Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover #2) - Stina Lindenblatt Page 0,7
books tilt precariously in her arms, threatening to crash to the floor.
I spring forward, grabbing for the books as they begin their descent.
Realizing she’s about to lose her precious load, she attempts to hug it to herself and stumbles into me. Forgetting about the books, I instinctively grab her around the waist, bringing her hard against me.
The books hit the floor with a series of loud bangs.
A shocked gasp releases from her soft pink lips, and I loosen my hold on her—much to my body’s annoyance.
“Sorry.” I step back and start collecting the books from the floor.
She crouches to do the same. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s my bag and the door handle who owe us an apology.” A strand of hair falls in her face.
She shoves it behind her ear as I chuckle at her comment. We both stand up, our arms full of books.
“Where do you need these?” I ask.
“My classroom, but I need to talk to Principal Woodnut first.”
“She’s expecting you, Chloe,” Jeanine says.
Chloe?
This is the woman I’m supposed to be dating? She looks nothing like the picture in the folder Liam gave me yesterday when he told the team about the mission.
Chloe’s a fairly common name. For all I know, there’s at least two of them in this school.
“Hey, Chloe,” Ava says from behind me. “I see you’ve already met Landon—Zoe’s replacement while she’s on maternity leave.” To me, Ava says, “You’ll be teaching in the classroom next to Chloe’s.” She flashes me a meaningful expression.
I guess that answers my question. This is the Chloe Reinhart whose grandfather is facing life in prison.
“Today’s his first day,” Ava adds.
Chloe’s eyes widen. “Zoe’s on maternity leave? I thought she was working until winter break. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. Just a slight change of plans. I’m giving Landon the tour; then he’s all yours.”
I turn back to Chloe. “Since I’m headed that way, do you want me to drop the books off in your classroom?”
“That’s okay. I can manage.” She reaches for them.
I jerk the books away from her.
“Are you sure? I can at least help and take those two.” She points to the ones on top of the pile.
“I’m positive.”
She nibbles her lip in a move that’s so goddamn sexy.
Get your mind in the game, Scorpio.
“Okay.” She scurries off to Woodnut’s office, leaving me with Ava.
A short time later, after Ava has shown me all the sights and explained the ins and outs of our day, we step into an empty classroom.
“And this is where you’ll be spending the next few weeks…less, if you’re lucky.” She walks to the teacher’s desk—my desk—and picks up a folder from it. “This is your attendance list.”
I survey the territory. A fucking rainbow exploded in here. The drawers against the walls, the rug in the corner of the room, the stout bookshelves, the posters with cartoon illustrations, the half-dozen squat tables with pint-sized chairs—it’s all a multitude of bright colors, and it makes Principal Woodnut’s office look dull.
Shit. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
4
Chloe
I enter Principal Woodnut’s office, and at her request, take a seat, pushing all thoughts from my head of the incredibly sexy substitute teacher.
The sexy teacher who will be in the classroom adjoining mine for at least the next four weeks.
“Jeanine said you wanted to talk to me,” Principal Woodnut says, breaking me from my thoughts.
“That’s right. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I volunteer several days a week at Golden Sunshine Retirement Village. And well…they need our help. Or rather, the students’ help.”
She leans forward, planting her elbows on the desk. “You have my attention.”
“Every December, Millwood Elementary School puts on a concert for the residents. They love it. For some seniors, it’s the only real interaction they have with kids. Their own grandkids aren’t in their lives much.” If at all. “Unfortunately, the school had to cancel for this holiday season, which means the highly anticipated Christmas concert won’t be part of the residence’s tradition this year. The seniors are extremely disappointed.”
“And you’re hoping our students can perform at the Christmas concert instead?”
I nod.
She leans back in her chair, her expression soft but unreadable. “Unfortunately, the decision for something like this isn’t completely in my hands, even if I do believe it’s a marvelous idea. I can give my stamp of approval, which is the first step.”
“Whose hands is it in?”
“Tabitha Windhouse’s.”
At the name, my heart spirals downward and hits my stomach with a loud oomph.