Then, I lug it back out of the apartment.
“I’ve got this,” Zane says and relieves me of the tote, following me down to my car. “You’re flushed. Are you okay?”
“I’m busy,” I reply and push a lock of hair out of my eyes. “I have to set up my classroom tonight because the students are coming to meet me tomorrow. It’s going to take a while, so I have to run. Thanks for your help.”
I smile at him and drop back into my car. I shift into reverse, but Zane knocks on my window.
“Yeah?” I ask after rolling it down.
“I can come help.”
I scowl. “You don’t need to do that. I’ve got it. Just don’t wait up.”
“That’s it. Do not move this car.”
He jogs back up the steps to the apartment, and I check the time. It’s already mid-afternoon. Time is slipping by.
But he quickly returns, jogs to my passenger door, and climbs into the vehicle.
“I had to grab my wallet,” he informs me.
“Zane, this is silly. You don’t have to do this.”
“Do you think that I can’t help?”
“Of course, not.”
“Then off we go.” He taps his fingers on his knees and raises a brow when I don’t move. “Are we going or what?”
“If you get bored, I can bring you home.”
“Aubrey?”
“Yeah?”
“Now you’re annoying me.”
I laugh and pull out of the parking space, heading for the school. We make our way through empty hallways to my classroom, and I usher him inside.
“This is it.”
Zane sets the tote down, and I pile my bags next to it.
“It’s pretty…institutional,” he decides.
“I’m going to make it look so cute, the kids won’t even notice that it’s old and dingy. I bought all kinds of things, along with extra supplies to keep stored for when someone runs short. Some kids just can’t bring everything on the supply list.”
Zane frowns down at me. “So, you buy it all? Like, out of your own pocket?”
“Yeah.” I prop my hands on my hips and consider the wall space above the dry-erase board. “I think I’ll put my alphabet up there.”
“You have socks in this bag,” Zane says with a confused frown.
“Yeah, I keep extra things like that, too. Socks and underwear. You never know when there will be an accident. They’re only six, Zane.”
“Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“I’m going to use you for your height. I need some things hung.”
“I’m at your service.”
Chapter Four
~Zane~
“Oh my God.”
She’s trying to make her voice stern, but I can hear the giggle fighting its way out of her.
Making Aubrey laugh is quickly becoming my new hobby.
I stand back from the wall, hands on my hips, and survey my handiwork.
Aubrey tasked me with hanging the alphabet on the wall above the whiteboard. She didn’t say what order to hang it in.
So, I might have arranged the letters into swear words. Just to startle her.
“They have to learn sooner or later.”
She covers her mouth with her hand, but she can’t hide the laughter.
We’ve been at this for several hours. Hanging colorful animals and other things all over the walls. Organizing furniture and everything else she brought in with her earlier.
But even I can see that it’s still pretty bare in here.
“I’ll buy more here and there,” she says as if she can read my mind. “I want to get some plastic bins to set over there for books and educational toys. In a perfect world, I’d buy a small fridge to keep snacks. I’m not a daycare, but kids learn better if they’re not hungry. And too many kids go hungry.”
I have the undeniable urge to reach out and touch her. Aubrey has a soft heart, especially for kids. Hell, she’d spend every penny she earns on the children if she could.
“You remind me of Sabrina,” I say and wrap my arm around her shoulders. I feel her stiffen and then relax next to me. “She runs a pantry in central Oregon, and a new one here in the Seattle area for kids. She provides snacks and meals and even feminine hygiene stuff for the girls.”
“That’s amazing,” Aubrey says with excitement. “I wonder if she needs more volunteers. I’d be happy to help with that.”
“I’m sure she could use the help.” I frown as she pulls away to tug the cap off a black marker and write her name, MISS STANSFIELD, in all caps on the board. “Will they be able to read that?”
“No, but I’ll teach them.” She sighs and pushes her hand through her hair. It’s amazing how it changes color in different light. This morning, on the balcony, it was sable brown. And this evening, under the fluorescent lights, I can see lighter highlights running through it.
“I like your hair.”
She stops moving and stares at me with wide eyes. “My hair?”
I nod slowly.
“It’s just mousy brown. I really should find a place to get it worked on, but I haven’t had time.”