Fringe Benefits (2 page)

The weight of the world suddenly settled on his shoulders. Tomorrow, six classes of eager new students would be sitting in those stark desks, expecting him to have a syllabus, a set of class rules, and a lesson to teach them.

What he had was jack shit.

Dani stepped over to one of the desks, letting her fingertips brush the surface as her gaze swept the room. “I don’t know about you, but I hate having rows like this. I put my desks in pairs.”

“I can move things around?” Nate asked. The only classroom he’d spent time in had been the one he’d student-taught in, and his supervising teacher hadn’t wanted Nate to do anything to personalize the room. That only emphasized the fact that it wasn’t Nate’s classroom.

She laughed at his question, and he felt his mouth twitch, threatening a grin in response. “It’s your room,
Mr. Ryan
. You can move the desks, the bookshelves, the—”

“Should be easy since they’re empty,” he drawled. “Not sure I’ll ever get used to Mr. Ryan.”

She chuckled again. “When you hear it a hundred times a day, you will. And no worry on décor. I’ve got a ton of posters you can use.”

“Posters?”

“One of our teachers left a couple of years ago. Went on maternity leave and never came back. She left all of her stuff, and I didn’t toss it.”

“Typical teacher.”

She cocked her head. “Pardon?”

“You’re a pack rat.”

A smile lit her face. “I resemble that remark. But how do you know that? This is your first job, right?”

He nodded. “My mom was a teacher. I don’t think she’s ever thrown anything away. Always said she might need it for her classroom.”

“If she’s like me,” Dani said, “she never uses any of it. Right?”

“Right.”

“Let’s go to my room.” She herded him toward the door and flipped off the lights.

“Aren’t we coming back?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Then why turn out the lights?”

Her laugh eased some of his crippling anxiety. “Old habit. The corporation went hog wild trying to save money and trained all of us to turn out lights whenever we leave the room, even if only for a few minutes.” She inclined her head toward her room. “C’mon, Nate. Let’s get you some stuff to brighten up your room—other than turning the lights back on.”

Although he appreciated her help, he had something more pressing. “I’d rather you hand me a stack of lesson plans for the week. I’ve got nada, not even a copy of the texts and novels I need to use.”

She shut the door to his room behind them. “Don’t worry. I’m the other sophomore-level teacher. We need to sync our lessons, so for now, I’ll share all my plans and assignments with you. As the year goes on, we can start to work on things together.”

Surely he’d heard her wrong. Share all her lesson plans? All her assignments? She couldn’t mean that. Most teachers seemed to guard their materials as if they were printed on gold tablets. “Really?”

“Really. We’ve spent the last couple of years aligning curriculum. All of us share so we’re teaching the same things at the same time.”

“Thank God.” Right after the words fell out of his mouth, he realized how desperate he sounded.

“C’mon.” She headed across the hall, the heels of her shoes clicking against the terrazzo floor. “Let’s go see what we can scrape up for this nightmare of a classroom.”

Dani would’ve felt sorry for Nate Ryan if she’d had the time. The whole day was eaten up babysitting him. The only thing that kept her from blaming him was that it truly wasn’t his fault. Jim owed her a hell of a favor for tossing the guy in her lap only hours before the school year began.

As she sipped her iced tea, she watched Nate over the rim of her glass. When the department members arrived at Chili’s for their late lunch—or early dinner, depending on how one looked at eating at four in the afternoon—she’d introduced Nate to the other English teachers. There were five people, including her, in the department. Nate made six. Only one other man worked in language arts, so he and Nate were definitely outnumbered. They’d all been cordial because Nate’s presence meant their class loads would drop. If Jim had not brought him on board, each of the English teachers would have had to absorb one of the sophomore classes. Now they could focus on their own grade levels.

Nate was quiet. Shy? She wasn’t sure yet. Although he seemed to be paying attention to the conversations, he had a wide-eyed and rather overwhelmed expression on his handsome face.

Handsome
. That adjective had crossed Dani’s mind on more than one occasion since meeting him. Ludicrous on her part. Not only was she now his boss, but he was also far too young for her.

Mary Henry leaned closer to Dani. “So what do you think?”

Dani wouldn’t participate in Mary’s kind of gossip. “About?”

Mary snorted. “The new guy, of course.”

“I think he’s got a master’s degree from Indiana University, so he must know at least something about teaching English.”

“And?” Mary prodded.

Setting her drink down, Dani knit her brow. “And what?”

The sigh Mary breathed betrayed her frustration. “What do you
think
about him?”

Dani knew what Mary was asking, whether she considered Nate to be good-looking. No matter what she thought of him, she wasn’t about to get drawn into some juvenile discussion about how cute the new boy was. “He seems eager to get going. God, were we ever that young and naïve?”

“Stop being obtuse,” Mary scolded. “At the risk of being labeled a ‘dirty old lady,’ I’ll admit I think he’s gorgeous. Just what I would’ve gone for. Forty years ago. And that dimple?” She let out a heavy sigh.

Since Mary was only two years from Social Security, Dani had no reason to be jealous.

