Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
JACE
And it does not matter what any eyes think of her but mine . . . and to me, she is the most wonderful, most attractive, and most compelling of creatures.
Ruby Dixon, Ice Planet Barbarians
“N ice show today, Jace. You should really think about getting a teaching degree,” Mr. Nichols said as I was packing up my puppet show props.
I knew Mr. Nichols meant well. Everyone in town meant well. But it was hard not to take their comments as judgment after a while. Like how I spent my time, volunteering at the school here and running Young Wills weren’t worthy pursuits because it wasn’t a formal career.
“Thanks, but I’m happy with what I’m doing.”
“If you ever change your mind, I know some faculty at UT Knoxville in their education program. I’d be happy to introduce you. See you Thursday.”
I continued to pack up my rolling suitcases, recalling when Sienna, too, offered to arrange a meeting with a professor who ran the performing arts education program at a local liberal arts college. She didn’t judge me when I declined, but if I was being honest with myself, I’ve tossed around the idea of teaching more seriously since then. I loved working with kids, particularly in the theater, seeing them shine in their own ways, finding their confidence. Yet, a part of me was scared that if I formalized it by making it a career, it’d take some of the magic away.
I was on my way out, heading around the corner toward the main hallway, when a familiar voice made me pause. It was the voice I looked forward to hearing every Sunday, the little rasp once again causing a throb at the base of my spine.
I peered around the corner, and there she was. Polly Alberton.
She looked upset, pacing back and forth, speaking rapidly into her phone. “I understand that. But I’m sure you can also understand how alarming it was to come home to find my nanny, the one I hired from your service, smoking marijuana in my home when she was supposed to be watching my children.” She paused. “Uh-huh. Yes. But I need someone to watch my kids overnight when I’m on hospital call, not just during the day.”
Hospital call. Was she a nurse? And watch her kids? She must be a mom. My eyes moved over her upswept hair, sunglasses sitting on top of her head, then moved down her body. She wore a short black blazer, and tight, dark blue jeans molded to her incredible ass.
A hot mom.
A mom I’d like to?—
“Fine,” Polly snapped. “Yes. I’ll look for your email. But I will expect this month and next month’s fee to be refunded.”
Jesus, this woman was sexy when she was direct.
I turned back around, hiding behind the corner. Listening. Waiting. Holding my breath. I heard a couple soft footsteps, followed by a sigh. What in the hell was I doing? Hiding? And why? I wasn’t one to hesitate. I took a step forward just as Polly whipped around the corner, causing us to practically collide.
“Oh!” she cried as I reflexively grasped her shoulders, stopping us from crashing headfirst into one another. A look of shock crossed her face, so I automatically stepped back and dropped my hands, missing the soft feel of her body under them instantly. I’d been close to her before, on many occasions. Except today her makeup was fresh and light, splashes of freckles were visible across her cheeks and nose.
“ Miss Alberton, pleasure to see you again.” I laid on the Southern charm on thick as I could, taking my time, letting the s from the Miss drag on a little longer than usual.
“It’s just Polly.” She stiffened and backed up a step. “I saw your puppet show. You’re very talented.” Her expression was polite, face still unreadable. But her vivid green eyes were running all over me, despite her rigid posture. Like they were the only thing not buttoned up about her.
“Thank you.” I couldn’t help the wide grin that came over my face, loving the glimpse of another side of Polly Alberton.
“Do you work here?”
“At the school? No. I assist the theater classes throughout the school year and there’s an after-school theater program I help out with, too. I picked up the puppet show gig after a friend of mine gave me the idea. Her husband helped me build the stage. How old are your kids?”
She widened her eyes at my question, then bristled, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “How do you know I have kids?”
Hell, but she was a live wire. I didn’t want her to know I’d been listening to her phone call, so I shrugged. “I’m only assuming, since it’s almost pickup time. It’s why most folks come here about now.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Polly seemed to hesitate. “I have two kids: Max is ten and Ryla’s five.”
I remembered the new kids I met today, a brother and sister with blond hair and green eyes. Of course they were Polly’s kids, they looked just like their momma.
“Do your kids go to a different school during the year?”
“No.” Polly crossed her arms. “We just moved here in June. I grew up around here.”
