Rumor Has It (An Animal Magnetism Novel) (6 page)

T
hey
got back to school in time for lunch with no further problems. Normally Kate took her lunch break with a friend. At least once a week she ate with Holly. Other days she met up with Lilah, Jade, or the new vet, Olivia, when their breaks lined up. Olivia and Kate shared a love of cooking, so they always did a recipe exchange. Other days, Kate stayed at school and ate with Ryan in his office, but today she ran through the cafeteria quickly.

“Hey, honey,” Glenna the lunch lady said in her no-nonsense voice. “What’ll it be?”

“The Griffin,” Kate said, and then clamped a hand over her mouth. The Griffin? Good Lord, even the thought of a Griffin sandwich gave her a hot flash. “The Reuben! I meant the Reuben!”

Glenna cackled. “I’d take a Griffin sandwich.”

The afternoon went downhill from there. Mikey and Tasha got sick in the classroom—Mikey managed to do it right on Kate’s favorite Toms knockoff boots. Then, two minutes before she had to line the class up for play rehearsal, Tommy vanished again. But this time she knew it wasn’t a bird.

It was the play.

She found him hiding in the closet reading on his e-reader. Relief weakened her knees, and her heart clutched hard at the sight of him. Despite her best efforts, he was skinny as a stick, and his clothes were always just a little too big. Today, like most days, his hair stuck up in tufts, due to his aversion to a brush or comb. And damn, she loved him. She turned back to her class. “If anyone moves from their seat in the next three minutes, we’re going to skip recess.”

This brought a chorus of promises that no one would move a single inch. Right. Hoping her threat had been enough, Kate crawled into the closet with Tommy. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He hadn’t stopped reading, so she reached out and turned off the e-reader. Finally, he looked at her.

“You know they’re not going to stay in their seats,” he said. “Recess or not.”

“Then we’ll have to make this quick, won’t we?” She stroked his hair, trying to tame it. Impossible. “You know it’s just a rehearsal, right? There’s no actual audience yet.”

“I don’t want to be in the play.”

Every kid had a part, and his was as a tree. “You don’t have any lines,” she said.

“I have to do a stupid tree dance. And it’s stupid.”

“Everyone’s dancing, Tommy. Not just you.”

Tommy stared at his dark e-reader screen as if he could still make out the words. “Everyone’s mom is supposed to make their costume.”

Kate’s chest went tight. “You know I’ll make your costume,” she said softly. Fiercely. “You’ll be the best tree that ever danced.”

He lifted a scrawny shoulder.

She took in his slightly bowed head and averted eyes, and she knew there was more. “What?”

He shrugged again, and Kate’s heart broke a little more. “How about I have Mrs. Garcia put you on the very back edge of the stage, okay? And then, after school, we’ll make pancakes.” She had no business promising pancakes. Holly’s rehearsal dinner was tonight, and as maid of honor, she had a bazillion and one things to do.

“Offstage,” Tommy said, negotiating. Clearly, he’d been watching
Pawn Stars
with her dad again. “And chocolate-chip pancakes.”

“Onstage.” She sighed. “But yeah, I’ll cave on the chocolate-chip pancakes.”

They shook on the deal.

* * *

Griffin walked down the hallway of the elementary school experiencing an odd sense of déjà vu. It had been a whole hell of a lot of years since he’d walked these halls, and mostly back then he’d either been running like hell during an escape or sitting on a bench outside the principal’s office.

He had no idea why he was here now.

Except he did. He’d promised Tommy he’d come by for a brownie. And maybe a small part of him wanted to see Kate in her element. He stopped in the doorway to her classroom and took in the scene. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor with the kids, reading to them.

She’d taken off her sweater. Her demure, librarian-approved blouse, skirt, tights, and boots shouldn’t have made him hot. The blouse had a little stand-up collar and a row of teeny-tiny buttons down the front. A nightmare to get into in a hurry. Nope, that shirt was made for the slow reveal, and it was really amazing how sexy it was when paired with the reading glasses perched on her nose and the way her hair was twisted in a knot at the base of her neck.

