Beth Andrews - Caught Up in You

At least not according to Sam McNamara, Shady Grove Elementary School’s principal.

She twisted her engagement ring. “Maybe you don’t understand how important it is—”

“I’m not an idiot.”

Something in his gruff tone, in his hard expression, gave her pause. Made her think she’d somehow insulted him. “I never thought—”

“We’re done.”

He stood. The man actually stood. And he’d dismissed her, as if he had the right to end this meeting. Stunned, she stared for a moment, her mouth slack, her mind reeling. She’d done everything right, the way it was supposed to be done. She’d talked to Max’s first-grade teacher, had checked his file to get more insight into his schoolwork the past two years. Then she’d met with both Julie Giron, the school’s guidance counselor, and Sam about her concerns, had gotten their go-ahead to bring up those concerns with Max’s father.

The only way she’d veered away from the usual protocol in situations like this was by meeting with Eddie alone instead of with Julie and Sam. She’d thought Eddie would appreciate her discussing Max’s situation with him one-to-one.

That was the last time she tried to be nice to someone just because they’d known each other since the first day of kindergarten and had relatives dating each other—his brother, her cousin.

Hurrying around her desk, she stepped in front of him and smiled. Okay, it was more a baring of teeth, but surely she couldn’t be faulted for one tiny slipup.

“Eddie, I’m not sure what the problem is,” she said, all faux conciliatory and apologetic. She checked on Max, who was still engrossed in his game. “I certainly didn’t mean to offend you in any way.”

She waited. And what did she get for her patience? Nothing. Not even one of his nods or shrugs.

Easy to see where Max got his reserve from.

“It’s important that we assess what issues Max is having so he can overcome them and reach his highest potential.”

“Why? So you can bump up the school’s test scores?”

“This has nothing to do with standardized testing.” The bane of teachers everywhere. Luckily for her, they didn’t start testing kids until third grade. “It has to do with helping Max.”

Her only priority.

Eddie shifted closer, bringing with him the scent of sawdust. “Maybe this isn’t Max’s fault.”

“I’m sorry. I’m having trouble following you.” Hard to believe seeing as how he used as few words as possible to get his point across, but there you had it.

“If you did your job—did it better—Max wouldn’t be having problems.”

Her vision assumed a definite red tint, her fingers curled around the stapler.

She heard him, of course. He stood right before her, close enough for her to see the starburst of gold around his pupils, to notice that his right front tooth slightly overlapped the left. She even understood what he’d said as his meaning had been crystal clear. But his voice was like a roar in her head. A whooshing wave that swept away all her good intentions and drowned any hope she had of remaining professional.

And it was all Eddie Montesano’s fault. She’d tried to be polite. To not let her growing frustration with him show. But did he appreciate her efforts or the great strength of willpower it’d taken her not to simply lift the stapler and hit him upside the head with it? Did he consider what was best for his son or care that all she wanted was to figure out how they could work together to help Max?

No, no and triple no. He blamed her, accused her of not doing her job.

Oh, yeah, all bets were officially off.

“Max,” she called loudly, setting the stapler on her desk and peeling her fingers off it. She tucked her hands behind her back—just to be on the safe side.

When Max looked up and took the headphones off, she forced her tone to remain light. Easy. No simple task when she was two seconds away from kicking his father in the shin. “Your dad and I will be in the hallway. Please wait here.”

Eddie grabbed the sweatshirt and tugged it on. “I have nothing to say.”

“That’s a shock,” she muttered. “It’ll only take a few minutes,” she assured him from between gritted teeth when his head became visible again.

He glanced at Max, who watched them with wide eyes, obviously picking up on the tension in the room. Finally, Eddie brushed past her.

Fuming so hard she lifted her hands to her ears to make sure steam wasn’t billowing from them, she followed him out into the hallway. She shoved her sleeves up to her elbows. She was sweating. She was actually sweating she was so angry. Her skin overheated, her blood boiled. She shut the door with a quiet click, wishing she could slam it with a resounding bang, open it and slam it shut again.

“If you have a problem with me teaching your son,” she said, proud of the composure that kept her tone calm, her temper in check despite the trembling of her fingers, “you may certainly take it up with the principal. But for the record, all I want is for my kids to do well. To succeed.”

“Your kids?”

That composure cracked enough to have her lifting her chin, straightening her spine. “I’m with those children—your child—for close to eight hours a day, one hundred and eighty days of the year. I feel a connection to them, so yes, they’re my kids. In a certain context.”

More than a connection, she felt a responsibility toward them. It was up to her to help them reach their highest potential.

She crossed her arms. “How about we clear the air so we can move forward and both do what’s best for Max. What, exactly, is your problem with me?”

Surprise and, if she wasn’t mistaken, respect flashed in his eyes before they shuttered again.

“No problem.”

Her left eye twitched. She pressed the tips of her fingers against it. “No need to hold back.” She certainly didn’t like to keep her opinions, her thoughts to herself. Not when she could share them with the world. “I can’t fix the problem if I don’t know what it is.”

Eddie wiped his palm down his mouth. His jaw tight, his shoulders rigid, he gave a short nod. “You’re judging Max based on our history.”

Finally they were getting somewhere. “Max’s and your history? Because I’m not all that familiar with it. I mean, I know you’re divorced and that Max’s mother lives in Chicago—”

“Our—” he gestured between them “—history.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I hadn’t realized we—” she mimicked his gesture “—had a history.”

Sure, they’d gone to school together but they hadn’t run with the same crowd. Actually, she couldn’t remember Eddie running with any crowd. Then again, she hadn’t paid much attention to him. Boys like Eddie Montesano had never been her type, though a small segment of her girlfriends had found him appealing.

She had no idea why.

Okay, so he wasn’t exactly a troll, and yes, he had the whole not-quite-tall, dark and handsome thing going for him with a wide chest and flat stomach. His hair was thick and brushed back from his high forehead to fall in wavy disarray. He had heavy eyebrows, a sharp, square jawline covered in dark stubble and a Roman nose with a prominent bridge.

All in all, a pretty package. But Harper had always preferred guys who were more charming, less brooding. Outgoing instead of introverted. Lighter in coloring and personality.

Men like Beau, her blond, blue-eyed husband, who’d swept her off her feet with his humor, charm and joy for life.

Her throat tightened, and she swallowed a pang of grief. Averted her gaze so Eddie didn’t see the pain she knew must be in her eyes. She missed Beau so much. Every day without him was a step in a new direction, toward a future without the man she’d promised to love for the rest of her life.