“That you’d have to dust off the ole grammar knowledge you ‘misplaced’ to help with his homework?” ribbed Abby.
Connor blinked. Seriously, who was this woman?
Jim chortled heartily. “You caught me. That’s why I’m so glad our firm hires well-written paralegals and first-years.”
“Hence my stand on standardizing a more rigorous business and technical writing curriculum in core education.” Abby threw an I-told-you-so grin over at Brian. “Brian, this is James Holt, one of the greatest legal minds in the city…well, next to your father and brother of course. James, this is Brian Sullivan of
those
Sullivans,” she editorialized behind an impishly cupped hand. “He’s the rebel son who chose the path of teaching business economics over lawyering.”
Brian and Hank shook hands and immediately launched into conversation over current commerce affairs.
Never had Connor felt so invisible.
“You can get back to your party now,” said Abby in a conspiratorial tone. “I’ll keep an eye on Brian for you tonight.”
The innocuous words hit him like a bucket of ice on his lap, shriveling his growing interest in the woman right up.
Reality check, jackass—she was
Brian’s
date.
Brian’s smart, captivating, completely off-limits date.
He took a blatant step away from the all too fascinating brunette and fumbled for a recovery, “I, uh…thanks. For taking care of it for me. Him, not it...Brian, that is.” Rendered idiotic by the amused, utterly female smile curving her plump lips, he finished lamely, “You’re good for him.”
“Thanks, Connor. I’ve always thought the same of you.”
Lord, he could listen to the way she said his name all day. Her husky teacher voice inspired instant fantasies of the lusty sex-in-the-classroom variety.
Yep, he had to get the hell away from her. Fast.
“You’re right, I should return to my guests. It’s been a pleasure, Abby.” With a cursory nod, he excused himself like a bat out of hell, waiting until he was safely at the other end of the room before allowing himself a casual glance back.
Just in time to see Brian whisper in her ear, of course.
“
Y
OU WERE GETTING READY
to hit on Victoria.”
“What?!
No
!”
Abby snickered at the degree of horror in Brian’s voice as she recounted the party events from two nights prior. “Yup. It was a close call, too. I got you out of your brother’s house when you started saying how hot she was.” She tsked into the phone. “I told you all that expensive liquor Connor keeps would sneak up on you harder than the cheap stuff we drink.”
“Still.
Victoria
?”
She could almost hear him shuddering.
“Good god, I’m glad you saved me when you did. I knew it’d be a good idea to bring you to that party.”
“Except now Connor thinks you and I are dating.”
“So what if he does?” queried Brian indifferently. “Maybe now he’ll stop giving me those pitying looks he thinks I don’t see. You don’t mind playing along, do you?”
She thought about it for a second. “No, I guess not. I only see the man every few years or so.”
And he evidently only remembers me every ten.
The pity party from that depressing fact was quickly broken up by the blaring school bell over the phone line. She checked the time. “Is that the end of lunch for you?”
“Yeah, but I have a prep period next.”
“Nice. So, how’s the first day going so far?”
“Great if you don’t count how many rabid alpha students I have again this year,” he grumbled, though affectionately. “I swear, some of these kids think they’re getting their MBAs. If their term projects weren’t
coincidentally
due right before winter ball and prom, I’m pretty sure they’d turn in fifty-page papers.”
Coincidence. Sure. If she had a penny for every time she’d had to help him grade papers at the last minute she’d be loaded. Though a brilliant teacher, Brian had astonishingly little regard for assessments.
“Oh hey, speaking of school dances,” Abby grinned finkishly, “I hear Skylar can look forward to her first one soon. You freaking out yet?”
Brian groaned. “Don’t remind me. My BP is not ready for a preteen daughter at a dance with boys. Did she call you specifically to complain about my lack of joy in all this?”
“Actually she told me when I was over there yesterday.”
“You came over?”
“During the four hours you slept off your hangover, yes.”
“Ah, that solves the case of the missing dirty dishes.”
“Guilty. Oh, and I tasted the culinary genius you made her before you went back to bed. I thought the eggs had a superb crunch.”
“Why, thanks. Shell bits give it an extra zing, I think.”
“Not to mention added protein, too…which went well with the waffles I made her.”
He sighed. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?”
“Often. Why just the other night, I recall at least a dozen instances. The fact that they were all localized to my chest area as I dragged your drunk butt into your house didn’t diminish the heartfelt sentiment behind the words one bit.”
“
Shit
.” The horror returned to his voice. “Okay, that’s it, no more devil’s juice for me. I clearly can’t handle the stuff.”
She gasped in mock alarm. “You mean our MMA fight nights will be limited to pizza and
soda
.”
He paused. “Good point. I guess I’ll have to keep beer on the list of acceptable beverages. Just for you.”
“You’re so good to me,” she chuckled as she checked the time again. “Shoot, I better get going. I’m meeting with a few teachers about expanding my tutoring roster this year.”
“I thought you weren’t going to start volunteering until September,” he admonished sternly. “You can’t keep putting off your dissertation. The kids can get by without you.”
“Just setting everything up, I promise. No worries, I’m sticking to my plan. Just me and my laptop ‘til I go back to work.”
“Good. I already instructed Skylar to gather her friends and chase you out of school if you showed up over the next three weeks. We also blacked out every day on the calendar until ASU is back in session to remind us to leave you alone.”
“No need to go
that
far. I won’t be writing the entire time. And since my teaching line is straight freshman comp again this semester, I’m all set with my syllabus and lesson plans already. I’ll still have some time to hang out.”
“Well, then you can do that with your colleagues and the other equally brainy candidates in your program. Go get all academic again. Skylar and I have been monopolizing your time way too much lately. If you’re not careful, you’ll find yourself in front of your doctoral defense panel dropping Skylar’s OMGs and my far more delightful f-bombs.”
