Chapter 10
Fighter – Christina Aguilera
Cassidy
“Lucas, honey, honestly you’re not going to get into trouble.” Pain twisted in my chest as his little body shook with sobs.
“But we’re going to see Miss Wright.” Tears dripped off the end of his chin, soaking into the gray—should-be-white—shirt he wore.
“We are, honey, but only because we’re worried about you.”
Two things had made the emergency meeting a necessity.
First, Lucas had no lunch and no money on his lunch card.
He tried to hide in the boy’s bathroom, but Bertie had tattled.
How she knew, I didn’t want to know, but I was grateful she did.
Then, while I taught the class about Henry VIII and his unfortunate wives, Lucas had fallen asleep, his head lolling on the desk, soft snores drawing giggles from the others.
“Be quiet,” Bertie had hissed at them. “He’s tired.” Bless her sweet heart.
When Lucas’s mom called to say she’d be late picking him up again, Mrs. Wright decided it was time for a meeting.
“Is my mom in trouble?” Lucas whispered as I led him along the corridor.
“No, sweetheart. We just want to make sure she’s okay and that you’re okay too.”
He looked up at me, brown eyes swimming, chin trembling. It was almost too much to bear. I chewed the inside of my cheek, wondering if I’d have chosen teaching had I known how often it would bruise my heart.
When we got to Mrs. Wright’s door, it was already open. She smiled warmly and waved us in.
“Hello, Lucas. Come on in.” She patted one of the visitor chairs. “I think I’ve got some cookies in my drawer. Would you like one?”
Lucas shot me a cautious look. I shrugged. “If you don’t think it’ll spoil your dinner.”
He accepted a cookie with tentative fingers and nibbled at the edge. As he swung his legs under the chair, his gaze traveled around the room; certificates on the walls, a vase of tired flowers, a couple of softball trophies gathering dust.
“She’s five minutes away,” Mrs. Wright mouthed to me over Lucas’s head.
I nodded and took the seat beside him, offering a reassuring smile when he glanced up.
“Another?” Mrs. Wright asked, rattling the packet.
He shook his head solemnly. “I’m good, thank you.”
The silence was thickening awkwardly when Ruth Keller practically ran into the room, breathless.
“I’m so sorry, the traffic was awful.” She dropped to her knees in front of Lucas, hugging him tight. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, Mom. I’m good.” A small smile bloomed on his face, and it was obvious that love wasn’t the thing lacking in Lucas’s life.
“Mrs. Keller, please take a seat,” Mrs. Wright said, her tone calm and kind.
Ruth sat down and smoothed Lucas’s hair, her other hand wringing in her lap. “Is this about me being late again?”
“It is,” Mrs. Wright said gently, “but it’s also about a couple of things that happened today.”
Ruth’s gaze sharpened, darting to her son. “You didn’t get into a fight again, did you?”
“No, Momma. I promised I wouldn’t.” His sincerity nearly broke me.
“Lucas.” Mrs. Wright tapped his knee. “Why don’t you go down to the cafeteria? I believe Miss Goody has some mac n’ cheese that needs a brave taste-tester.”
Lucas lit up. “Can I, Mom? It’s my favorite!”
Ruth looked stricken. “I have food at home—”
“We know,” I said quickly. “But Miss Goody’s very nervous about her recipe. She’ll be grateful for his opinion.”
“Okay, sweetie,” Ruth said with a watery smile. “And use your manners, please.”
He bolted from the room so fast, he nearly left a vapor trail behind him.
Mrs. Wright clapped her hands lightly. “Right. Let’s talk about how we can help you and Lucas.”
“I know I’ve been tardy,” Ruth said, twisting her hands. “My job’s in Montrose, and sometimes the traffic, or my boss keeping me late…”
“We’re not judging,” I said softly. “We just want to help.”
“What happened today?” she asked, her voice cracking.
Mrs. Wright nodded for me to continue.
“He had no lunch money, and he tried to hide in the boys’ bathroom.”
Ruth gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “I thought he had money on his card. That was why I didn’t worry about giving him some lunch.”
