Lori Foster - Charade

“Just remember that when the novelty wears off and they get used to you. They can become a little more than rambunctious.”

There were several occasions to point out misconduct, ranging from offensive language to shoving. Once, Tyler had to break up a skirmish between two of the boys. By the time six o’clock rolled around, Tyler was beat and Carlie looked exhausted.

But still, she took the time to make certain each child was bundled up properly. She helped with tying shoes, answered numerous questions and convinced one little boy that he didn’t really want to hit another, just because the child had sneezed on him.

Then she gave the sneezer a tissue.

“I’m impressed,” Tyler told her, his eyes on her flushed face. “You’re really good with kids. You never once lost your temper.”

She shrugged off his compliment. “I enjoy them. They’re fun, and honest to a fault.”

Tyler felt a tug on his hand, and looked down at a little girl named Lucy. She was smiling at him, showing him the stuck zipper on her coat. He helped her get her coat closed, then tweaked her nose. As he started to stand, she threw her skinny arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. “Thank you, Mr. Ramsey. I had fun.”

Surprised, he looked toward Carlie, then ruffled the girl’s tangled hair. “I did too, Lucy.” She giggled, and Tyler grinned at her. “You’ll be here Monday?”

“Yes, sir.” She skipped away, leaving Tyler to stare after her.

“Whatever could that little girl have done to deserve detention? She’s a doll.”

Carlie waved goodbye to the last little boy, watching as he climbed into his parent’s car, before allowing the heavy gym door to close. She turned to Tyler, chuckling softly. “Lucy has a problem with her language. She could make a sailor blush when she puts her mind to it. Personally, I think she just wants attention. Her father took off about a year ago, and her mother has her hands full trying to take care of five kids, all under the age of fifteen. Lucy sort of falls into the middle of the group.”

Tyler turned away, his left hand rubbing the muscles of his neck. “I hate hearing stories like that. They make me want to strangle somebody.” He began idly bouncing the ball, just to give his hands something to do and his mind something to focus on other than the problems of innocent children. But it didn’t work. The issue was a sensitive one with him. “Why is it the kids who have to get hurt?”

“It’s always the ones who are most vulnerable. That’s simply human nature.” She shrugged philosophically, then took him by surprise, snatching the basketball out of his hands and dribbling it across the court.

Tyler watched her antics, knowing she was trying to distract him, and appreciating her efforts. Being with the children today reminded him of his own childhood. It had been rough for him and Jason, and when they’d become teenagers it had only gotten worse. Tyler had always pretended with his friends, bragging about the freedom he and Jason had, making it sound as if raising themselves had been a lark. And he had refused to admit to the embarrassment of having a mother who was the town “lightskirt.”

God, it had been hard. Luckily, he’d had Jason. But it wasn’t the same. Children needed an adult to look up to, someone they respected and who cared about them.

These kids had Carlie, but he wanted to help, too, wanted to make a difference.

“All right, Tyler,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “Enough moping over things you can’t change. I hereby challenge you to a little one-on-one. The first to make ten baskets wins.”

His grin was slow and filled with wicked delight. He put his hands on his hips, watching Carlie as she continued to expertly dribble the ball. “What are we betting?”

“That I can beat the pants off you.” Her tone was smug and taunting. And then she understood exactly what she’d said. She flushed scarlet.

“My pants? Well, Ms. McDaniels! It wasn’t enough to ogle me without my shirt? You want to strip me of all modesty?”

“That would be impossible.” Her face was still hot, but she began dribbling the ball again. “You don’t possess any modesty and probably never have.”

His grin widened. He approached her slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. “I’m ready when you are, sweetheart. But the stakes have to be worthwhile. Say...dinner? At the winner’s choice of place?”

Carlie gave him a confident smile. She did a fancy little feat of bouncing the ball behind her back, then between her knees, before shouting suddenly, “You’re on.” She raced down the court, scoring the first basket before he realized the game had started.

“Oh, ho! Getting tricky on me, huh? I like a woman who can take me by surprise.” Carlie faltered at his words, nearly losing the ball. Tyler lunged, staying right on her, his body looming over hers, his arms outreaching her, his legs able to cover the same amount of ground more quickly. Carlie claimed it was an even match.

She was good, real good. She dunked the ball three times before he had a chance to score. Then he got serious. But all the while, he grinned. He felt better than he had in a very long time.

They were both sweaty by the time the score was evened up, eight all. Tendrils of hair had come loose around Carlie’s face, sticking to her forehead and flushed cheeks. She looked done in, but still very determined to win. And she was laughing, obviously enjoying herself.

Then Tyler accidentally hit her. He made to jump for the ball, and his elbow smacked against her temple. Stumbling backward, she landed on her butt, her glasses slipping off her nose and dropping into her lap.

Tyler was horrified. “Oh, God, Carlie. I’m sorry!” He knelt beside her, taking her face in his hands, staring into her dazed eyes. Wide, hazel eyes. “Are you all right?”

She managed a slight, shaky smile. “I’m okay.” Then she looked up at him.

His eyes locked with hers, and his fingers moved an almost imperceptible amount. As he studied her, something seemed familiar, some memory tickling at the back of his mind. Those wide eyes....

Then Carlie broke the contact, pulling away from his hands.

“You knew you were about to lose, right? That’s why you belted me?” Her voice shook, and she tried another grin, but it was a weak attempt. Tyler wondered how badly she was hurt.

He was too busy trying to analyze the situation to answer right away. Carlie stuck her glasses firmly back on her nose, then called, “Yoo-hoo? Anybody home? Tyler?”

Finally, he shook his head, chasing away the errant confusion. “Sorry. Here, let me help you up.”

“I’m fine, Tyler. I don’t need any help.” He helped, anyway, giving Carlie no choice in the matter.

He turned her, holding her chin in his palm. “Let me look at you. I think you have a lump coming up already.”

She jerked away. “I told you, I’m fine. Quit fussing.”

Tyler propped his hands on his hips, worried and filled with guilt. “I’ll concede the game. Dinner is on me.”

Carlie looked down at herself, then shook her head. “Dressed like this? I don’t think so, but thanks, anyway.”

Her refusal didn’t surprise him, but it did annoy him. “You have to eat. It’s been a long day.”

“I have stew in the Crock-Pot at home. You’re free and clear.”

He picked up his shirt, drying the sweat from his chest and arms with it. He didn’t particularly want to be free. “Stew sounds good. We bachelors don’t get a home-cooked meal all that often.”

Carlie raised her eyes to his, a look of disbelief mirroring her thoughts.

As hints went, his was blatantly clear and he held his breath while waiting to see what she would say.