Roped In (Castlebrook Ranch #1)

Chapter 1

Kayla

Okay, a truth and a lie—extreme edition.

Can you guess the truth?

Heaving a sigh, I shake out my nerves, probably looking like a complete idiot in Castlebrook Elementary’s school parking lot.

Flipping the visor down in my beat-up 2002 Chevy Malibu, it falls off the hook and into my lap. I try not to take it as a bad omen. She’s just an old car, and she’s been through a lot. We’re all a little broken deep down, anyway.

Holding up the busted visor like a cosmetics mirror, I adjust the strands of hair that have slipped out of my French plait. You look good, you feel good, I remind myself. Just like wearing your best lingerie on a first date, even when you know it’s never gonna see the light of day.

It’s just like every other first day of school. Except this time, I’m the adult. This time, I’m responsible for all the little ones.

Nope, not nervous at all.

Starting the school year three months before summer isn’t ideal, but when the job listing popped up in my email, and the location stated it was a twelve-hour drive from my brother’s house, I jumped at the opportunity.

Castlebrook, Montana, is in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

The closest town over is Malta, Montana—another unknown, obscure town. It’s perfect.

My meeting with the principal starts in 10 minutes, so I haul ass out of my car, using the key to lock the car cause the fob doesn’t work anymore, and I essentially sprint to the front office.

I’m here only an hour before school starts, but supposedly, the other teacher left some plans for the next few days, along with some resources, so I can have a few days to get ready.

She had to leave unexpectedly—a broken hip—so I didn’t get much notice when they phoned and said I got the job.

I didn’t even have an interview. They just asked for a copy of my degree, a background check, and a void cheque.

Some might take it as a red flag. I take it as a sign.

“Hi, I’m here to see Mr. Alvarez?” I smile at the older lady behind the front desk, wondering if this might be one of my new friends in town.

“What is this regarding?” She asks, typing away at her computer. Her glasses slip down on her nose, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’m the replacement for Mrs. Cannon.” This earns me a skeptical look over said glasses. She eyes me up and down, taking in my floral dress and cream cardigan.

“Aren’t you a little young to be a teacher?”

“I’m twenty-four,” I answer instinctively, flinching away from the scrutiny.

I mean, I get it, I know I look young, but is it really appropriate to ask someone about their qualifications?

Or their age? I’m sure she wouldn’t like it if I asked if she gets a senior discount at the local grocery store.

“Right. Well, you can head right in. He’s waiting.”

Could’ve started with that instead of questioning me, but alrighty then.

Keeping my smile firmly plastered on my face, I knock on the door with the right name tag and wait for his permission to enter.

Creaking the door open, I step in hesitantly.

“Mr. Alvarez?” The short, balding man sits behind his desk, but he stands as I walk in.

“Hi, I’m Kayla Carson. I’m Mrs. Cannon’s replacement. ”

“Yes! Of course!” Reaching across his desk, he shakes my hand enthusiastically. “We are so happy to have you, Kayla. And we really appreciate you taking this position at the last minute.”

“Oh, I’m happy to,” my smile shifts into something slightly more genuine. Harry Alvarez is much more welcoming than the receptionist out there.

“Let me walk you down to your classroom, and we can talk about what the plan is for the next few months.”

“Great!” Shifting my bag higher onto my shoulder, I follow him out of the front office and down the hallway.

My room is the last one on the left, just before the doors leading into the gym.

Across the hall are the doors leading out to the playground.

It’s a really small school, maybe 10 classrooms in total.

Eight in this hallway, and two upstairs.

Those two are being used for storage at the moment, I’m told.

Harry informs me that roughly 100 students are attending the school from kindergarten to sixth grade.

My class, the second graders, has 15 students.

“Now, Mrs. Cannon is retiring, spurred on by her injury. She said you can keep what you want and toss the rest. She has no use for it anymore.” Letting me walk into the room first, I take it all in.

One corner holds an electric smartboard on wheels, with a carpet rolled out in front of it.

The desks are facing the whiteboard in rows.

Kids' shoes sit on top of each desk. The back wall is lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with craft supplies and binders.

And then there’s my desk. It sits at the front of the room, tucked into the corner and facing the students. A single computer monitor sits alone on top of the desk. Otherwise, the classroom is empty. Gloomy looking.

There are no posters on the wall. No decorations on the bulletin boards. No student artwork. It’s kind of just sad and dreary.

Dropping my bag under my desk, my mind is already making plans on how to make the room a little livelier. Kids think school is a prison enough as it is—let’s not make it look like one, too.

“You can do what you want with the room, but it will be at your own expense. You get paid once a month, on the tenth. This is your division email.” He hands me a Post-it note with scribbled writing on it.

“You’ll need to reset your password when you first log in.

I have already emailed the plans for the next three days to you.

As of Thursday, you’ll be required to make your own.

” He rubs his chin, thinking for a moment.

“Ah, yes. The second graders are currently doing their swim unit. They go to the pool every Monday morning from 9:00 to 9:45. You are required to go with them, of course. The pool is just a five-minute walk away. I will accompany you next Monday, but afterwards, you will be expected to go on your own. Please do not let the students drown.”

“Um, I’m not actually required to teach them how to swim, am I?” I hesitate. I never learned how to swim, so that might not be a good idea.

“Of course not. That’s Delia and Kyle’s job.”

“Right.” Of course not. How foolish of me.

I don’t know who Kyle or Delia are, but I brush it off. I’m sure I’ll figure it out on Monday.

“Bell rings at 8:32, and announcements start at 8:35. It is expected that you submit attendance no later than 8:45. You use the same login information as your email. Your staff ID will be in your mailbox at the end of the day—that’s in the office.

You can stay parked in guest parking for today, but tomorrow park in stall 6. Are there any questions?”

“Uh, is there a staff bathroom?”

“It’s in the staffroom, straight through the office towards the back. Is that all?”

“Sure,” my brain short-circuits, and I can’t even think of my own name as he stares at me expectantly. I think if I do have any more questions, he might fire me.

“If you need anything at all, dial 1000, and Rosemary will help you. Good luck with your first day.”

And just like that, Harry Alvarez is bustling away, and I’m left alone in my new classroom, reeling from the SparkNotes lesson to teaching.

Nothing like being tossed to the flames on your first day at a new job. I guess it’s up to me to figure this all out. How bad could it be?