Jean Gordon - Winning the Teacher's Heart

“No problem,” said the one person she did want to talk to.

Looking back at Jared and his controlled features, she swallowed. Or the one person she’d thought she wanted to talk to.

* * *

Jared’s heart twisted in unison with Becca’s scowl. He should have known things were going too smoothly. Although he’d done all his prep work carefully, he’d expected some opposition to his plans. But Becca Norton wasn’t the person he’d pictured spearheading it.

“Thanks,” she said again, her expression looking more pensive now that she’d turned fully toward him. “I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Like I didn’t realize you were on the Zoning Board.”

Becca’s hint of a smile disappeared. He could have kicked himself for not guarding his words. He needed to woo, not alienate Becca. Woo her in the sense of convincing her of the good his motocross school would do. Any other wooing was out of the question. He studied her heart-shaped face for a moment. As if he, a Donnelly, would have any chance with a woman like Becca. He shook off his pity trip back in time. “That didn’t come out quite right.”

“It’s okay. Do you have a couple of minutes to talk? I’ll check this out.” She raised the gallon of milk she held. “And we can get a cup of coffee or something.”

“Sure. I need to pick up some coffee for the morning, too.” Jared walked to the grocery shelf and grabbed a large can of coffee, then put it back in favor of a smaller bag of a special dark roast. He made his way to the checkout at the front of the store and looked around.

Becca motioned to him from one of the tables in the deli area. “Over here. You did want coffee, right? I have it covered.” A waitress who looked vaguely familiar placed two heavy mugs on the table in front of her.

He ground his teeth. Not that he was a chauvinist. But he was used to being the one who picked up the tab, did for others. What she was earning at the day-care center, or as a high school teacher, for that matter, couldn’t come close to the income from his invested race winnings. His fingers tightened around the bag of coffee. That sounded too much like his money-obsessed brother Josh.

“You remember Lori Lyons.” Becca smiled at the waitress.

“Sure, I do.” Lori had been another one of the untouchables on the cheerleading squad with Becca. “I was sorry to hear about Stan.”

“Thank you,” Lori said. “I appreciated your card.”

Becca knitted her brows in question.

When Jared had heard about Lori’s husband Stan’s death in a NASCAR accident shortly after he’d lost a close friend on the motocross circuit, he’d felt a connection to Lori and had shot her off a sympathy card. “My grandmother told me about Stan’s accident,” he said in explanation.

Becca’s expression turned thoughtful. He’d have to be careful or he’d lose his tough-guy image.

“I’d love to catch up,” Lori said. “But my shift is done and I need to pick the girls up from Stan’s mother’s house. She babysits for me when I have to work during the evening.” She turned to Jared. “I have ten-year-old twins. I usually work days, so I have to get them up early for day care tomorrow.”

Jared scuffed his toe against the table leg. Lori was being a little too friendly for him. They hadn’t been friends in school and, as callous as it sounded, he’d sent her the sympathy card as much as a way to work through his own grief as a true condolence.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Becca,” Lori said. “And why don’t you— ” she pointed at Jared “—stop by after the lunch rush some afternoon this week. I’d love to hear about your time on the circuit.” She shot a dazzling smile his way and gave him a flirty wave before walking back behind the counter and into the kitchen.

Yep, way too friendly, which he couldn’t say about Becca, given her dark frown. Unless she was jealous of Lori. They had been rivals in school. He yanked out the chair across the table from Becca. Only in his mind. The source of Becca’s frown more likely could be chalked up to his plans for the racing school and Lori getting in the way of Becca speaking her mind about it.

He slid into the chair and wrapped his hands around the coffee mug. “I take it you want to talk about the track.”

“I do.” The sip of coffee she took sweetened her frown into what could almost be called a smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I ordered your coffee. It’s a regular.” She glanced at the specialty coffee he’d bought. “But maybe you’d like something different.”

He lifted the bag of coffee. “This is for Connor. I’m good with anything black that doesn’t taste like motor oil.”

She took another sip of her coffee and gazed at him over the rim of the cup, her brown eyes colored with apprehension. “The Zoning Board’s decision surprised you.”

He bit his tongue before he said something he’d regret. “Right. The town attorney had told my attorney everything looked like a go. That there wouldn’t be a need for a public hearing.”

“That’s my fault.”

He took a healthy draw of his coffee and waited.

“I didn’t get the agenda for the meeting until yesterday afternoon, and what I got didn’t have a lot of details. With work and the kids, I didn’t have time to do any research. Evidently, the other board members and the town attorney already had discussed it. Tonight was my first board meeting.”

“Yeah. Dan, my attorney, and I had felt out the town building inspector about the project a while ago, before I’d decided on a spot to build it.”

“That spot being my backyard.”

“Not exactly your backyard.” He’d made a tactical error not sounding out the property owners on Conifer Road about his idea when Bert had first written him about his intention to leave him the acreage. But it had seemed like everything was coming together for him. He looked across the table. Until now.

“Close enough for me and some of my neighbors to have some questions.”

“Ask away.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Why? Why come back here when you could go anywhere?”

He worked to maintain his casual pose, while a small blaze lit inside him. From her words, it sounded to him as if she was as opposed to him being in Paradox Lake as she was to him building his racing school here. He’d thought better of her. Correction. He’d thought better of the image of Becca he held in his head from high school. An image that could be all wrong.

“Yes, I could go anywhere. I could build the school and motocross track here and run it from somewhere else. Let me ask you a question. Is it the racing school or me you have a problem with?”

Becca blanched and he slunk down in his chair. What had gotten into him, jumping to a dumb conclusion like that? He knew. He wanted this project to succeed with the same competitive hunger that had made him a champion racer. And the stakes here were greater than any race’s.

“I’m sorry if that’s how I sounded.”

The contrition in her voice tore at him worse than her misinterpreted question.

“I’ll start over. My neighbors and I have some valid concerns about a motocross track near our homes, some of the same concerns we had when Bert Miller was considering selling his property to a syndicate bidding on a state gambling license.”

Becca was equating his racing school for needy kids to a gambling casino? The banked flame in his belly reignited.

“Other people in the community may have issues, too. I thought it would help me if I knew why you wanted to build it here.”

“Understandable. I...”

The ring of her cell phone interrupted him.

She pulled the phone from her pocket and glanced at it. “I have to take it. It could be about the kids.”