Page 11 of Beck and Call

Page List


Font:  

I drop my voice so only he can hear me. “I’m sorry. The school board—”

“I’ve seen the meetings on YouTube. Let me guess… more funding cuts?”

I nod sheepishly. “So… what? You googled me?”

“I like to do my research,” he says casually as he leans in to speak low in my ear. “And it seems to me thatyouhave gone toe-to-toe with that board more often than anyone else. Not gonna lie, it was pretty hot watching you stand up to an entire board over the student meal plans.”

A warm flush spreads over my face, and I let my eyes drift closed for just a second. “Ketchup isn’t a vegetable,” I whisper back, wishing the feel of his warm breath on my skin would last forever.

Matt leans an elbow on the limo and crosses one foot behind the other. “Oh, I agree. You and the chairwoman really don’t see eye to eye.”

“I mean, she’s kind of the devil incarnate,” I mutter.

Matt laughs out loud, the afternoon light shining through his thick, inky hair.

“And this will piss her off?” he asks.

“Oh, for sure. But there’s also nothing she can do to stop it,” I say, pleased with myself. I read every last bylaw and policy that covers student activities. They didn’t ban the trip or the team, just pulled funding.

Matt watches my face, those eyes taking me in and shining with pure appreciation. For just a second, I wish it was just the two of us. On paper, I covered every contingency. This was the perfect plan to get my spelling team their reward and put a safe distance between Matt and I. So why am I suddenly disappointed I don’t have him all to myself all day? I can’t shake the feeling, especially when he leans down to kiss me on the cheek, and I catch a heady whiff of his cologne.

Jeez. Does he have to smell so freaking good? Isn’t it enough that the man has perfect teeth and is built like he belongs in a Magic Mike reboot? No, he has to be kind, and funny, and smell amazing, too. Jerk.

Behind Matt, windows roll up and down as six little spelling bee champs clamor around inside the limo. The vehicle shakes from side to side, and I keep catching exclamations like, “What does this button do?!” But Matt doesn’t even seem to notice. He stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. Or, at least, seeing something new.

Sherri, our fourth-grade champion from last year, pops her head out of the sunroof. “I found a fridge, Miss Crawford! Afridge! IN. SIDE. THE. CAR!” She lifts a can of Sprite over her head and cracks it open triumphantly, spilling sticky soda down her arm.

“We should go,” I tell Matt with a grimace. “If we leave them unsupervised for too long, you’re going to need industrial cleaners to get that interior back to normal.”

“After you, Miss Crawford.” Matt sweeps an arm toward the limo door, stepping back to give me room. I slide into the cool, dark interior. Technically, it’s early fall, but standing out in the sun for the last half hour was enough to make me glad I wore a breezy dress. Anything else and I’d probably be in danger of boob sweat.

I duck inside as gracefully as I can. My plan is to shimmy across the back bench and move to the far end of the limo—the side closest to the driver and farthest from Matthew. I don’t need the temptation of sitting next to him and smelling him the whole drive down to San Francisco.

But as soon as the kids saw me climbing into the car, they made a beeline for their seatbelts, buckling into all the seats closest to the front of the limo.

Matt slides in behind me, and I’m left with no option but to sit down where I am. It’s that or try to ride standing all the way to the stadium. I’m not much of a surfer, so I plop back on the bench. Matt grins as he buckles his seatbelt at my side. “This is going to be fun,” he says, rubbing his hands together.

An hour later, we pull into a VIP parking area. The driver opens the back door, and the kids climb over Matt and me, excitedly piling out of the limo and jumping around on a red carpet that leads to double glass doors.

“I want popcorn!”

“Can we get those foam fingers?!”

“Miss Crawford, Ireallyhave to pee!”

Matt’s smile is still genuine, but he has the slightly manic look in his eye of someone who’s not used to supervising hordes of kids in enclosed spaces. “How do you do this every day?” he asks me quietly.

“This?” I laugh. “There’s only six of them. Try teaching twenty-five of them for a whole school day.”

He shakes his head and mutters, “Yeah, they’d break me,” as he climbs out of the limo behind them. He holds out a hand, waiting for me to take it. I put my fingers in his. The warmth of his skin on mine sends a current coursing through my nerves. Delicious heat swirls in my stomach. If this is how he makes me feel when just our fingers touch, I’m pretty sure one kiss would make me come apart.

Matt guides us through security to an upper corridor. The very floor seems to vibrate with the excitement of the crowd gathered in the stadium below us. Matt stands with his back to a set of heavy wood doors.

“Alright, listen up,” he demands, a wrinkle between his serious brows. The kids clam right up, looking at him and trying so hard to be on their best behavior. “Here are the rules for the suite. Are you ready?”

They nod, raptly focused.

“Good. Because it’s incredibly important that you follow these.” He flings the doors open behind him, revealing a view that looks out over the green diamond. “Don’t hurt yourselves, and have the best day ever.” He steps aside, letting them file past him. They fan out, exploring the suite and calling out their findings.


Tags: Mae Harden Romance