A Guy for Christmas - K.C. Wells Page 0,16

against the seat cushions. “You don’t look like your twin,” he observed.

Robin blinked. “Of course. You taught Ryan. I’d forgotten.” He smiled. “You remember him?”

Dean laughed. “Trust me, it’s hard to forget him. You should have seen him in my drama class. That boy would take on any role. He was the only student prepared to play Lady Bracknell in The Importance of Being Earnest when we did a scene from it.” Ryan had had everyone laughing their asses off. “Does he still have a potty mouth?”

Robin snorted. “No change there.” He leaned back too, visibly more relaxed.

Dean studied him. “No, you’re really nothing alike.” Not in looks, nor in temperament. Ryan had been the class clown, whereas Robin? He was the kind of guy who drew attention of a different kind. A delightful mixture of sweetness and snark.

“Mom used to joke one of us was a changeling. She just couldn’t figure out which one. He’s in college now.”

Dean drank a little of his hot chocolate. “You didn’t want to go?”

Another shake of his head. “I always wanted to work with my dad. He’s got me working on gunwales right now, but he’s gonna train me to make the hulls. It’s kinda tricky, because it’s a vacuum process.”

Dean smiled. “Maybe my boat will be the first one you make.”

Robin’s eyes lit up. “I’d like that. Have you been canoeing long?”

“I first got into a canoe with my dad on the lake here when I was about eight years old. I absolutely loved it. First time he let me go out on my own, he made sure I rolled over and learned how to right myself. That was it. I was hooked. I did a little canoeing in Chicago out on the river, but I guess part of me wanted to be back here, where I’d been so happy as a child.” Where the water was a lot cleaner than in Chicago. Getting the job at the high school had felt almost serendipitous, as though Dean was back where he belonged.

“Dad says I’ll be the one to take customers out onto the pond, to demonstrate the canoes.”

His dad’s confidence in Robin’s skills said a lot. “Sounds to me like one day you could be running the business.”

Robin let out a wry chuckle. “I think that’s my dad’s idea too, but that’s not gonna be for a while yet. Unless he’s planning on retiring very early, and taking my mom on a long cruise. She keeps dropping hints.”

“I’m glad you’re doing something you enjoy. Not to mention something you’re obviously good at. This talent for woodwork… Does that come from your dad?”

Robin nodded. “I remember being very little and helping my dad at his workbench. I think the first thing I ever made was a birdhouse.” He laughed. “Though I pity the birds who had to live in it.” He inclined his head toward the paintings. “I can see why you became an art teacher. You obviously like it.”

Dean suddenly realized he’d omitted to say something vital. “Those paintings… they’re mine.”

Robin’s eyes widened. “You’re really good. I mean it.” He glanced at them again. “Some of them look like photos.”

“Thank you, but the thing about teaching art is, you have to be a jack of all trades. I get to teach drawing, painting, pottery, even sculpture.”

“Your students do all that? Wow. I really missed out.”

“Before you get too miserable, I should add they sculpt from soap. I get these blocks of soap that are only about four times the size of your average bar. It’s a good way to get kids started.” He peered at Robin. “Besides, you didn’t miss out. You did woodwork instead. And from the look of that gunwale you were working on, that’s obviously where your talents lay.” He glanced at the clock above the fireplace. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, I promise, but you need to think about going home. It’s getting late, and we’ve both got work in the morning.”

Robin gave him a warm smile. “Thank you for the hot chocolate, and for not being annoyed at me turning up here.”

Dean chuckled. “You really did intrigue me. But now I’m looking forward to spending a couple of hours with you on Saturday, teaching you to ski. I suspect you’ll be good at it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re a talented young man. And I think you give everything you do one hundred percent. But remember… If you fall on your ass, it’s only