to not to panic when their cries came to her, low and distorted, but she had no choice because she was in shock.
Riker grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “What’s the matter darlin’? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She didn’t reply, only pointed in the direction and when he turned and saw the human wave approaching, the bright smile he’d previously been sporting faltered. “What the fuck is that?”
“Kids looking for tickets.”
He snapped his head around. “No.”
“’Fraid so. Nothing we can do about it now.”
For the next half hour it seemed all Sidney did was hand out cups of oats and glitter until finally there was a lull. Their time was almost up, thank God. She was just about to swipe the excess glitter and oats off the table into the waste box when she heard a kid cry.
“Ow!”
She looked over her shoulder toward Riker’s table to see what was amiss. Was someone hurt? That’s when she did a double take. What the hell? Riker was showing two kids how to punch each other.
She didn’t even straighten before she called, “Riker!”
By the time she turned he was holding up his hands, smiling. “It’s okay. Don’t get mad. The game’s over. One of them caved.”
She wasn’t sure, but she could have sworn she heard him talking through his teeth to them. Yes, it definitely sounded as if he were telling them to smile and act natural.
Ten more minutes. Ten more—now what? She saw the only girl at his picnic table burst out crying. Great. Had she gotten in the way of one of the punches?
Sidney rushed over, expecting to have to step in. From experience she knew most men didn’t handle crying well. But when she saw Riker down on his haunches next to the little redhead and quietly talking to her, she stopped to listen
“Aww, sweetheart, what happened? Why are you crying?”
“My brother stole most of my oats and now my bag is different than everyone else’s.” She turned and glared at the boy sitting next to her who promptly made a face and stuck out his tongue. Sidney took a step forward, but then held back when Riker leaned around the girl and pointed right at her brother.
“Not cool. Guys get nowhere in life when they treat girls bad. Especially when that girl is their sister. Trust me on this, dude. When she’s sixteen she’s going to have all kinds of cute friends, and if she hates your guts, all her girlfriends will hate you too. Now apologize.”
Okay, so that reasoning wasn’t perfect by any means, but it did do the trick. The boy’s face went bright red. He looked s
o mortified Sidney thought he was going cry. “I’m sorry, Stella,” the boy mumbled.
Stella sniffled and grudgingly nodded, but her shoulders remained slumped as she stared at her lap. Riker tried to get her attention and finally he had to dip and tilt his head to catch her eye. “Feel better?”
“No. My bag is different than theirs.”
“What’s wrong with that? Sometimes different is good. Really good. Better even. Like,” he bent, stretching until he got hold of the waste box Sidney had given him and then shifted to fill Stella’s bag with leftover oats and glitter until it was completely full. “Now. See? It’s still different, but better, right?”
Sidney wasn’t sure whether it was the profound message buried in Riker’s words or the sight of such a big guy on his knees steadily holding a Glad bag full of cereal so a beaming young girl could tie a sparkly ribbon around it that had her all misty eyed. She only knew that when she went back to her table to see to her kids she was feeling all floaty again.
Sometimes different is good. Really good. Better even.
He’s said that as if he meant. Believed it right down to the core and that idea more than anything triggered something within her. A need to explore the concept and when she did she saw something she’d always known but now from a different perspective. Sure, she’d always recognized her pegs were a little too round to fit into the square holes her peers easily slid into, but this never bothered her. How could it? It wasn’t as if she could change her whole personality. No, where the problem came in was with her parents. Her parents, just like Stella with her Glad Bag, wanted Sidney to be the same as everyone else. Sidney didn’t want to be the same as everyone else.
So why are you trying so hard to be the daughter your parents want instead of the woman you are?
Right then Riker’s words when they were sitting on that stool came back to her. I’d want you to be a happy well-adjusted woman who doesn’t behave according to anyone, but herself.
“Ms. Capp? I can’t get this tied.”
Absently she bent and tied a young boy’s ribbon for him. “There. How’s that?”
“Good, but I’d still rather be at their table.”
She blinked and straightened. “Excuse me?”
The boy stabbed a finger toward Riker’s table and said, “They’re playing war.”
War?
She spun around and all she saw was mayhem. She’d been so wrapped up in her epiphany she hadn’t heard the squeals. She did the Steve Austin eye around the table perimeter and…? He left? Any adult with half a brain knows you don’t leave kids with craft supplies at the ready unattended.
“All right.” she clapped sharply twice and walked forward. Only to stop dead in her tracks when Riker popped up from under the far end of the picnic table and tossed a whole fistful of glitter that showered all the giggling kids within range.
“Riker!”
He was on his knees and when he looked at her with a wide smile, it was difficult to get mad. He was like a kid himself and the sight made it hard not to smile back. But he shouldn’t be throwing glitter and getting the kids all riled. She was just about to tell him so when three boys on one side of the table joined forces and each threw a handful of glitter his way. They had good aim. The cloud of glitter hit Riker smack in the face.
He didn’t miss a beat. He blinked, sputtered twice, spit once, but continued to beam when he called to her, “You wanna play?”
When she spied the twinkling red, green and gold sparkle lodged between his teeth, it was too much for her. Screw being the patient tutor and uptight teacher in control. Fuck being the perfect daughter and good old dependable Sid. It was time for her to embrace some of her different. And that part of her had been dying to be at Riker's table all morning having fun. “Absolutely.”
Five minutes into their free-for-all Sidney learned probably the most important thing she needed going forward in her volunteering-at-craft-table career. When the adults behaved like kids, they were very quickly relieved of their duties. Fist pump on that one. She was definitely chiseling that commandment into stone.
