Chapter 16 Janie
SIXTEEN
Janie
“Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year.” Rourke delivers the line like he’s reading a prescription bottle, then immediately drops the script with visible disgust. “No. This line has got to go.”
It’s the one line I refused to cut from the show because I believe it. And Rourke is completely decimating it. “Um, try again?” I suggest from the front row of the auditorium. “Maybe with a little more enthusiasm this time?”
His expression doesn’t change. “This is me being enthusiastic.”
Rourke isn’t making this easy on me. “Then at least make an effort? You look like you’re having a root canal.”
“A root canal would be preferable,” he mutters. He waves the pages in the air. “Maybe we could add some sarcasm? I’m very good at sarcasm.”
Despite everything, I almost smile back.
“He doesn’t sound like Santa at all,” Lily announces, fists on her hips. “Santa’s supposed to actually like Christmas.”
“That’s because I’m not Santa,” Rourke corrects. “I’m Saint Nicholas now.”
“Who’s that?” Emmalynn asks, eyeing him suspiciously. “And what did you do with Santa?”
“I didn’t do anything with Santa because Santa’s not even—”
“Here today!” I practically yell, my teacher instincts kicking into overdrive before Rourke can traumatize my entire class by telling them Santa’s not real.
“He’s just tired from all the toy-making.
Instead, we’re telling a story about a generous man who helped children,” I add quickly, shooting Rourke a warning glare.
To my relief, the kids seem to accept this answer.
He shrugs, looking uncomfortable in the too-small costume we scrounged up—an ill-fitting jacket straining across his broad shoulders and a red Santa hat because I haven’t found a better option yet.
“Okay, let’s try a different approach,” I say, moving closer to the edge of the stage. “You need to feel the character. Christmas is about joy and hope and…”
“Presents!” Emmalynn says.
“Well, yes,” I say. “But more than that, think about what kids like other than presents.” I turn to Rourke. “What do you think?”
He furrows his brow, thinking about it. “Um…no school?”
The children giggle, and I resist the urge to throw my pencil at him. “Rourke, be serious.”
“I am being serious,” he says. “Kids love Christmas break.”
“What about family?” I join the cast on the stage. “It’s about love and people caring about each other…” I stop myself from saying more, remembering that Rourke’s Christmas memories were never like that.
Rourke glances away for just a second too long before he catches himself. “This is why Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year…” And then he pastes on a grin for the students. “Because of no school!”
The children erupt into cheers.
I move directly in front of him and mutter, “You’re being a pain in my you-know-what.”
He smirks. “No, I really don’t know what. Please enlighten me, Ms. Bennett.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop thinking too much, especially about your past. Just feel it.” Without thinking, I press my hand to his chest, right over his heart. The second we connect, something shifts, and an unmistakable current passes between us.
His gaze locks on mine, darker now. “Oh, I feel it,” he says, his voice low.
I pull my hand back quickly. That wasn’t meant to be a moment. Especially not in front of the kids.
Lily glances between us. “Is there love in this pageant?”
“No,” I say quickly, whirling around. All the kids are watching now, which means I’m going to be fielding questions about this for weeks.
“I’m just giving Mr. Rourke an acting lesson,” I clarify, my cheeks burning.
“Are you gonna kiss, then?” Preston asks bluntly. “My mom loves shows with kissing.”
“That’s not even in the script,” I say, frowning.
“You know,” Rourke says with an amused grin. “We could add that part.”
“Absolutely not!” I shoot back, my face flaming.
“I’m not sure why you wouldn’t want to add it, actually,” Rourke suggests with a wicked smirk that I’ve grown to like too much. He crosses his arms, casually leaning against a set piece, looking like the hottest not-Santa I’ve ever seen. “Hallmark makes a lot of money on their kissing movies.”
Then he grins at me, and darn him, it launches a flock of butterflies in my stomach. Never mind that we have an audience of pint-sized recorders or that I’m supposed to be the director instead of getting caught up in…whatever this is.
“I appreciate the suggestion, but…”
I’m cut off by a knock on the door of the auditorium. I whirl around to see David Peterson, a fourth-grade teacher, poking his head inside.
“Hey, Janie!” he says with his usual eager smile.
“Hi, David.” I wave for him to come in—because I’d pay good money for a distraction right now. Anything to get us off the topic of kissing.
Plus, David is what I would call unequivocally safe. Almost too nice. He’s the guy who volunteers for every school committee and remembers to ask how you’re doing. He’s professionally stable, polite to a fault, and has never once made me lose my train of thought by just looking at me.