Oy, her professors would think she was having a seizure and send her back to pre-dissertation comp exams for sure.
“Besides,” he continued, “we’ve already begun the detox process to do without our Abby fix for a few weeks. Sure, we’ll be strung out since you’ve gotten us all addicted to your greatness, but we’ll be fine. Really,” he assured softly.
A wash of tears stung her eyes. “Okay. Well you tell Skylar I’m never too busy for her
.
Or her dad.”
“Sure thing.” The awkward pause that followed had him quickly clearing his throat. “Alright, my prep period’s almost up so I better finish eating. Happy writing, babe.”
Abby hung up the phone with a pinch of sadness. Three whole weeks without talking to Brian on a daily basis?
Huh.
Ten-to-one odds he’ll crack first.
Abby eyed the ominous black clouds that had appeared out of nowhere sometime during her last meeting of the day. “Great,” she muttered, rubbing her bare arms. Arizona’s unpredictable monsoon season at its finest.
In a mocking curtsy, Mother Nature smoothly edged out the last tiny bit of blue in the sky and dumped a city-dousing waterfall of rain onto the ground within a six-second window.
Lovely. Not even a nice drizzle to give her a head start.
“
Don’t you even think about it!
”
Abby spun around to see Evelyn Ramirez, the English department head running down the hall with a fire hydrant yellow
Piñon Pine Middle School
rain cloak. “You were going to run out in that downpour, weren’t you?” she accused as she slapped the school spirit poncho into Abby’s grateful hands.
Abby smiled sheepishly. “I don’t live that far away.”
A disapproving headshake was all she got back as she donned the thin plastic, glad that it was long enough to cover the book bag at her hip. “Thanks Eve. I’ll return it tomorrow.”
“You most certainly will not. You’re not coming in, remember? That dissertation isn’t going to write itself, missy. And if you come around after school one day with your bleeding heart, these kids will pounce and
suck you dry
.”
At Eve’s fierce look, which was at least half serious, Abby laughed. “Okay, I’ll keep it as a reminder of just that.”
A crash of thunder made them both jump. Eve studied the courtyard through the sheets of rain coming down. “That’s a storm, alright. You better just make a break for it now.”
Abby was thinking the same thing. After a final thanks, she darted out into the pounding rain.
Exiting the school premises, she cut to the shortest route back to her house, resigned to splash through ankle-deep road puddles to save time. With just a block left to go, however, she spotted a girl huddling under a sidewalk tree, trying in vain to stay dry.
“Skylar?” she called out, wiping the water out of her eyes to make sure she was seeing correctly.
The girl’s guarded stranger-danger expression dissolved into a relieved smile. “Abby, hi!”
Running over, Abby again cursed the fickle Arizona weather when she saw that Skylar was similarly not dressed for the rain. “Why aren’t you at your Uncle Connor’s?”
“I stayed back afterschool to sign-up for some clubs. Then out of the blue, it started pouring. I’ve been trying to call my dad because I figured he and Coach Bill would cancel football tryouts but he isn’t answering his cell.”
“Your dad had a faculty meeting before practice today so he probably doesn’t have his phone on.” Without thinking twice, Abby immediately yanked off her new sunbright rain barrier and slipped it over Skylar’s head.
“What are you doing?”
“I have way more padding than you, hon. You need it to stay warm.” While Skylar was busy trying to find the poncho’s elusive armholes, Abby rustled around in her bag for one of the plastic bags she usually kept in case she needed to carry library books when she was doing research. Finding one, she wrapped up her book bag to protect it from the rain. “Okay, there are no two ways about it, we just have to make a mad dash for your uncle’s house.” She gripped Skylar’s hand. “Ready?”
Skylar’s wary ‘
not really
’ was still hanging in the air under the tree when Abby yanked her out into the rain and started them on a frantic two-block sprint uphill in the opposite direction of her own home.
By the time they got to Connor’s mini McMansion, Abby was sure she looked like a drowned stray cat. She certainly felt like one. Racing up the absurdly long driveway, she wordlessly pointed to the side yard, knowing she’d never be heard over the drumming rain. Skylar just nodded and followed her around the house to the back porch. The night of the party, Abby remembered seeing a mudroom of sorts at that entrance. As water-logged as they were, she didn’t want to attempt the grand front entry.
“OMG! That was insane!” screeched Skylar when they finally managed to dive under cover.
Chortling in agreement, Abby clutched her side and tried to catch her breath. A long distance sprinter she was not.
As soon as she was physically able to speak without gasping, she pushed Skylar into the house. “Go in and get warmed up. I’m sure your uncle has an old t-shirt and drawstring swim trunks you can borrow while you throw your wet clothes in the dryer. If he doesn’t, or if they look to be made out of some fancy materials worth more than your ipod, text me and I’ll drive back over here with some spare clothes.”
“Wait, you’re going? You can’t walk back to your house in all this rain. Come in and wait it out.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s going to let up, kiddo. I’ll be fine. A few more minutes of rain won’t kill me.”
“Well at least let me find you an umbrella. I’ll go check the closets.” Skylar bounded down the hall, clearly knowing where she was going in this museum of a home.
“Don’t track water onto the carpet!” Abby hollered after her, marveling over the echo that bounced off the crown molding and pristine marble floors. Why a hardcore bachelor needed such a huge, extravagant house was beyond her.
Realizing that she was dripping all over the flagstone porch, she went over to the covered walkway near the garage to wring out about a gallon of desert rain from her hair. Normally, she loved having long, thick hair that could knock out an innocent bystander if she attempted to do a shampoo commercial hair flip. Today was not one of those days.