Chapter 12 #2
“But she has bingo tonight,” Kerry added. “So, it’s us and some scrap two-by-fours.” She propped her hands on her hips. Like Autumn, she was dressed for teaching in knit leggings and a long shirt. “We still have the risers to place and the rest of the props to make.”
“Props?” In my day, we sang a few songs and went home.
“The kids turned this into more of a skit,” Autumn explained, her cheeks growing pink. “And they were actually getting excited. I couldn’t say no. I figured I’d just toss up a quick set.”
“It’s turned into a bigger production than any of us anticipated,” Mr. Ellison finished. He was still in slacks, but his polo shirt was half-untucked. None of them were prepared to build a set. “But we couldn’t leave Autumn here to work alone.”
They’d get it done, but it’d be late. I could leave, but I’d just wait up for her and get some more work done. I’d wonder how she was doing. How the set would look. My shoulders already ached at the thought of working at the table.
I could still swing a hammer.
I pushed my sleeves up. “Tell me what you need.”
Autumn
Kerry had gone and picked up pizza for us. Gideon had slipped her some money without telling us. Judging from all the pizza she’d brought, it had been a lot of cash.
I considered how thoughtful that was way too much. Almost as much as I watched him work. The way he bent and squatted, lining up boards and hammering nails. We didn’t have major power tools. Our tool was Gideon.
He’d had a couple slices of pizza, then gone back to work.
I was on my third slice. The ham sandwich and leftover macaroni salad had burned off hours ago, and I was starving. The heat kindling low in my belly said I was hungry for more.
“You have good taste,” Kerry murmured. Joseph Ellison was helping Gideon move the set into place so we could hang our decorations off it.
“Thanks. I think the mushrooms are best with black olives.”
She snorted and brushed a napkin over her lips when the guys glanced at us. “I wasn’t talking about the pizza toppings, Autumn.” She rolled her eyes. “I think the smoking-hot husband you brought back from Vegas is a sign of your good taste.”
“He used to be your husband’s student,” I whispered.
“He’s definitely not a kid anymore.”
“Nope.”
All day, I’d been smiling and nodding when coworkers congratulated me. They gushed over his looks and my ring. My hand had been yanked several times so the ring could be inspected. I’d had a minor heart attack when I’d gotten acrylic paint on the diamond.
The kids were the biggest relief to be around. After five minutes and a few questions, mostly about whether I’d won a ton of money in Vegas, my marriage was forgotten.
Now that husband was here. He hadn’t told me why, and I didn’t care. Seeing him in jeans and a hoodie was all my libido cared about. Waking up to him for the last three days was hell on my hormones.
Kerry gave me a sidelong look. “Is it weird for you? To suddenly be married? I thought you and Mark might have a thing.”
Mark—Mr. Knutson at work—had been overly formal with me, only brusquely telling me to give my documents to Kaitlyn.
“Yes.” The first honest thing I’d said all day—other than agreeing with Gideon’s looks. “It’s one thing to get caught up in the idea and another when he’s here. In my home. At my work.”
The guys were hauling the plywood wall next to the risers, otherwise I would’ve kept my mouth shut.
She patted my shoulder. “Well, it looks like you got a considerate one.”
“It’s also weird that people know him.” He was still a stranger to me.
“None of us know him.” She grabbed another slice of pizza. “We’ve just heard of him,” she said around a big mouthful.
Same.
Both guys turned and faced us. Joseph grinned. He didn’t have to say how delighted he was to be working with a former student. “Time to hang our colony of bats.”
I gathered the cutouts of bats the students had made. Kerry got the tacks and Joseph found some string.
Gideon appeared at my side. I was trying to get a bat toward the top. He slipped the decoration from my hands and stuck a tack in it toward the top. His chest was pressed to my back and his scent surrounded me.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“No problem.”
We hadn’t had time to talk since he’d arrived. “Why did you come?”
“You weren’t home.” He said it so simply.
“Okay?”
This time, the line of his jaw hardened. “You didn’t tell me why.”
“I thought you heard me tell your dad.” When his right eye twitched—because he hadn’t been paying attention?—I continued. “I’ll go to the bar tomorrow after work, and the program is Thursday night. I’ll probably stay at school until it starts.”
He didn’t respond. But he did help put the unexpected set together.
Since I’d lectured him about being rude, I could be considerate. “Would you like to come?”