I’d been cataloging everything she was saying. Moved here last month, check. Grew up here, but no accent, check. Single. Two kids. On call for the hospital. Check, check, and check.
“Did you move back here for work?”
She opened her mouth, then shook her head and snapped it shut. “Yes.”
Her reply was simple, yet I had a feeling that the story was anything but. I didn’t get the impression that a follow-up question was going to get me anywhere, so I pivoted. “Your daughter’s a real hoot and a half. She had the entire group in stitches when it was her turn with the puppets, pretending the monkey was in love with Bert. It was brilliant. I honestly wish I’d thought of it.”
Polly’s lips slowly curved into a smile as I recounted the story.
“My Ryla?” Polly’s voice was gentle as she took a step forward. It seemed unconscious, though, like she wasn’t aware she’d moved closer to me.
“Yup.” I nodded. “She was the first volunteer. In the middle of her act, she couldn’t figure out how to move one of the mechanisms for the puppets and looked like she was either gonna cry or throw it on the ground.” I raised my eyebrows. “I’m still not sure which. Then a boy who must be your son came and whispered in her ear, calming her down instantly.”
Polly shifted, looking down briefly. “Ryla has a bit of a temper, but my son, Max, is incredibly patient with her.” The melancholy in her tone confused me, as did the strong urge that came over me to take away her sadness.
“She’s a natural onstage,” I continued. My words were true, but I picked them carefully, wanting to see Polly smile again. “You can’t teach that kind of comedic timing. You should think about having her join Young Wills. It’s a theater program for elementary and middle school kids that live in the Green Valley School District. They meet every Tuesday and Thursday evening at the high school auditorium during the summers.”
I could have explained more definitively that I was one of the three instructors, but I didn’t.
“Ryla would love that. Is the program open to new kids right now?”
“Absolutely!” . . . not. “I know the women who run it. If you’re interested, just give me a call and I can reach out to them.”
Polly’s head tilted to one side. “I’d need your number for that.”
“Are you asking for my number? It’s a little forward of you, but I guess that’s alright,” I teased, making a big show of looking down and patting my hands over my pockets. I peeked up at Polly to find she was grinning, making me feel ten feet tall, pleased I’d put a smile on her face. More than pleased if I was being honest. I was playing a losing game, asking for her number, counting her smiles, knowing this would never lead anywhere. And yet, I couldn’t help myself.
“Young Wills is always looking for stage crew, too. If your son wanted to join, he’d be welcome. I get the impression he prefers to be out of the spotlight.”
Polly’s eyes softened a touch. Not taking her eyes off mine, she took her phone out of her pocket, holding it up. “What’s your number?”
Caught by her gaze, feeling like we were in our own world, I only started to recite my number when a short blonde head blurred past me, breaking the spell.
“Mommy!” The aforementioned hoot and a half practically tackled Polly, holding tight around her momma’s waist. The force of Polly’s full wattage smile was blinding when she looked down at her daughter. Never mind hoping for Polly’s small smiles. I wanted that smile. The one paired with pure happiness on Polly’s face. And I wanted it aimed at me.
“Hi Ryla, sweetie, did you have a fun day?” Polly asked as Ryla bounced up and down, still holding on to her momma.
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes—” Ryla’s chant cut off abruptly as she turned and saw me. Her eyes popped wide in recognition at the same time a few kids walked past us, calling out, “Bye, Mr. Jace! See you at Young Wills tonight!”
Polly’s head snapped in my direction at their words. Sheepish grin in place, I came clean. “I might help out with the Young Wills program from time to time.” As in every time.
Movement directed Polly’s attention down the hallway. Her son was walking behind a group of kids, eyes downcast, but looking up every once in a while. His face lit up when he saw his momma. As Max reached them, he gave his mom a side hug then shifted his eyes to mine curiously for a beat, then flitted away.
“Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, moooooom,” Ryla chanted again, demanding Polly’s attention.
“Ryla. I hear you,” Polly replied calmly, looking to her daughter. “What is it?”
Pointing a little finger at me, Ryla announced, “He has the puppets. Mr. Jace! Can I show my mom the puppets?”
Polly’s head was shaking before her daughter could get the full question out. “You know Max has an appointment this afternoon. We can’t be late.”
“I don’t wanna go there. It’s boring. I want to see puppets!” Ryla’s little face scowled as Max’s blanched.
