The Teacher's Hayride with the Hometown Baller

CHAPTER ONE

ZACK

Broomcorn Hollow’s main street was filled with pumpkin spice and all things spooky-time nice.

Jack-o’-lanterns and seasonal decor haunted every corner and despite that September hadn’t seen its last days yet.

This weekend’s night markets weren’t due to start until after sunset but all along the street, overshadowing the regular stores, vendors set up popup shops.

By the time darkness pervaded my small town, flavored coffee, fortune teller stalls and spiced apple treats plus others would overflow the area every night this week until this month ran into the next.

It might be a long time before Haunted-ween – fine, Halloween – Broomcorn Hollow was a little town, but the turnout this year, as every year, would be spectacular.

I wound my way through the mini crowd gathering around the front of Audrey's Bakehouse. For all regular, unspiced coffees, my sister’s was still the best. I pushed that news out to everyone who asked.

The tiny shop bell rang above my head as I ducked into her store that was already packed.

I swore half the town gaggled about outside, getting in early for the spooky treats as though we hadn’t been preparing for this week, our annual pre-run up to October when the town’s official attack—ahem, decorative shrine—to Halloween truly began.

And if most of Broomcorn Hollow wandered about outside or were setting up their stalls in Main Street, then the rest were stuffed into Audrey’s bakery, collecting a different sort of sweets.

She created monsters year-round, albeit from the pastry store.

Audrey waved to me across the counter, her eyes flaring wide as she mouthed my name.

Well, I thought she mouthed my name. Honestly, it could have been anything. I couldn’t really hear anything over the hubbub inside the bakery.

"Zach! Hold the door," she shouted, her voice. barely audible above the din.

I caught a few words though a momentary lull as chatter filled every corner.

The population seemed intent on staying here for the day, the parts of it that had come in for warmth, in any case.

Our small town hosted exactly one diner, one butcher, one bakery, one gas pump and one school.

We didn't really have much of an option for anything else.

The entire town name population was less than three thousand gossip mongered souls on a regular day, but come Spookyville’s time of the year, we were flooded with tourists galore, thanks to Broomcorn’s self-appointed marketing genius who brought in scads of tourism trade.

All of it brewed from our love of all things Halloween.

That was fine – if it meant that I could make my way to the counter.

Coffee called, and I was done with training for the morning.

I twisted and nodded my way around the few customers who dashed out the door, trying to make room, but I had to duck to get in.

Just as I thought I was in the clear, something hit me dead center in the stomach. Or maybe the chest.

Kind of all of that, with a huge dose of warmth.

Something blonde, five-foot-five inches, give or take, and travelling faster than any person had a right to when in a bakery that smelled this good. Breath whooshed out of my chest as the blonde—something muttered, “Sorry!” and kept right on charging.

Right at the doorframe I managed to avoid a second before.

I gripped gently curved arms and pulled her around to face me, letting my shoulders collide with the sharp, hardwood edge instead of her pretty face.

Shock registered there in parted lips as I semi-doubled over, and came face-to-face with the widest, periwinkle blue eyes I had ever seen.

“Hey. Are you okay?” I wheezed. Air went out but refused to come back into my lungs. I shuffled sideways as several more people entered the bakery. I swore the place would collapse soon from the excess of customers.

The woman didn't seem to notice or be bothered by the over populated space. “Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry.” She freed her arms and backed up, only to be pushed toward me by the swell of people crammed into the small space. “Massive apologies, thanks so much. See you later –"

A million words tumbled out her mouth almost at the same time as they jumbled together. I struggled to decipher them all as she dusted herself off and darted around me.

“Wait, take it easy. It’s manic out there,” I called the caution after her. Okay, so by small town standards it was busy.

My blonde mishap ignored me completely and rocketed along the sidewalk, dodging passersby as though they were standing still.

I straightened, bemused as her shadow dashed away and disappeared into the growing gloom outside.