“Are you mad that I got us kicked off the craft tables?” Riker took her hand as they walked through the milling crowd.
“No, we only had a few minutes left anyway. I think Harry just wanted to make an example of us. He was a little hot under the collar about the tickets though.”
“Yeah, sorry about that too. Actually, I’m sorry…”
When he stopped, she turned to look up at him. There was a light in his eyes she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t so much serious as it was intense. “What’s the matter?”
“I was going to apologize for the pile of things I did wrong this morning, but after perusing the extensive list, it’s best if I just tell you what I’m not sorry for.” He brushed glitter, no doubt, from her cheek and whispered, “I’m not sorry I came with you, Sid. I had the best time even if I almost got us a detention.”
Her pulse picked up speed and the crowd around them was all but forgotten when she intoned, “There are bits of glitter in your teeth.”
He pulled her up against him and dipped down to speak in her ear, “Awesome. You want some?”
Before she could answer, he kissed her. Slow, deep and steady. And all she tasted was the hot mint and the heaven he’d told her about before. Oh, they weren’t behind the bleachers and there was no tiger-striped shade, but that didn’t matter. Right now, right here, he was her guy.
“Hey.” He gave her a shake and she opened her eyes. “Let’s go home.”
“Okay.” And there she was feeling all floaty again until she spotted the venders’ section and remembered. “You go get the car. I’ll meet you at the corner of Edgewater and Beltrees Street.”
“Where are you going?”
She turned around and walked backwards, answering, “I have to get my honey.”
“I thought you already did.”
She was about to say no when he smiled and she got the double meaning. It warmed her right down to her toes. She practically stumbled when she turned back around to hunt down her venders.
Riker watched her leave and quietly let out a slow whistle. She had the best walking away ass. The longer he stared the more he remembered how those round cheeks felt cupped in his palms last night. How her curves felt snuggled up against him. How she smelled like cinnamon and sugar and tasted like the honey she was going to purchase. Damn, he couldn’t wait to get her home. But before he headed for the car there was an item he’d spotted on their walk in earlier that he had his eye on.
Unfortunately, when he got to the sale tent the woman said she’d sold it to a guy just a few minutes ago and although she didn’t have another one here with her, she did have one at her shop in St Pete’s. Riker didn’t hesitate. He asked her put it aside for him. He’d pick it up first of the week.
“Isn’t that Sidney Capp’s car?”
He looked over the roof and saw an older woman speculatively glaring. “Yes.”
“Where is she? And where’s Ken?” He didn’t answer right away so his silence must have prompted her to add, “I’m Monica Otum, principal at the school Sidney teaches at. I just spoke to Ken last week when he came to pick up Sidney. Her car was in the shop so he had to.” She eyed the car now. “Are you a friend of theirs?”
Her inference was clear and so was the stab of jealousy it caused to course through him. “Name’s Riker Mitchell. I’m not sure where Ken is, but Sidney is waiting for me a few streets from here. We volunteered at the craft tables together.”
That last statement put her at ease. She relaxed and smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry if I seemed rude before. It’s just that Sidney is special. A real sweetheart. She’s the only single teacher at our school, but not for long, I’m thinking.”
And Riker was thinking as he went to pick up Sid that the nosey principal was going to be disappointed when she learned that Sid had broken it off with the sunset crier. Judging by the woman’s reaction when she’d looked Riker
up and down, Ken was the more appropriate guy who was going to take their sweetheart off the marriage block and deliver her into marital bliss.
When it came to women, suits always won and Ken was a suit wearer.
Fuck.
He wasn’t going to think about that even though it had bothered him to hear about how her parents had backed the guy. They wanted a suit for their daughter just like Brianna’s parents had. He pushed aside the awful taste that left in his mouth. Sidney wasn’t Bree and he wasn’t that broke ass handyman anymore. But hell, just last week? He didn’t know why but he had the impression that Sidney broke things off with Ken before then.
Jesus, now who was the nosey one? It shouldn’t matter in any case.
But it did because Ken wore a suit.
He shook his head and all thoughts of suits, broken hearts and disappointments fled the second he spotted Sidney flagging him down. She’d taken off her sweater as the day had started to heat up and the sight of her breasts bouncing in that T-shirt got him refocused. Yeah, fuck suit wearers, exes, parents and the nosey teachers. He’s the one lucky enough to have Sidney all to himself for the rest of the day and he intended to take every advantage of it. In several different ways.
Chapter Nine
Sidney’s hand shook as she lined the key up to the lock. This was it, she was sure. The moment she’d been pushing for since they’d messed around at his place yesterday. Was it just yesterday they’d done that? It seemed a lifetime ago now. Not that it mattered. Given the way she was reacting, all of what she was hoping and how she was presently feeling, their time together or lack thereof meant nothing to her. Yes—she turned the deadbolt until it clicked—her relationship with Riker was a testament to quality trumping quantity.
And now, with the ‘I’m-sleeping-with-him-too-soon’ guilt totally justified she was free to mentally move on to the logistics. Her bed with him in it was a must. As an added bonus? The sheets were freshly washed, thanks to sleeping on the couch last night. She didn’t want to think about how much that sign from God affected her. Let’s just say it was right up there with her high school nemesis, Jennifer Tidwell a.k.a “The Flash,” breaking her ankle before Sidney had to compete against her in the hundred yard dash the year all the gold medal achievement winners got to travel to St. Augustine to compete.
