“I’m sorry!” Toby cries.
I kneel down to his level. “I’m okay. It was an accident. Why don’t you help the other kids round up the basketballs and put them back on the rack for me?”
He shoots me a grin and darts off, yelling for the others to help.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Simon asks.
“Uh…yeah, I’m fine. Occupational hazard. What are you doing here?” The words spill out before I can stop them.
A smile blooms on his face, his gorgeous, perfect face with thick lips and—
“Picking up Toby. Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting a little strange.”
Damn it, Lydia. Pull it together. “I’m fine, I just didn’t know you had a son.”
Simon laughs and shakes his head, causing his light brown curls to fall over his forehead. Absently, he swipes it back. “Toby’s my nephew. My sister’s kid. I recently took guardianship.”
“Your sister Gretchen?” I ask. “Did something happen to her?”
Maybe I’m just in total bitch mode today, but I don’t really care about his answer. If ever two people were made for each other, it’s Gretchen and Anderson. Both seem to have no conscience at all.
His face darkens. “No, she just can’t be bothered with him. What are you doing in Lanfort?”
Wow. See? I told you she’s a bitch. Who abandons their kid like that? “I just moved here. I’m living with Sicily Hunt, Roman Hunt’s sister. I think you met them at the wedding last year.”
I hate bringing up the wedding. It wasn’t my finest hour, and I was a mess for most of the week, but Simon really came through at the end, helping me expose the cheating groom.
“And you’re the new Phys Ed teacher?”
“Until I find something better.” I realize that sounds a little insulting. I have nothing but respect for teachers. “I mean, teaching is great, kids are our future and all that, but it just isn’t for me.” And now I’m babbling. Great.
Toby rushes up. “Can we go, Uncle Simon? My back teeth are floating.”
I can’t stop the laughter from bursting through my lips. “I see you’re teaching him well.”
“Go use the restroom in the hall,” Simon tells him. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“He’s adorable,” I laugh as he runs off.
“Too bad I have no idea what I’m doing.” Simon smiles at me, and I feel those flutters in my stomach. It should be a warning to run fast and far. Relationships never work out for me and the last thing I need now is another complication when everything here is so new.
“He seems like a happy kid.”
“He is.”
“Well.” I fidget with the ends of my hair. “I should get the equipment stored and head home.” Ava hands off the last kid to his mother and waves as she leaves.
“We should have dinner.”
Shit. I mean, shoot. “I’m pretty busy, getting settled in and all.”
“Maybe next time then.”
I’m saved from answering when Toby races back into the room. I swear I’m going to call him Forrest. He’s always running. “Bye, Ms. Childers!”
“Goodbye, Ms. Childers,” Simon teases, flashing me that devastating smile. “See you tomorrow.”
His words sink in as they walk away. I won’t just see him tomorrow. I’ll see him every day when he picks Toby up.
Fu—frog my life.
CHAPTER 3
SICILY
I’m on muse overload right now. It’s like a creative orgy in my head, and I’m on a high.
Since yesterday, I’ve had ten new ideas that might work for this campaign. Which is crazy. I’ve never been brimming with so many ideas that I can’t pick the one I want to use.
I’ve also had lots of coffee. Lots of coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
My knee bouncing, I type quickly, leaning over the front of my desk instead of sitting down behind it, while making sure to get all the specifics bullet-pointed. My hair is pulled up and held in a ball with pencils. Multiple pencils. I look like a tortured voodoo doll up there.
I’m not sure why, but one of Anderson’s ideas just opened up an entire pool of creativity for me after I finally sat down and really thought about it. Even though my ideas are nothing like his.
Grabbing a new poster board, I quickly—and very roughly—sketch out some of the possibilities for this one. Just as I’ve done all night for the nine other ideas.
I glance at the time, realizing it’s almost time for everyone else to start showing up. I don’t want to look like I’m taking a walk of shame. People will definitely assume that instead of thinking I stayed up all night working.
But, like any good workaholic, I have a bag for emergencies, and I pull it out of the desk drawer. Quickly, I tug off my shirt, then realize I forgot a part on the bullet points for my latest idea, so I type it in.
As soon as that’s done, I unzip my skirt, but don’t even get it pushed down before another thought comes. I pull up one of the other nine ideas and add to it, while my skirt drops around my ankles.