Jealous?
Of a guy she’d only met a few hours ago?

Shit, I need a drink.

Something stronger than iced tea would help, and she’d be texting Beth tonight to try to exorcise some of this weird attraction out of her mind by letting her best friend tell her she was being an idiot for panting after a guy so young.

“Earth to Dani,” Mary said with a chuckle. “Nate asked you a question.”

Cheeks flushing warm, Dani said, “Sorry. What did you ask?”

“You forgot to tell me about lunches,” he said. “Is there a teachers’ cafeteria? Where I student-taught—”

“Where was that?” Mary interrupted, as was her exasperating habit.

“Bloomington Central,” he replied. “They had a great cafeteria. Ate there almost every day for only two-fifty.”

Dani shook her head. “I wouldn’t advise that at Douglas. God love ’em, the cafeteria ladies try, but… all the rules about what they can’t serve kinda ties their hands behind their backs. Most of us bring our lunches.”

“Especially Dani and the
Ladies
,” Mary quipped, gesturing air quotes on the last word.

Nate quirked a tawny eyebrow. “Ladies? Do most of the women eat together or something?”

Before Dani could brush off the question, Mary jumped right in. “Dani and her friends have been eating together for just about forever. They call themselves the Ladies Who Lunch. Come to think of it, so does everyone else. You know, after
Company
.”

“After what company?” Nate asked. “I feel like I’m missing the punch line of the joke.”

“
Company
is a musical,” Dani replied. “Let it go.”

As if Mary would ever surrender the spotlight. She had Nate’s rapt attention now, which meant she’d never stop talking. “There’s a song by that name. Dani, Bethany Rogers… er… Ashford, Mallory Hamilton… er… Carpenter, and Juliana Kelley… damn. It’s Wilson now, isn’t it? I’m never gonna get their new names right. Geesh, Dani. Are you the only Lady who hasn’t landed a husband yet?”

Not about to dignify that absurd question with a response, Dani sipped more of her drink, wondering why Nate looked like he even cared about Mary’s stupid gossip. The woman couldn’t even get their names straight, for God’s sake.

“You’re not married?” Nate asked, digging around his salad with his fork. Since he was staring at her and not Mary, Dani assumed he was talking to her.

She shook her head.

“Jules is gone now,” Mary announced. “Left teaching. Lucky woman. She still comes a couple times a week to eat with the Ladies, though. They always eat in the upstairs workroom. Most of the rest of us eat in the downstairs lounge.”

*   *   *

Nate couldn’t figure out why Dani’s face had turned so red. Perhaps because she was embarrassed to be part of what sounded like an adult version of a clique? Were these Ladies Who Lunch nothing more than the school bullies? Hell, no one even wanted to eat with them.

That was hard to imagine after spending so much time with Danielle Bradshaw. She had patience to spare, and she didn’t act as if telling him everything he needed to know about how Douglas High ran was a chore. If only his supervising teacher at Central had been half as solicitous, he’d have had a better student-teaching experience.

“I need to head back,” Dani announced, slipping some bills into the black folder holding her check. “I didn’t get as much done as I needed to.” She rose, slung her purse over her shoulder, and smiled. “See you all in the morning.”

Nate scrambled for his wallet, stuffed money into his own folder, and sprinted after her. A glance back made his stomach knot. Everyone gaped at them. His chasing after Dani like a puppy would surely be fodder for gossip.

Who the hell cares?

He needed Dani’s help. He had a bunch of work yet to do on his room, and he had no idea how to get back inside the building. Principal Reinhardt had ordered Nate’s electronic entry card from the tech director, but it wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow. There might still be people in the building, but it was getting late, close to five. The doors would be locked, and he sure didn’t feel like pathetically pounding on one of the doors until someone took pity on him and let him in.

“Dani!” he called, jogging toward her Honda Civic. “Wait!”

She stood in the open car door. “Nate. What’s up?”

“I need to head back to school, too. I still have stuff to get done before tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t we all?”

“I don’t have a keycard yet. Can I follow you so I can get back in?”

Her rather exaggerated sigh almost made him take a step back. Had he misjudged her patience?

Great
. He’d only spent a day with her, and she was already annoyed with him. Sure he’d needed her help today—
a lot
of her help—but she was his boss. Helping her new department member get acquainted with the school was part of her job.

Nate’s annoyance quickly ebbed, and he had to admit she’d gone above and beyond. Hell, she’d spent the whole day in his room. She’d shown him the best way to arrange the desks to maximize his limited space. She’d carried almost as many books as he had, and she’d probably put up more posters.

His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ve taken up all your time today. No wonder you look like I asked you to loan me money.”

Another sigh escaped her lips. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“Why?”

“All you did was ask me to help you get into the building, and I acted like… well, like you asked me to loan you money.”

Nate grinned at her. “You really are a great boss. I’m just sorry I abused your kindness. I imagine you’ve got a shit… er… crapload of stuff to do, too.”

“A shitload and a half,” she replied with a beautiful smile. “Meet you at the door we exited through.” She slid behind the wheel and shut the door. The Civic roared to life.