She was every guy’s secret teacher-jack-off fantasy. She’d been his just last night.

She was laughing and so were the kids as she picked up a book, opened it to a page, and said a word. She pointed at someone to spell the word, which correlated to the picture on the page of the big book she was holding.

Spelling had been torture for Grif. Sheer torture. He’d have done anything to get out of it—and often had. Frogs in his pockets let loose at the right moment. Spilling whatever he could get his hands on to garner him an excuse to go to the restroom. Whatever he could think of, he attempted to pull off.

But here no one was attempting escape.

He suspected the reason for the kids’ rapt attention was the exact same reason he moved to get closer.

Kate.

She had a way of glowing, of looking so happy to be talking to you, of spreading smiles . . . It was like she was a drug. She met his gaze then, and something came into her smile.

A wariness.

Smart girl.

Tommy turned to see who Kate was looking at. He beamed and scooted over to make some room in the circle for Griffin. A few other parents came in as well, and the kids’ circle widened again. It was an ongoing thing, he realized, Kate expanding her circle to accept everyone.

When spelling was over and Kate had excused the kids back to their desks, each of which had a brownie on it, Grif started to head toward the front of the classroom, but Tommy ran over to him. “Griffin!”

“Hey, kid.”

“Hey!” Tommy handed over the flannel shirt. “I wore it all day,” he said proudly, smiling his gap-toothed smile. “Well, except when I painted. I didn’t wanna spill.”

Which, given the splotches of green and blue paint smeared on Tommy’s cheek, had been a good call.

Tommy held out his right hand for the same fist bump they’d exchanged earlier. Then he held out his left and handed Grif a brownie that was only slightly squished. “I saved this one for you.” With one last grin, he turned and ran directly into Dustin.

“Hey, ’tard,” Dustin said. “Watch where you’re going.”

Tommy looked down at the chocolate smeared on his hand and licked his palm.

Grif opened his mouth to say something to the rude punk-ass, but Kate beat him to it.

“That’s an unacceptable word, Dustin,” she said. “What happens when we use an unacceptable word?”

Dustin huffed out a sigh. “Time-out.”

“Then go take one.”

As he had earlier, Dustin kicked the ground. No dust rose this time as he walked back to his seat.

Tommy slid Kate a long look but said nothing as he moved back to his seat as well.

Grif leaned in. “Why don’t you let that little shit have it?”

She spoke just as quietly. “Because it wouldn’t do Tommy any favors to have his teacher—and his sister—defend his manhood.”

“Maybe not, but it’d do the bully good to be put in his place.”

She glanced at the kids, making sure no one could overhear them. “Bullies usually come from bullies, which means Dustin needs extra kindness at school.”

To Grif this seemed like the opposite of what should be done. “You think any of these kids would dare bully Dustin?” he asked her. “He’s a lot bigger than they are.”

Her gaze held his. “Bullying is learned at home,” she said again. “I think that kindness will do more for both boys. Leading by example.”

Grif disagreed on all counts, vehemently. But then again, he was a soldier not a second-grade teacher, which was probably a good thing.

Another man entered the classroom, and Grif recognized him as the guy who’d come on to Kate at the bachelor/bachelorette party. The attorney. Trevan Anders. Tall, leanly muscled, and dressed in an expensive suit, he walked across the floor like he owned it.

“Dustin,” Anders said, and snapped his fingers. “Let’s hit it.”

Dustin—Trevan’s mini-me—leaped out of his seat.

Kate intercepted, stepping between the father and son to face Trevan. “Again, Mr. Anders?” she asked quietly. “Can’t you schedule Dustin’s training for after school?”

“So we’re back to Mr. Anders, then?” he asked with a smile that made Grif want to punch him on principle. “What happened to calling me Trevan?”

With cheeks sporting two high spots of color that Grif was pretty sure were from annoyance and not embarrassment, Kate pulled Anders aside. “You’re the father of one of my students,” she said. “So yes, it’s Mr. Anders. As for Dustin leaving class early, it costs him.”

