Chapter 7
Callie
Ichanged my outfit four times this morning.
Four times. The last time I did that was …
well, never. But those four little texts this morning reminded me that Friday night really happened.
That this could really be happening. That I, Calloway Leora Rutherford, might have a fighting chance to change the way my family sees me.
Maybe.
Unknown Number:
Are you allergic to anything at Sandra’s Sammies? It’s on the way, so I thought I’d stop there and grab us some food.
This is Oliver.
Rhodes. I got your number from John’s classroom parent phone number sheet. To be fair, I did have to bribe him with donuts.
I always bring my lunch, but thanks for asking. See you soon.
See you soon, Ms. Rutherford.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a mini panic attack standing in my bathroom wearing outfit number three.
Because let’s be honest, a kindergarten teacher can only look so fancy without drawing attention.
And not even from the other staff. If the kids think something’s off, they’ll have no reservations about telling me to my face.
This is coming from a woman who once had a student say my tropical print skirt looked like thrown up candy.
Seriously, zero filters around here.
So, take kids with no brain-to-mouth filters and add one lunch date in my chaotic classroom with a man who is stupidly handsome and going to pretend to be my boyfriend at my family’s Thanksgiving, and what do you get?
One frazzled teacher in her only pair of actual work pants and a brand new green sweater that’s already covered with a giant hot cocoa stain.
Thankfully, my name badge covers most of the chocolatey blob.
Oh, and let’s not forget how my curling iron decided to quit working halfway through doing my hair, which is now in one very full ballet bun.
Lunch is only ten minutes away and counting, and dot tokens are absolutely everywhere as I attempt the world’s most chaotic cleanup. On the tables, on the floor. Stuck to Jack’s shirt, thanks to a booger he graciously showed me, and in Maria’s pigtails. And that’s just the ones I can see.
Checking one of the last two tables and their cleanup progress, a soft knock raps on the classroom door.
Panic wastes no time shooting through my nervous system.
Relax, Callie. It’s probably just a literacy coach.
Or the janitor. But a thorned vine winds itself through my ribcage, thoroughly attuned to who waits on the other side of the door.
I guess that’s just what happens when one gets a fake boyfriend.
Outwardly, I scoff at my own wishful thinking that it could be literally anyone else.
“Ms. Rutherford, there’s someone at the door!” And there goes any remaining zen I’ve managed to gather this morning. Jameson should really be some kind of commentator when he grows up.
Anna giggles into her hand beside me. “He looks like my daddy.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” I mumble, steeling myself to turn around and face who I know waits on the other side of the door.
Sure enough, through the glass paneling, there stands Dr. Oliver Rhodes suppressing a grin.
“Flipper nuggets,” I whisper. Marching toward the door with as much confidence as I can muster, I will myself not to take in Dr. Rhodes and all of his obscene handsomeness.
It’s a lot easier than I anticipated thanks to the dark brown overcoat he’s wearing.
Of course, the reflection in his round glasses shows that I’m not lying to myself quite as well as I’d like to believe.
But his soft smile makes me extremely aware that eighteen pairs of eyes from tiny humans are glued to my back. In fact, I think it’s the quietest my class has ever been.
Opening the door, a subtle hint of sandalwood wafts into the classroom.
Too bad this is the worst time for a drool check.
Some kind of delicious food in a tan takeaway bag distracts me enough to remind me that the poor guy is still just standing in the doorway.
“Hey, come on in,” I say as casually as possible.
Though it probably sounds like a train just ran over my foot.
Rhodes looks past me at our audience. Amused eyes slide back to mine, brows raising.
“Don’t worry about them,” I laugh, “they have lunch in a few minutes. Why don’t you go hang out at my desk while we finish up?” I point to my corner sanctuary, which I did try to clean up a bit this morning.
‘Try’ being the operative word.
“Oliver!” Cici McNalley shrieks. Jumping up from her table, the sweetest girl in the world hurls herself across the room in record time, before throwing tiny arms around his waist.
The man tosses his free arm around her shoulder in a tight embrace. “Hey, Cici.” Releasing her, he crouches down so that he’s eye-level. “Have you made your dad any new drawings today? With extra glitter?” He sends a knowing look my way.
But my favorite student clearly has her own agenda. “Why are you here?”
Dr. Rhodes chuckles. “I came to have lunch with your teacher.”
“Are you friends?”
