Susan Mallery - Three Little Words

She was nice, he realized. Beautiful and nice. Talk about lethal.

He forced himself to concentrate. “Reese would like to take more classes here. Start training for a black belt. I worry he’s too young. He’s been playing soccer for years now and he’s talking about giving it up.”

Consuelo frowned. “Dumb-ass kid,” she grumbled, then winced. “Sorry. I meant, sometimes students get caught up in the initial excitement of what they’re doing and get overly enthused.”

The realization that she was human, just like everyone else, caused him to relax. He managed a full breath before saying, with pretend concern, “Did you just say ‘dumb-ass kid’?”

“I, uh...”

“Is that how you talk to my son and your other students?”

She raised her chin. “Sometimes. When they need to hear it. Look, Mr. Hendrix, this is a dangerous sport and there has to be complete discipline. I work with military experts and trained assassins. I also work with civilians and every now and then I forget who has delicate sensibilities and who doesn’t. If that gets your panties in a twist, then I’m probably not the best instructor for Reese.”

“My panties in a twist?”

She flushed. “I probably shouldn’t have said that, either.”

“Probably not.”

He folded his arms across his chest, aware that he was much taller than her. Not that it would help him in any kind of altercation. He was a math teacher and she was a... He realized he had no idea what she’d done before she’d moved to Fool’s Gold to work for CDS.

Regardless, he felt a little less out of control.

She looked up at him. “Reese is good. He’s athletic and coordinated. Does he have that incredible talent that comes along once in a generation? No. Sure, he could get his black belt and he probably will. But to give up everything else to focus on this?” She shrugged. “I’d make him wait a year and see if it’s still what he wants to do. Maybe add one more class a week. He’s a kid—he should have fun, not make a lifestyle choice.”

“I appreciate the advice.”

“It’s worth what you paid for.” She shifted on her feet. “Are you mad about what I said?”

“Will you hurt me if I say yes?”

It took her a second to realize he was kidding; then the smile returned. So did the sensation of being kicked in the gut. So much for being in control.

“I’m not good with parents,” she admitted. “I’ve gotten used to saying what I think.”

“Threatening people, and when that doesn’t work, beating the crap out of them?”

The smile broadened. “Exactly. Civilized conversation is highly overrated.”

“I agree. Unfortunately, I don’t have the freedom you do to say what I think.”

As soon as he made the statement, he saw the danger of it. Whatever connection he’d established with her was about to disintegrate like cotton candy in the rain.

She tilted her head and her layered, dark, shiny hair slipped over one shoulder. “You’re a math teacher, right?”

“In high school.”

She laughed softly and then put her hand on his forearm. He felt the heat of her touch clear down to his groin. “You’re far more brave than I could ever be. Teaching teenagers math.”

At least she hadn’t run screaming into another room. “Not just math. Algebra and geometry. Calculus.”

Her expression flashed with an emotion he couldn’t read. She withdrew her hand. “Tough gig,” she murmured.

He knew something had shifted, but he couldn’t say what. Why was she okay with him being a math teacher yet she retreated when he’d mentioned the specifics?

“I like it,” he admitted. “I like my kids and I know what they learn in my class can help them later in life. I have a special program for underachieving students. To bring them up to grade and convince them they can go to college.”

He told himself to stop talking—that he sounded like the neighborhood nerd showing off his homemade rocket.

“A worthy goal,” she said and took a step back.

A clear dismissal, he thought grimly, knowing he’d never had a chance and wondering where he’d gone so very wrong.

“I appreciate your time,” he said. “Thanks for the advice.”

“You’re welcome. He’s a great kid. You’re obviously a good dad.”

Kent nodded and left. As he walked to his car, he was conscious of the irony of the situation. After years of thinking he was still desperately in love with his ex-wife, despite the fact that she’d left him, he’d finally been willing to admit the truth. That she had abandoned him and her son and he’d been a fool to marry her in the first place. Determined to get on with his life, he wanted to start dating. To find someone special and fall in love.

Just his luck the first woman to capture his attention wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

* * *

FORD STOOD IN the emergency room’s waiting area of the Fool’s Gold Hospital wondering why this kind of thing always happened to him. He’d only meant to do what Leonard asked. A friendly tap to the jaw. He’d figured the other man would drop to the ground, what with never having been in a fight in his life. He would guess Leonard’s idea of physical toughness was to wash the car without putting on gloves.

As expected, Leonard’s legs had collapsed immediately. Unfortunately, as he’d gone down, he’d hit his head on the side of the Jeep and been knocked out cold. Which meant the 9-1-1 call had been a good idea. Only Ford had meant it to be preventive, not necessary.

“There you are!”

He turned and saw a medium-height woman with blue eyes and shoulder-length blond hair walking purposefully toward him. She was curvier than he remembered, and obviously pregnant, but otherwise pretty much the same. Except the last time he’d seen Maeve, she’d been in tears, and this time she looked as if she could spit fire.

“What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “What kind of moron goes around hitting other people?”

“I—”

“Tell me he’s okay. Damn it, Ford, I can’t believe you did this.”

“He—”

“Oh, sure. Blame it on Leonard. Do you think I don’t know why he went to see you?” She poked him in the chest. “Since you’ve been back in town, you’re all he could talk about. How he wanted to apologize and make things right. It’s been fourteen years. How on earth could anyone still be holding a grudge?”

“I—”

She glared at him. “You are over what happened, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” He paused to assess the truth of the statement. “Very.”

She raised her eyebrows.

He cleared his throat. “Not that you’re not lovely.”

She shoved him back a couple of steps. For a woman of her size and pregnancy trimester, she packed a punch. “You hit him!”

“He asked me to. He insisted. I didn’t hit him that hard. He hit his head on the way down. It wasn’t my fault.” He moved back voluntarily, thinking the more room between him and Maeve, the better.

“He’s a responsible person, unlike you,” she snapped. “The father of four and a half children. Did you think of that when you tried to kill him?”

“I didn’t try to kill him. Look, Leonard came to me.”

“Yes, and I expected you to be the adult in the situation. I see that was wrong. You’re exactly who you were when you left.”

“Hey, that’s not fair.”

She narrowed her gaze. “I’ll tell you what’s not fair. That my husband and the father of my children is in the hospital with a concussion because of what you did.”

“He hit his head,” Ford repeated helplessly.

The door to the waiting room opened and two uniformed officers walked in. The taller of the two women moved toward him. “Ford Hendrix?” she asked.