My height took me well above head height for most of the patrons in the store.

A good thing as I could actually see the counter from where I stood, and waved at my sister.

Audrey glared at me, her sugar-dusted hands planted firmly on her hips. "Zack Dawson. Did you just run into the town’s one and only Australian resident?"

I shook my head. So that's what that mangled string of verbs had been. "I guess so?” I made it to the counter, grinning as she placed a scalding, oversized takeaway coffee in my hand. “Hey, did you hear we have a new Teach for the university in the next town?"

Audrey blew out a hard breath. "Yes," she emphasized. "And you," —she poked the counter to finger into the middle of my chest, right where my Aussie calamity crashed into me— “Just ran into her, you a big baller."

I frowned "I did what?" Pivoting, I stared through the painted glass shop window to relocate the blonde haired, blue eyed woman who chattered at me like a chipmunk and darted away, but she was long gone. I turned back to face my sister. "That's the new teacher?"

Audrey nodded. "Enjoy your spiced latte, Zack," she said drily. “Will you be around all week?”

“I’ve got a game at the college on the weekend. But I can help out if you need me. Just let me know,” I reassured her.

“Hmmm.” She eyed me. “There’s a few chores on the big fridge out the back.”

I grinned. “Always a pleasure." I headed on back to help out as I’d promised, but my mind was on the woman with the Aussie accent passed me without a spark of recognition. Maybe she hadn’t been around long enough to know people in town yet, but not being fawned over for once was an… unusual experience.

I wasn’t sure if I should be hellbent on changing that, or pleased to have a break.

Someone needed to show the new teacher around town, especially if she was staying here and not at the neighboring town’s college.

I’d heard that Halloween looked different down under, and Broomcorn Hollow did it best. And after all as a local, if minor, celebrity, surely that was my duty.

Audrey's hand in the middle of my back propelled me towards the rear door of the bakery, refocusing my senses. "Eyes off the teacher, and back in the game, little bro,” she clucked at me.

"I think I have a different game in mind than what you do."

The kitchen door banged shut, leaving me outside the bakery, bereft of both coffee and delicious scents. I stood with my hands outstretched, wondering for a moment how I got here, then shook my head. One teacher, a distracting crowd of customers and a brewing Halloween fantasy, apparently.

Besides, I didn't want to upset my sister.

I liked my constant supply of coffee—that currently stood on the other side of the door—and when I wasn't training for basketball, I enjoyed helping her out. She’d nailed a short sheer short list of chores to the back of the door, starting with trash which was underlined in heavy black marker.

A short laugh escaped me. Okay. Menial stuff, I could do if that was what she needed.

And on the other front… I had this. There was the match I still had to play against varsity.

Maybe the new teacher would be in attendance.

That meant I had plenty of time to wrangle myself an invitation into her life.

Take her for a tour around Broomcorn Hollow as we ramped up for the touristy season.

Maybe do some of the foodie stuff. Hopefully she liked coffee.

Flavors always ramped up at the end of September.

Now I just had to work out the when and the where of finding our town’s newest resident without becoming the local stalker instead of Broomcorn’s jock…

And earn myself a different sort of label.

"Eye on the ball. Mind off the girl. What the hell is that?" I reached out but missed grabbing the ball by inches.

Not my best practice. Framing the lost opportunity as a fake, I posed in action but Coach wasn't buying it.

"If you keep that up, you'll be benched on Friday night," he snapped.

Well, that wouldn’t do. I dropped the pose and fell in next to Jordan, keeping up with his pace, and the relative peace.

We were a few steps into setting up the next play before I spoke up. "Your sister studies at the university, right?"

Jordan never took his eyes off the ball he dribbled. "Yeah. But she won't date a joker like you."

I shook my head, not letting his barb land. "Not interested." I realized how that sounded. "Ah, I'm sure she's wonderful.” Someone nearby winced. I ignored that, too. “What does she study?"