“Dustin’s coach plays in the minors,” Trevan said. “His time is limited. And important.”

“So is spelling,” Kate said, but Grif knew by the look on Anders’s face that he disagreed. “There’s a test tomorrow,” she went on. “And another only two days after that. He needs to pass these in order to be eligible for our field trips, specifically the upcoming trip to the animal center.”

Trevan looked at Dustin. “That’s fine. He has to pass them anyway in order to have the grades required by his travel team to play in his upcoming tournament.”

Dustin squirmed, and his father’s eyes narrowed. “He’s in danger of not passing?”

“More class time would help,” Kate said. “But I have every confidence in Dustin.”

“And I have every confidence in you, Ms. Evans,” Trevan said, and snapped his fingers at Dustin. “Come on.”

Dustin hesitated. “Dad, I want to get to go to the animal center—”

“Now, Dustin.”

“But—”

“You have to the count of three to get moving,” Trevan snapped. “Do not make me start counting.”

Dustin kicked his desk, shoved Nina who was standing next to him, and came along as ordered.

Kate stopped him and crouched low to meet the boy’s eyes. “You have your spelling homework,” she said. “After practice, spend some time with it, okay?”

Above her, Anders glanced at his watch.

Asshole, Grif thought.

Kate let them go, but Grif was pretty sure they all knew that Dustin wasn’t going to spend much time studying spelling.

* * *

After school, Ryan dropped Kate and Tommy off at her dad’s house. Kate went inside since she had to make the promised chocolate-chip pancakes, plus Ashley had left three teary messages about some trauma she’d experienced during her day.

The teen was locked in her room, refusing to come out.

Having been an emotional teen herself, Kate knew yelling through the door was a waste of time. She went to the kitchen and pulled a lasagna casserole from the freezer. She wrote out specific instructions on a sticky note, which she placed on the tinfoil. Then she made the chocolate-chip pancakes for a very happy Tommy. Finally, she searched out her dad who was in the living room and had both his laptop and Channing Tatum in his lap vying for space.

“Dinner’s on the counter,” she told him. “With instructions.”

He grimaced. “Ashley told you about last night?”

“She texted to say you burned dinner and set off the fire alarm.”

“I don’t know what happened.”

“I do,” Kate said. “You put the casserole in the oven and forgot about it.”

He’d forget his own head if it wasn’t attached. Once upon a time he’d been a brilliant biologist. He’d studied at Stanford, taught at Berkeley, where he’d met Kate’s mom. They’d lived the dream—until Belinda had died in a car accident.

Eddie had been driving, and a part of him had died with her. He’d lost himself and his way. Drowning in guilt, he’d fallen into a depression, and then he had turned to his painkillers to numb his pain while Kate had fought for her family. He was one year sober, and she was proud of him, but he still hadn’t stepped fully back into the ring.

He sighed. “I’ll be more careful tonight.”

She leaned in and kissed his jaw. “Set the timer this time, okay?”

He smiled and pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “I promise.” He squeezed her hand. “You should be running your own life, Kate, not mine.”

“I don’t know what that looks like,” she said. “You all are my life. I love you guys. Plus you can’t do without me.”

“Of course we can.” He set the laptop aside and tried to nudge the cat off of him, but Channing Tatum refused to be budged.

“We’ve talked about this,” Eddie said to the cat. “Stop soaking up Ashley’s bad ’tude.”

The cat hissed and then jumped down, stalking off, tail straight up in the air.

Eddie rose, but then he scratched his head as if forgetting what he wanted to do.

“Dad.”

“We’re fine, Kate. Get to the rehearsal dinner. We’re all good here. Go have a life.”

“Sure, go.” This was from Ashley, standing in the doorway in all her teenage attitude and glory, and far too little clothing. She looked a lot like Kate, actually, minus about ten pounds of stress ice cream. “Go off and forget us; we’ll be fine even though Kyle is a two-timing jerk and Kia is a two-timing bitch and my life is over.” By the end of this sentence she was wailing at a decibel that only dogs could hear.