A secretive smile threatens to overtake the man’s face. “You could say that.”
Cheeks heating, I turn back to help the other kids finish getting ready for lunch. Though, it’s really to ignore whatever Dr. Rhodes is telling Cici.
Not a moment too soon, Mrs. Fairchild and her class knock on the door to pick up my kids and take them to the cafeteria.
I don’t miss the double take she does to the good doctor sitting at my desk. Not that I blame her.
“C’mon, Cici,” I call to the little girl holding on tight to his neck.
Cici whispers something in his ear before snatching a pink lunchbox from her cubby and bounding to the line of students leaving without her.
Shutting the door behind them, my classroom is now a vacuum, and I am instantly aware of how very alone Dr. Rhodes and I are. Turning back toward my desk, I find the man of the hour sitting in a student chair about eighty sizes too small, across the desk from mine.
Having shed the overcoat, the man sits there like a modern Greek god in his black slacks and tan sweater. With a paper napkin on one leg, he unpacks a sandwich and chips from the bag marked Sandra’s Sammies, while a soda sits already opened beside it.
“I didn’t know you wear glasses,” I blurt out.
Dr. Rhodes pauses, subconsciously readjusting the thin gold frames. “You’ve only seen me twice,” he shrugs. “There’s no way you could have known, unless you’re able to divine optometrical records.”
“Not currently. But it’s next on my list of useless gifts to learn.”
Rolling his lips in, the man nods. “What are you currently working on?”
“What?”
“You said it was next, which means there’s some other impractical talent you’re trying to learn.”
“Huh,” I say, looking back over my shoulder. Gotta double check I don’t have an audience for this meeting of the minds. “Uh, then I guess it’d be how to not have my curling iron die mid-curl.”
I turn back just in time to watch his eyes flick up toward my hair. “You’d pick that over mastering how to never spill your coffee?” he grins.
So he definitely noticed the stain. Pressing my lips together, I take a deep breath.
“Cocoa. It’s an ongoing project,” I answer, much to his amusement.
My stilted laugh sounds more like I’m being choked as he attempts to readjust in his tiny chair.
“Why don’t you take my seat? It’ll be much more comfortable for you and all your tall … ness.”
The man lifts a thick honey brow before shaking his head. “No, thanks. I’m good here.” He beams. “Besides, it’s my turn to be in your office.”
Crossing my arms, I snort. “Look, if you stay in that chair, you’ll have cramps by the end of this.
Then you’ll be stuck here until maintenance can come and unstick your butt from it.
With the holiday approaching, that could be days.
And if that’s the case, you’ll be worthless to me.
” Shrugging, I do my best to appear nonchalant and not show the extreme panic boiling below the surface about how this stupidly hot man is supposed to be my pretend boyfriend in no less than four days.
In front of my entire family.
Oh, and I’m going to be his pretend girlfriend for his family too. Let’s not forget that fun little tidbit.
Dr. Rhodes narrows his annoyingly striking eyes, considering it. Finally, logic wins out.
Or the fear of being left here over Thanksgiving break without snacks.
It takes him longer to get out of the chair than it should, but when he does plop himself down on my adult-size swivel chair, his relief is apparent. “Your classroom is about how I pictured it.”
“How’s that?” I ask absently while I focus on reaching to the cabinet above him for a stashed lunchbox. Plant-themed, of course. But it’s more to ignore how close my boobs have to get to his face mid-reach.
I don’t miss how he tenses at maximum boob-closeness.
My face flames as the stupid lunchbox decides to choose today of all days to play Keep Away.
Thankfully, the good doctor recovers quickly. “Colorful, warm. Chaotic. A little noisy.” His point is exacerbated by a flinch as I scoot the tiny chair closer to the desk.
“The chaos would happen with or without my help. That’s more thanks to the eighteen children I have running rampant in here five days a week.”
“Of course.”
“So … you’ve been picturing my classroom, huh?” Taking a bite of salad, I do my best to not be envious of the mouthwatering sandwich in his hands. Why, oh why, did I have to be polite when he offered food this morning? A sandwich from Sandra’s Sammies would always be better than some dumb salad.
Swallowing, he grins. “Remember, I need to know as much about you as possible. What with you being my girlfriend, and all.”
“Fake girlfriend.”
Rhodes shrugs. “No one knows that. Except John, Rindy and Joanna.”
“And Ian.”
His lips tip down. “Your friend from the bar?”