Bliss and the Art of Forever - Alison Kent Page 0,4
folks and two days with me. And yeah. I’ll be at Bliss till the clock tolls the end of Valentine’s Day.”
That would be Saturday night, yet instead of working, here he was. “Of course. All those last-minute shoppers.” She pictured him again in chef’s whites, though there was nothing wrong with the oxford and the blue jeans and the black leather he had on now. “All that chocolate temptation.”
A dimple cut deep into his scruffy cheek. “Mmm, not so much.”
“Familiarity breeding contempt?”
His laugh was a visceral, vital sound that echoed. “Gotta watch my figure—”
Because having every woman in the room watching it for you isn’t enough?
“—what with having a six-year-old keeping me on my toes.”
“Now, that I can relate to,” she said, a blush heating her cheeks. She was so very glad he couldn’t read her mind.
She returned to removing the artwork from above the cubbies, conscious of his gaze on her as she reached to pluck the staples and tacks. December’s theme had been snowmen and sleds. Last year, for January, she’d used fireworks because she couldn’t deal with clocks depicting the passage of time.
February was easy, with flowers and chubby little cupids and all things Valentine’s Day, but two weeks spent looking at candy hearts was enough. She wanted her class to come back from the weekend to find portraits of past presidents, not just the pink and red of fabricated love.
“Looks like you’re doing a good job. Keeping up with the kids, I mean. Not . . . your figure.”
“Thanks. I think,” she said, and looked over.
He scrunched up one side of his face. “That didn’t come out right. You’re figure’s just fine.”
“Thanks,” she repeated, this time holding the caveat. “You were really good with them, you know.”
He crossed his arms, leaned a shoulder against the end of the cubbies. “If I can’t manage one hour of one day reading a book and answering questions, I should be shot. You’re the pro, doing it all day long every day.”
“I enjoy it,” she said, because it was true. “Seeing their young minds working through problems, reaching conclusions. Using the skills they’re learning. Though this is kindergarten, so I’m not sure they’ve got it in them yet to save the world. Still, when you think about it, our future really is in their hands.” Then she shrugged because it seemed a silly thing to say.
He considered her for a moment. “You have any of your own? Kids?”
If she had a nickel for every time she’d been asked that question . . . She turned to him, pressing the hearts and cupids she held to her chest. “No. I don’t. But that seems to be the leap most people make.”
“It’s an easy one, considering.”
Because her chosen career meant she wanted children of her own? “I love what I do. But I also love leaving it here at the end of the day. That’s why I’m still here now. So I can enjoy the four days I have off.”
He nodded, and thankfully, changed the subject. “What’re you doing with the break?”
“A whole lot of nothing,” she said, slipping the construction paper cutouts into a huge manila envelope.
“You want to take a tour of my shop?”
An extra-chubby cupid slipped free and floated to the floor. “Your shop?”
All he did was nod.
“I don’t understand—”
“You’ve been asking Addy about me,” he said, a dark brow arching above eyes that were an even deeper green without the morning light from the room’s windows to brighten them. “You asked her if I help her with her homework.”
Hmm.
“You asked her if I talk to her about the stories we read.”
Uh-oh.
“You asked her if she rides with me. And if she has a helmet.”
“I ask all my students about their parents,” she said, vowing never to ask Adrianne Drake anything again.
“Do you?” Those words in that voice . . . they heated the air, a flame licking at the oxygen between them.
“Of course,” she said, waving off his query as she bent to retrieve the art. “It helps give me a sense of how involved they are in the education process.” Lame, Brooklyn. Really, really lame.
He scuffed the toe of one boot against the floor. “And my not showing up before now makes you think I’m not involved?”
Fine. Okay. She turned to face her sins head-on. “You’re right. I’ve been curious. Adrianne’s situation isn’t particularly unique, but it is . . . interesting.”
He worked the words around in his mouth as if he found them unpleasant, then said,