Reaching in and out of my pocket discreetly, I knelt down in front of Ryla. “It’s Ryla, right? I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to show you the puppets again today. Besides, they’re all packed up.” I gestured to the suitcases beside me. “But I’ll tell you what. I’ll be back on Thursday. You can take another crack at ’em then.”
As Ryla’s green eyes lit up, I felt Polly’s on me.
I tilted my head and pointed to Ryla’s ear. “Hey, what’s that?”
“What?” Ryla looked confused.
“Behind your ear,” I explained, reaching behind her ear with my right hand. “I swear I saw something.”
Doing the first magic trick I ever taught myself, I moved the quarter from where it’d been hidden in the soft web between my thumb and palm and pretended to find it behind Ryla’s ear.
“You better keep track of that.” I handed Ryla the quarter, her little body practically vibrating with amazement.
“Holy moly!” Ryla screeched, scratching wildly behind her little ears, looking for more coins. “How’d you do that?” Ryla grabbed my hand, turning it over in earnest.
I spread my fingers wide and held them up. “Magic!”
It was only then that I glanced at Polly and Max, who had twin expressions of guarded amusement: cheeks upturned in a smile, but eyebrows knitted together. I slyly reached into my pocket again.
“You’re Max, right? I’m Jace.” At my greeting, Max moved closer to his mom. I played it off and pointed at him. “Wait a minute, do you?” Extending my hand behind his ear, I produced a second quarter.
I wanted to puff out my chest at the look of wonder on Max’s face and the small step he took toward me.
Placing the quarter in his hand I teased, “You two need to do a better job of keeping track of your money.”
“I keep mine in Totes Baa -goats.” My head swung to Ryla at her comment, swearing she’d just made a little bleating noise. She jerked a thumb at her brother. “He spends all his on video games,” she said, making me laugh and Polly hiss, “Ryla.”
“What?” Ryla’s expression was pure innocence, though I got the impression she knew exactly what she was doing.
Polly rolled her eyes. “Alright, kids. Thank, uh, Mr. Jace here,” she said, stumbling over my name. “It was nice to see you again.” Polly began to corral her kids down the hallway, so I grabbed my suitcases to walk with them. Once we got to the front entrance, I walked briskly ahead and held the first double door open.
“Allow me.”
Polly gave me a curt nod as she and Max moved through the doorway. Ryla shot past them reaching the outer door first, pushing against it with all of her might.
“UUUnnnnggghhh,” Ryla grunted as she pushed the door open, holding it for us. “Quick! Before I lose it!”
Once we all dashed through the door, Ryla let go and her little chest heaved with her effort.
“Thank you for holding the door open. My arms are so tired from the puppet show, I don’t know if I’d have ever gotten that open.”
“But you have such big muscles.”
I guffawed as Polly chided, “Ryla!”
“Look at his arms, Mom!” Ryla accompanied this by pointing at my arms. Admittedly today, I was wearing a T-shirt that was on the snug side. “Can I feel ’em?”
Closing her eyes, cheeks flushed red, Polly shook her head slowly at her daughter’s request. I was trying not to preen like a peacock whose feathers were just complimented, even if it had been by a five-year-old.
I moved the lighter of the two spinner suitcases toward Ryla, gesturing to the parking lot behind her. “I’m parked just down the row there. If it’s ok with your momma, want to help me get this to the car?”
Ryla glanced at Polly, who nodded. Then with a determined look on her face, Ryla was off, practically sprinting down the veranda, pushing the suitcase in front of her. For a little thing, she was actually pretty fast. “Come on slow pokes!” Ryla called out behind her.
I fought back a chuckle, starting after her. Polly certainly had her hands full. I wondered if their daddy was in the picture. Glancing to my right, I noticed Polly wasn’t following us. Glancing behind me, I saw her kneeling in front of her son. Max was stock-still, face stricken, chest moving quickly up and down as he clutched at his momma’s hands. Polly was crouched down, murmuring and looking intently at her son’s glassy eyes.