He blinked. “Sure. Why not?” He made it sound so casual I bit back a smile. I doubted he would’ve come without an invite, but he sounded like he had wanted to. “I might have to buy a car while I’m here.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have a vehicle when you’re at work.”
Oh. Wait— “You walked here?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“How long did you wait on the curb before you realized a car wasn’t going to magically appear?”
His gaze intensified and then the corner of his mouth lifted. “I promise it wasn’t more than an hour.” He tipped his head. “Would it surprise you I didn’t have to ask for directions?”
I snorted. “I bet a lot of women stopped and gave them to you anyway.”
His laugh was deep.
I grinned. “I just have to put all my stuff away, and then I can give you a ride home.”
He came with me without asking. I loaded my empty buckets that had once held carefully crafted bats and pumpkins my students had worked on all afternoon. Another bucket of staplers, tape, string, and paints was next.
Gideon pushed the cart. In my classroom, I put everything away and he wandered around.
“Is it weird to work in the same place you went to school?” he asked.
“Yes and no. When I first started, it was intimidating to work with people like Joseph. He’s always excited when an old student starts working here though.”
He roamed through my class. I felt exposed, like I’d lifted my blouse and was flashing him as he strolled through my life’s work.
“Why elementary?” he asked.
“I’ve always liked kids. I watched Mama take care of them my entire life, and I guess I wanted to pay it forward. The high school can get crowded some years, you know, with the middle school stuffed into one wing.” Bourbon Canyon was too small for three separate buildings and infrastructure.
He approached. I’d already put my office supplies in their place, but I moved the stapler from one side of the computer to the other.
“That’s not the only reason.” He stopped at the edge of my desk.
I tried to picture him as a little kid, saying Miss K at least three times while leaning over the papers I was grading to get my attention.
My heart melted. The cowlick he kept brushed in place, trimmed at just the right length to weigh it down, had probably stood on end when he was young.
“Let me rephrase my original question. Why teaching?”
How had he known I wasn’t telling him everything? I stabbed at the pens in my penholder until they all sat evenly on the bottom instead of sticking up at different heights. “I wanted something of my own.”
“You have something of your own though, don’t you?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “What do you mean?”
“Your dad gave you all a portion of the ranch.”
“Some land,” I clarified. “So yes, I get rent from letting my brothers use the pasture, but not much. Most of it isn’t fit for livestock.”
“You wanted more to call your own.”
I gnawed on the raw spot of my cheek. I released my flesh before I could bleed and pressed my fingers into the top of my desk. “I freely admit I suffered from middle-kid syndrome.”
He snorted. “There’re a lot of middle kids in your family.”
“True. But Summer’s the oldest of the girls. The guys deferred to her.”
He cocked a brow. His expression was a few shades shy of arrogant. “Just because she’s the oldest?”
He knew to dig where it was most sensitive. “Yes and no. When we arrived at the Baileys’ after our parents’ accident, Summer and I were both recovering. I took longer with the broken bones, and I guess I always felt like I was the one they had to watch out for.”
I pushed my hands through my hair. Guilt ate at my insides. “I’m really useless to you. God, I should’ve been less evasive—”
His sharp laugh echoed in the otherwise empty building. “You call the deal you made with me in my bed after our wedding evasive?”
“You thought I had more authority over my family.”
He let out a long breath, his solid green gaze never leaving my face. “Perhaps we both hoped you did. It’s the marriage I need, Autumn. I can commiserate with not feeling heard when it comes to family.”
The lonely boy in him had never been louder. What his dad was doing had hurt him. “I wish I could help you more.”
“Likewise. The idea of kids . . .” There was a brief glimpse of stark fear.
The dream that I’d be a married mom with a good job took its last breath. I couldn’t do that to him. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hold you to it.”
“Autumn—”
“No, it’s fine. Really. I don’t want to get so focused on having babies that I run over people. You’ve already said you wouldn’t ditch a kid, so we’d have to figure out custody. The thought obviously bothers you, so I’m not forcing your end of the deal. The thought gives me the ick.”
His brow arched again. “The ick?”
“You’d be surprised how young kids are when they pick up slang. I’ve learned the floss and heard a kindergartner tell me I’m sus, no cap.”
“I have no idea what that last sentence meant.”
“The floss is a dance move that I can only do in slow motion before I pull a back muscle. Sus is suspicious. No cap means no lie.”
“Was she suspicious of your floss?”
“Basically, yes.”
A low chuckle came from him, and his smile would’ve incinerated my panties right off if it weren’t for the heavy topic we’d just discussed.