In other words, the exact opposite of the man currently standing in front of me.
“I was hoping to catch you.” His gaze flicks to Rourke and then to me, a flash of uncertainty passing over it.
I turn to the kids and announce, “Take a five-minute break, everyone,” before hopping off the stage.
“What’s up?” I ask casually, ignoring Rourke’s blatant stare as I approach my coworker.
David shoves his hands into the pockets of his neatly ironed khakis. “I want to talk to you about the staff Christmas party Friday night. Are you going?”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, my stomach suddenly churning. “Uh, yeah. I’ll be at the party.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Rourke is still glaring at us. He’s not even pretending not to eavesdrop, which makes me more annoyed. I shift my stance, angling myself so David blocks him from view. But Rourke adjusts just enough to be in my line of sight.
“Would you like to go together?” David asks quickly. “You know, if you don’t have other plans.”
A small movement catches my attention as Rourke’s fingers slowly clench into fists.
“Um…I guess,” I say, acutely aware that Rourke is staring at the back of David’s head.
“Perfect.” David gives me a wide smile, then lays a hand on my arm—and I swear I hear Rourke growl under his breath. “I’ll pick you up around six thirty?”
“Sure. Looking forward to it!”
Lies. I’d rather cancel the entire pageant than go to that party with David.
“See you then, Director.” David gives me a stiff wave before leaving—the type you might give your boss, not your date for the Christmas party.
It’s obvious to anyone watching that David is completely harmless. But tell that to the man in the Santa hat who’s plotting David’s demise.
“Sorry for the interruption, everyone,” I call out, pretending that Rourke isn’t a walking volcano about to erupt. “Could we start where we left off before Mr. Peterson came in?”
“Wait.” Jack’s brow crinkles in confusion. “Do you have two boyfriends now?”
I blink, turning toward the kids. “I don’t have any boyfriends.”
“It’s called a love triangle, Jack,” Lily corrects, ignoring my statement.
“It is not a love triangle,” I say, slightly offended now. “And how do you even know what a love triangle is?”
“I heard my mom talk about it once,” Lily answers matter-of-fact.
“Well, Mr. Peterson is just a friend,” I clarify.
“If he’s a friend,” Emmalynn notes, “then why is Mr. Rourke mad?” She points at the man playing Saint Nicholas, whose jaw is clenched so tight I’m surprised the muscle doesn’t pop.
“I don’t know, why don’t you ask Mr. Rourke?” I mutter, hoping this will end the conversation so we can finish rehearsal.
Nobody moves. They’re all too scared to ask, except for Lily. “Mr. Rourke, you look like you want to punch something.”
“I’m fine,” Rourke growls. He’s not even trying to hide his disdain for David. His face is a mixture of fury and something distinctly un-jolly. There’s no way we’re going to make progress on the pageant now.
I throw up my hands in exasperation. “All right, everyone, let’s call it quits for today. Your parents are waiting in the lobby after you sign out.” The kids run off the stage, gathering their backpacks before heading out of the auditorium.
Emmalynn and Lily glance over their shoulders at Rourke before approaching me.
“Are you going to practice with Mr. Rourke again, Ms. Bennett?” Emmalynn asks timidly. “Because he needs it. He’s the worst Santa ever.”
Before I can correct her about Rourke not playing Santa, Lily leans toward me like she has a secret. “Maybe you should practice the kissing part. It might cheer him up.”
I take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of my nose before answering. “I’m pretty sure that would only make things worse.”
After the last child leaves, I clean up the stage hoping Rourke will leave too.
As I pick up a stray ornament, Rourke stops behind me. “So, Peterson, huh? That’s your type?”
I whirl around, giving him a cool look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Safe. Boring.” He doesn’t seem amused. “Probably discusses lesson plans over dinner.”
“David is a nice man,” I say defensively. “And a reliable coworker.”
“Reliable, huh?” He plays with the Santa hat in his hands. “Does he talk about grading rubrics for fun? School discipline policy at dinner? Is that what really turns you on?”
“Of course not!” I say, irritated that he’s pressing so hard about this. “And what do you care anyway?”
“I don’t.” He toys with the hat, his gaze dropping for just a second too long.
He’s lying.
“Because it’s not a date, right?” he says, showing a crack in his very solid armor. “Just colleagues hanging out?”
“It’s…” Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what it is, or even what David’s intentions might be. He’s always been friendly—I just hadn’t thought that much about it. “He’s just a friend.”