Scrambling back to his own car, Nate hurried to follow.

*   *   *

Dani stepped into the teacher workroom, not a bit surprised to see Nate standing sentry over the copy machine. In her career, she’d been in that same place more times than she cared to remember, trying not to fall asleep as the machine spit out paper after endless paper in a hypnotizing rhythm. He was so still, she wondered for a moment if he had drifted off, asleep on his feet. Heaven knew she’d done just that before.

Time to wake him up
. “I wonder how many months of my life I’ve wasted in front of that copier,” she quipped.

When he jumped, she tried not to laugh. That was another thing that happened to her regularly. The machine made a person forget there was life outside the school. Perhaps the captivation was a form of teacher meditation—watching the copies spit out and out and out…

“You scared a year off my life,” he grumbled. “Enjoy sneaking up on a guy like that?”

“I thought the building was empty. I think we’re the only two left. I can’t leave until I get copies of my class rules made.” She couldn’t help but explain. “I had them done until the administration changed the dress code this morning. Teaches me not to be so organized.”

“Sorry to hog the copier. I just need to finish getting my syllabus printed, and then I’ve got one set of assignments to run. That’s all I had time to get ready, and that’s only because you’ve been so generous.”

Being more than a little anal retentive about preparing for her students, she understood the touch of panic in his voice. “Here’s a piece of hard-earned advice. Take it one day at a time, Nate. First year is difficult enough without preparing too far ahead. Get things ready for the next school day, and we’ll work together on helping you have lesson plans scheduled for a week or so at a time.”

“Awesome. I feel so scattered. I’d resigned myself to not teaching this year.”

She pulled a chair away from the table, spun it to face the copier, and took a seat. “I’m rather amazed you were even available. I saw your transcripts and your résumé. Can’t believe some other school didn’t snap you up.”

“Yeah, well… it’s a little harsh out there right now. School budgets are tight. I had interviews, but… the master’s degree didn’t work in my favor. They have to pay me more.” He shrugged as he picked up a stack of finished copies from the output tray, loaded a new project into the scanner, and hit the start button. “Soon as this is done, the copier’s yours.”

Dani wasn’t in a hurry. Something about watching him relaxed her. A rare talent. He’d ditched the suit jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. His forearms were sublime. Tan, muscled, and covered with light hair that looked so soft she wanted to stroke it like a cat’s fur.

With his back to her, she had a hard time not staring at his slim hips and squeezable butt. The only thing that prevented her from doing so was the mesmerizing width of his shoulders. “Distracting” didn’t come close to describing Nate Ryan. Did he lift weights? Jog?

It would be great if he was a runner. Maybe they could run together in the mornings and…

She gave her head a shake. Not only was he closer to her students’ ages than hers, but she’d also vowed never to get involved with someone at work. When Juliana had taught at Douglas High, so had her ex-husband. The Ladies heard more than their share of how miserable it was to have to see someone from a past relationship every weekday. Dani wasn’t about to think of spending unnecessary time with Nate, even if he managed to notice her as something more than his new department head.

“We have a fantastic workout room,” she said, trying to keep herself focused. “And the indoor track’s open year-round if you jog.”

The copier sputtered to a halt. Nate checked the small control screen. “Damn. Out of toner.”

“Oh, no worries.” She grabbed the lanyard holding her keys. “I’ll get some from the supply closet and switch out the cartridge.”

“Wait, I thought you said I wasn’t supposed to do anything to the copier like add toner or clear a jam.”

“I did.” She moved to the door of the large supply closet and unlocked it.

“You said there was a secretary who handled all copier emergencies, that I should let her know.”

“I said that, too. But she’s not here. No one is, and I’m not letting that stupid rule keep me from being ready for tomorrow. Besides, it was mostly for the idiots who think they know how to fix problems and don’t. I do.” The supply closet was fairly large, and finding something in it was akin to the quest for the Holy Grail. But the copier needed toner, and she needed to get her work done so she could go home and try to get some sleep.

Nate followed her. “Anything else in there I might be able to use?”

“Definitely. That’s why the closet’s locked. Jim likes for us to beg for stuff we need. Grab some dry-erase markers,” she replied, habitually kicking the plastic stop under the open door and beginning the search for toner. “If you can find any. Damn. Someone rearranged everything.” Her gaze flitted along shelves, finding nothing really useful. No dry-erase markers. No hall passes. And definitely no toner cartridges. Just pile after pile of old carbon paper discipline slips no one used anymore and school stationery that dated back to before the school logo changed ten years ago. “See any toner?”

His back was to her, but she could hear the frustration in his voice. “Nope. Not much of anything useful.” A few moments passed in silence until he said, “Let me check the shelves behind the door.”

Arms folded over her chest, Dani let out a sigh as she glared at the useless supplies. If there wasn’t any toner, she was royally screwed. “Fine, just be careful and please don’t let it—”

Nate shut the door, the echo of the latch clicking as loud as a gunshot.

“—close.”

He cocked his head. “Why not?”