"Education. She wants to be an elementary teacher."

“Perfect,” I murmured to myself. That was exactly what our new teacher, Hazel Templeton, taught on the same campus.

It didn’t take much to learn about her. Broomcorn wasn’t just famous for our love of all things spooky season.

We also loved to talk. Preferably about whatever was newest in town. Or who.

Jordan glanced sideways at me. "Are we playing ball or what?" he snarked.

I took a hard pass to the chest for my efforts.

Pretending not to be winded as fuck, I worked my way up the court, dodging my own team as I played against the reserve squad for practice.

The player who marked me, Bison – because the boy was as big as one – raised his arms and snarled in my face as though it was game day.

"You're not getting through…"

I stared him straight in the eyes, not letting a single flicker of emotion through to the younger, fierce man. "No intention of that," I said softly.

I raised my arms and shot straight over his head. I didn't need to check to know the shot went in. It felt good coming out of my hands and Coach’s soft grumble as the ball bounced for the first time saved my ass.

Jordan's slap on my shoulder gave me hope.

“All right. You’ve redeemed yourself. But you don't touch my sister," he added, his eyes wary.

"No intention of that either."

“Uh huh.” He dribbled the ball around me, his gaze still cautious.

Okay, so I might have had a rep. But I wasn’t that sort of a baller. The string of broken hearts littering my wake were mine, not theirs. My score card for picking out which girl was interested in the person and not the player ran in the negatives column, at least on my side.

“I'm planning on–" I shut my mouth as Jordan sent me another look, and shrugged. Airing my scheme to give the new teacher town tour suddenly seemed like a bad idea.

“He’s sweet on the new international ship in.” Feldsman bounded past us, a shit eating grin on his face.

Jordan rocked back on his heels. "Looks like I don't have to worry about my sister after all."

Well, that was unfortunate. I rumbled with Feldsman good-naturedly as Jordan passed the ball. A good thing as it was the distraction I needed from the stinging tension that arced across my chest at the thought of another date that headed nowhere.

I forced a smile. "I'm gonna shoot my shot."

He raised both eyebrows. “With the teacher?"

Feldsman hissed breath through his teeth as I kneed him in ribs when he shoved at me, taking us halfway to the ground. "Good luck. Alice can barely understand her question.” He rolled a shoulder when I started. “My girl rooms with his sister on campus.”

Broomcorn Hollow always was small. Apparently moving one town across just widened the geographical scope and widened the social net, but nothing really changed.

"Yeah." I rubbed the back of my neck. I was out of my league with her. I knew that, but I’d still make a go of it. She was pretty enough.

My teammate grinned. "Everything counts, man."

Shit, I said that out loud. “Other side,” I called before I passed the ball.

“Promise me something,” Jordan growled at me, as though he was taking the whole thing personally for a woman he didn’t know. “Try to be less of an ass with her. She seems to have a brain between her ears.”

Air shifted beside my head. My reflexes kicked in long enough to save my butt from being knocked down.

The ball seemed more natural in my hands this time, the awkwardness dropping away.

I didn’t think about her, or their barbs or how much dating in a small town with a small population who only knew me as the pretty boy dumb jock hurt.

I sprinted the length of the court, ignoring the plays we’d practiced, twisting and turning, and dodged under an outstretched arm.

My feet walked on air as I slammed the ball through the net.

Sweat dripped into my eyes as I shoved my hair back.

Coach yelled something in my face. I’d remember those words later, because they were important but right now I was fueled by the freedom of the game.

Exhilaration. I’d never tasted anything else like it.

And who knew? I was still keen to meet the new teacher and take her out, show her around. Maybe we'd have fun.

Hell, she was an Aussie. Did they do toffee apples and haunted houses there? We had plenty of fun in October planned. Maybe she’d enjoy the cultural differences of seeing the spooky side of a small town. Or maybe it was simpler than that.

Maybe I could take her on a hay ride and see if I could make her scream.