“And later, he fell asleep in class,” I added gently.
Shame and worry chased across her features. “I worked extra hours at my second job last night. I didn’t get a minute to check he was asleep.” She drew in a ragged breath. “I’m such a terrible mom.”
“No, Ruth, you’re not.”
“You’re doing your best,” Mrs. Wright reassured her, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “But it’s clear you’re struggling.”
“And the general state of his clothes…” she added carefully.
Ruth sagged in her chair. “My washer broke. And the cost of gas alone eats up any extra.”
God, the poor woman was drowning and dragging Lucas with her.
“We just want to figure out a way forward,” Mrs. Wright said kindly.
Footsteps echoed in the hall before there was a familiar voice: “Knock knock.”
I turned, and there he was. Gunner Miller, leaning against the doorframe like he was posing for the cover of some Wild West heartthrob calendar. His hair was damp, his biceps straining the sleeves of a faded Wrangler tee, and, of course, no jacket.
Mrs. Wright all but fluttered her eyelashes. “Mr. Miller, we’re in a meeting.”
“Yep. Know that. Bertie told me.” He pushed off the frame and sauntered in, hands tucked into the pockets of his worn jeans.
“How did Bertie know?” I asked, folding my arms, trying to armor up against the sight of him.
He gave me a lazy grin. “How does Bertie know anything?”
“Hey, Ruthie,” he said warmly, tipping an imaginary hat. “Good to see you.”
Mrs. Wright blinked. “How can we help you?”
“I came to offer Ruthie a job,” he said casually, like offering salvation was just a thing he did on Wednesdays.
My eyes flew to Ruth, who was already shaking her head.
“Gunner, I can’t. I’m moving to Montrose.”
“That’s the beauty of it, Ruthie.” He rocked back on his heels. “You won’t have to.”
“But the pay—”
“You don’t know what I’m offering yet.”
“Gunner,” I cut in, unable to stop myself. “We appreciate it, but—”
He glanced at me, his blue eyes sparkling with something I couldn’t quite name. “Maybe you should hear the offer first.”
There was a hard thud against my ribs.
He turned back to Ruth. “Come out to the ranch after this. Bring Lucas. We’ll have dinner, and I’ll lay it all out for you.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he barreled on.
“It’s a good, steady job. Use of a ranch truck and gas. Health insurance. A salary you’ll like. And…” He flicked a glance at me. “There are two new projects in the works that I think you’ll be excited about. Isn’t that right, Miss. Turner.”
My pulse quickened. Was he talking about—
“I’ll let y’all get back to it.” Gunner clapped his hands together and backed toward the door. “Just wanted to throw my hat in. Pleasure seeing you ladies.”
He winked as he left, whistling some cheery, irritating tune that somehow still made my knees a little wobbly.
Mrs. Wright looked like she was about to swoon. Ruth was crying quietly. Me? I was torn between wanting to hug Gunner…and wanting to kick him in the shin.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, pushing up from my chair before I could change my mind.
I caught him just as he reached the front entrance.
“Gunner!”
He turned smoothly, arms open. “Well, hey there, Cassidy. Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
God, that grin. Somebody should outlaw it.
“I just wanted to thank you,” I said stiffly. “For what you did for Ruth.”
He shrugged; all easy charm. “Nothing to thank me for. I just threw a rope. She’s the one who’s got to grab it.”
“And the somethings?” I narrowed my eyes.
His mouth curved wickedly. He leaned down, tapping my nose with his finger. “Nosey, nosey.”
“I’m sure Last Creek Ranch isn’t my business, but I was wondering…”
“If it might be your kid’s club.”
“It’s a little more than a kid’s club.”
I scowled. He chuckled.
“Maybe, but like you said The Last Creek Ranch isn’t your business,” he said softly. “Yet.”
Before I could demand he explain, he gave me a salute and sauntered out the door, the fading whistle of the stupid tune behind him.
Damn him. Damn him for being the most aggravating, swoon-worthy man I’d ever met.
And damn those jeans for making me forget which one mattered more.