would help her with a few things around the house, then meet up with Jack after he and Hank finished morning chores at the farm. They’d drive out to Amy’s car and tow it, and then Caleb could fix the car at his leisure and romance Amy at the same time.
He was prepared this morning.
Didn’t matter that he hadn’t slept a lick since Friday—he could sleep some other time. Right now he was fired up with opportunity. He’d been in Painted Barrel for months now and never really had a chance to spend time with the beautiful teacher. Now he was going to take every opportunity and squeeze them for every moment, just like Jack suggested.
So he was bringing over breakfast. Fresh coffee was in an extra-large thermos, heavily sugared and creamed because she’d sucked his coffee down Friday night and Libby had mentioned once that her teacher liked lots of stuff in her coffee just like her uncle Caleb, and it had stuck in his mind as just another reason why Amy was perfect for him. He’d snagged some of the fresh-baked pumpkin-spice muffins that Becca had sent with Hank, along with a paper bag of Christmas cookies. For her dog—Donner, hell of a name—he’d raided Uncle Ennis’s vet clinic and gotten a leash and harness, more dog food, and treats, and he’d tossed the bundle of goods into the back of his truck, along with his toolbox and a shovel.
In his pocket, he had a series of notecards with phrases he could reference when he talked to her. Written on them were good conversation starters that he’d thought up. Things like “So, what’s your story?” and “Are you spending the holidays with family?” and “Have you finished your Christmas shopping?” He had one with weather-related phrases, and one with teacher types of things to ask her. He flipped through them as he drove down the snowy roads toward Painted Barrel. He wasn’t memorizing them, because he knew himself well enough to know that the moment he saw her, they’d all fly out of his head anyhow. He was practicing saying them aloud, because the more comfortable he was with each phrase, the more likely it wouldn’t trip on his tongue.
“So, what’s your story?” he asked aloud to the truck as he drove. “What brought you to Painted Barrel? What made you take up teaching?”
Jack would laugh his fool head off if he heard Caleb. Hank would, too. Uncle Ennis and Becca would probably just look at him with pity, though. That might be worse than the laughter.
He got to her house long before dawn was even peeking through the sky. Caleb didn’t ring the doorbell just yet, though. Instead, he parked in the street and got out his shovel and a bag of rock salt. He felt a little bad about leaving it icy all weekend, but she wasn’t going anywhere, he reckoned. Caleb cleaned off the sidewalks and the driveway, scraped the ice off the porch and the steps, and because her neighbor’s yard was pretty close (and because he was still nervous), he did their drive, too. All the while, he muttered to himself. “What made you take up teaching? What’s your story? What made you decide to move to Painted Barrel? What did you do before coming here?”
He was going to nail this shit.
With that confident thought going through his head, Caleb put the shovel away, took a deep breath, and grabbed the bag of food and the extra-large thermos. Hands full, he knocked on the door and waited. It was early. Real early, and he wondered if she was asleep. That might be awkward, especially if she was in her pajamas. He’d had a lot of time to daydream about what Amy looked like when she slept, though, and he didn’t think she was a pajama type. More of a silky nightie with a bit of lace and hardly any straps . . .
And now he was sweating.
Caleb sucked in a breath as she peeked through the window in the living room, and then he heard steps coming toward the door. His cock was uncomfortably hard in his pants—all that thinking about her in a nightie—but his coat was long and hopefully she wouldn’t notice anything.
She got to the door, and sure enough, she was in a flannel robe, a bright-red-and-green holiday affair that hadn’t figured into his fantasies (but would now), and her hair was pulled up into a messy knot atop her