Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Once I brokered peace in the daily hair war between the sisters, I tried to herd the girls toward the door, grabbing backpacks as we went.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” Stella asked as we paused near the door to put on our shoes. The compromise over the hair clip had involved me doing a hasty braid, which Stella flipped over one shoulder as she glared at me. Like me, she wasn’t a morning person, and sadly, eleven was too young to offer a coffee for the walk to school.
“Because I have some great ideas for the holiday festival, and I can’t wait to show Mr. Winters.” That was the God’s honest truth, and my eagerness had nothing to do with wanting to see the guy again, even if he did look straight out of a surfer film. No matter how good-looking, he was cranky, and for whatever reason, Merry seemed predisposed to not be a fan of mine.
“Mr. Winters is the best.” Athena stood a little taller as we waved goodbye to Cara. “When I get famous, I’m going to hire him to be the carpenter on one of my shows.”
“One? How many are you planning?” I teased because we all knew about Athena’s ambition to run a decorating empire similar to her favorite home remodeling shows
“As many as it takes.” She threw her arms wide, making her backpack lurch against its straps. “My decorating line will be in all the big-box stores Mom hates, but I’ll be rich.”
“That will be wonderful for you. Just remember to ask permission before filming reveals and reactions.” I kept my tone bright, but Athena’s tendency to record content for her growing social-media channel without warning had a long history of embarrassing missteps.
Athena made a rude noise. “Hey, I only surprised you that one time—”
“More like ten times.” Stella interrupted to glare at her sister, pausing in the center of the sidewalk, costing us more precious seconds.
“Walk faster.” Athena gave Stella a push. “I want to hear Uncle Nolan’s big plans.”
“Don’t shove me!” Stella roared back, and thus, we arrived far closer to the first bell than I wanted.
Leaving the girls near their respective lockers, I headed to the industrial arts classroom. I’d dressed with our meeting in mind: red skinny jeans I’d found at one of my favorite New York thrift stores and a gauzy green shirt I’d picked up at a designer sample sale right before leaving for Hawaii. Hopefully, when Merry saw I was serious about making the festival a success, he would tone down his insta-hate. However, I pulled up short by the door when I saw he was already working with a trio of students.
“What do we think?” He held up a turtle-shaped cutting board. Away from the small chairs of the conference room, Merry seemed even taller with long, lanky arms and legs. I hadn’t met that many shop teachers over the years, but Merry was the hottest by far, more so when he smiled at the kids. Glowering at me, he was merely average surfer-boy cute, but when he grinned at the three kids, his appeal reached Hollywood blockbuster levels.
“Mom’s going to love it,” raved the student in the middle, a short boy with dark hair.
“She’s gonna freak,” the tallest boy agreed.
“I’ve got the wrapping paper.” The lone girl held up a roll of birthday paper.
“Now, each of you sign the back,” Merry instructed. “And we’ll add the year.”
I was blessed with a large circle of generous friends, yet my chest had never felt quite so full watching an act of kindness. Damn it. Why couldn’t Merry be grumpy all the time? Seeing this generous side of him did things to my insides, things I really didn’t like. Being attracted to him was bad enough. Liking him was a recipe for disaster.
And behind those three, other students were waiting for a moment of Merry’s time and attention. He was clearly a beloved teacher, and his bright and airy classroom was cluttered in a friendly way, where all the stacks of wood and trays of paint seemed inviting rather than oppressive.
“Can I help you?” Finally free of students, Merry looked up to find me lurking. Oops.
“Sorry.” I managed a sheepish smile he didn’t return. Huh. He’d certainly smiled plenty with his students. Apparently, it was just me he disliked. “I was going to try to talk to you about the holiday festival, but you were—”
Buzz. The first bell rang, unleashing an avalanche of students streaming in the front doors, racing to their lockers, and pushing into classrooms.
“Better get to your classroom while you can,” Merry advised. “We can talk about the festival later. I’ll catch you at lunch.”
I raced to the choir room, a weird L-shaped space that had possibly once been a storage room. No windows, mismatched chairs, a makeshift stage with risers, and a single door, which I guarded carefully as my first period students arrived.