“Awful,” he agreed.
“The worst.”
“I should probably stop touching you right now because the abandoned closet off the music room is suddenly looking like a mighty fine destination to take you to. No one would hear us with all the racket coming from the room next door.”
She pressed her palm over his beating heart and smiled. “No time for making out in the closet. We have to go blow your students’ minds with a big, yellow school bus.”
Excitement bubbled up in his chest at the thought. “Yes we do. This is going to be such a blast.”
The bell rang, and he let go of Rebecca before the halls filled. But when he stepped into his classroom with her, knowing what they were about to announce, it took everything he had not to kiss her in front of everyone. The urge was strong and potent, watching Rebecca stand there, a secret smile on her lips as the kids made their way into the room. It was also dangerous, that swirling sense of rightness within him. Like he was exactly where he was supposed to be at that moment in time. The feeling was downright foreign.
But when they revealed Adele to the class fifteen minutes later, and he saw the looks on the kids’ faces as they removed the blindfolds, the emotion surged full and fast. And when a few of his students barreled into him with an enthusiastic group hug, he finally pinpointed what that feeling was. Happy.
He’d forgotten what that felt like, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt it quite like this. Rebecca had given this to him with no strings or ulterior motives. Here you go, Wes Garrett. Have a piece of your dream and a smart, beautiful woman to share it with.
It all felt a little too good to be true. He’d learned to be wary of that because the few tastes of it he’d had in his life had been quickly followed by the rug being yanked from under him. But he pushed the worry down for now. Right now, he was here. Right now, he was happy.
When all the kids hurried toward the bus to explore, Wes reached out and grabbed Rebecca’s hand, giving it a squeeze.
She smiled his way. “I think they approve.”
He wanted to say so much. To tell her how much richer this experience was with her there. To tell her that she had no idea what she’d really given these kids. Given him. But all he could manage was, “Thank you.”
* * *
Rebecca toweled off her wet hair as she padded barefoot to the guest bedroom to get a set of clean sheets. She and Wes had grabbed takeout after finishing up at the school for the day and headed to her place. Wes had been so excited in his boyishly pure way on the way home that the effect had been contagious. So much so that Rebecca hadn’t been able to bring herself to show him the police photos yet. She wanted this day to be protected—a perfect, happy memory. So she’d decided to put it out of her mind for the night. Enjoy the moment.
She had. They had barely gotten through dinner before ending up in bed. The buzz of seeing the project get started had been too much and had translated into an insatiable need to touch each other. And even though they’d still been filthy from the hard labor, they hadn’t had the patience to get cleaned up first.
The sex had been great. But her sheets were a loss.
She smiled to herself as she took a pile of folded sheets off the shelf in the guest closet. She’d never wanted someone so badly that she hadn’t cared about being a sweaty, dirty mess—or him being a sweaty, dirty mess. There was something freeing in that, primal. Not just acceptance of imperfection but embracing it, rolling around in it, and not giving a damn about anything but that person and that moment.
Rebecca clutched the sheets to her chest and listened to the old pipes creak in the wall as Wes showered. She hadn’t officially invited him to stay the night. They hadn’t done that yet, and it felt like a precarious move with the whole friendship thing. But they were both adults. Sharing a bed was just sleeping in the same space. It didn’t have to be a thing.
She sighed. Maybe it was a thing.
She left the guest bedroom, planning to change the sheets before making any further decisions, but the sound of a knock on her door broke her from her thoughts. She frowned and walked out into the living room, setting the sheets on the back of the couch and making sure her robe was tied. Another hard knock followed, and she glanced at the clock.
It was only eight, so maybe it was a package or something. None of her friends would stop by this late without calling. She headed to the door and peeked through the peephole, finding a familiar face shining in the glow of the porch light.
“Rebecca, open up. I know you’re home,” her father called out.
She cursed and pressed her head to the door. She’d managed to avoid her father at work today, thereby avoiding any conversation about the brunch. She’d known it was a temporary stay of execution, but not this temporary.
There was no use in trying to avoid him, but she needed to get him out of here quickly. She cracked open the door. “Um, hey, Dad. It’s a little late—”
He stepped forward, not giving her an option not to back up, and walked in. “It’s not late. I just left work. I expected you to still be there, too. I had an event I needed to talk to you about.” He glanced at her. “But look at you. You’re already in pajamas. Must be nice.”
She stiffened and shut the door behind him. “I didn’t have anything on my schedule tonight. And after last week’s twelve-hour days, I figured I’d earned an early night.”
He strode into her living room and turned, arms crossed, not sitting down. “It seems you’re all about cutting out early these days. Like doing two words of a speech and leaving.”
Her teeth pressed together. “Dad—”
“You left me with a lot of questions to answer on your behalf. The people at the event were quite concerned. And disappointed not to hear your speech.”
She sat on the arm of the couch and sighed. “I’m sorry, Dad. It wasn’t my plan to make a fool of myself onstage, and I didn’t mean to leave you with cleanup duty. But I was in no condition to socialize afterward. I felt terrible.”