Shoot, I hadn’t even noticed he was having a hard time. I’d never had a panic attack, but my own mother had them on occasion. From the way Polly was reacting, my guess was this wasn’t his first one. Opting to give them some time and seeing that Ryla was almost to the parking lot, I jogged after her. Thankfully, she stopped at the juncture where the veranda met the parking lot. After catching up with her, I noticed she was looking back at Max and Polly. I briefly wondered if I was doing the right thing, giving them space.
“He has more butterflies in his belly than other kids. He just needs time to calm them down.”
I turned my head back to Ryla, who apparently had the wisdom of someone ten times her age. She was just as much of an enigma as her mother.
After looking down the road both ways, Ryla pushed the suitcase ahead of her and I walked beside her. Confidence blaring, she led me down the rows of cars even though she didn’t know which car was mine.
“Do you have kids?” she asked out of the blue.
“Nope.”
“Do you have a wife?”
“Not one of those, either.” I answered easily.
She slowed, eyeing me up and down, real squinty. I felt like I was in a lineup.
“How old are you?” she asked. I glanced back to Polly and Max before turning my attention back to the short Sherlock Holmes.
“Twenty-four. Why, how old are you?”
She began to walk at a normal pace again, nose in the air. “Almost six. Do you like kids?”
I chuckled. “Did my momma put you up to this?
In response, Ryla gave me a fairly harsh “you’re a moron” expression—one I hadn’t been on the receiving end of since the sixth grade. She followed this up with, “No. I don’t even know your mom.”
Fair point. “Sure, I like kids,” I answered, moving on. “Sometimes I like them more than adults—Hey, there’s my car!” I tried to distract her by making a big show of opening my trunk with a button and yelling, “Abracadabra!”
Ryla was unimpressed. “You just pressed the button,” she said flatly.
I shrugged and glanced at Polly and Max who were now at least hugging.
“You can be our new Giselle!” I jerked my head to Ryla whose green eyes were wide with delight.
“Uh, who?” I asked, putting down the suitcase handles.
“Our Giselle! She’s in Italy so we need someone to watch us even though we’re not babies. Miss Simon made good cookies but won a lot of money and then we had one that was really mean but only for a day and now we have to find a new one.”
I had no idea what she just said or what a Giselle was, but from Polly’s conversation earlier, I had a feeling I knew where she was going with this.
They were in the market for a babysitter.
Which meant Ryla was looking to buy me.
“Well . . .” I searched for a segue when inspiration struck. I lifted the suitcase, but pretended it was too heavy. I tugged on it a few more times, not letting it budge.
“Oof.” I pretended to wipe sweat off my forehead. “Say, did you add weights to this? It’s too heavy!”
Ryla giggled as I tried and failed to lift the suitcase again.
“It’s not heavy!” She laughed as she grabbed the handle with both hands and lifted it straight up in the air, then slammed it back to the ground.
We played this game a few more times, Ryla laughing harder with each of my failed attempts. Sighing, I dramatically wiped my non-sweaty forehead again, then put my hands on my hips. “I think you better help me.”
Ryla went to pick up the suitcase, and I made a big show of grunting and talking under my breath as we both lifted it into the trunk. After both of the suitcases were in the back, I dusted off my palms.
“Well, little miss Ryla. I am so glad you helped me with those heavy suitcases. I don’t think I’d ever have gotten them in there!”
Ryla clapped, jumping up and down and shouted, “Now you have to be our new Giselle!” at the same time as Polly and Max came up behind us.
And judging by her slightly open mouth, Polly definitely heard what Ryla said. Head whipping back and forth between her daughter and me, Polly shouted, “What in the world? Ryla! Did you just ask him what I think you just asked him?”
Nonplused, Ryla merely looked at her momma and shrugged. “What? He said he likes kids more than grown-ups.”
Oh, shit .
I opened my mouth and held up my hands just as Polly gave me a sharp, disgusted look and moved closer to Ryla protectively, Max mirroring Polly’s every step.
“Whoa, that is not how I meant it?—”
Polly cut me off with an incredulous look, her eyes silently saying, I’m sure. She jerked her head to Ryla. “We have to go.”
“But, Mom?—”
“NOW.” Polly’s stern command was accompanied by a sharp finger snap. Ryla went immediately to her mother’s side as Polly led her kids past me without another word.
I watched her walk away, head held high, her long legs eating up the ground in front of her.
Damn, but she was sexy as hell.
It’s a shame she thought I was a pervert.