1
Isabelle
“Mm-mm-mm.They sure don’t grow boys like that out east.”
My friend and coworker, Rose, and I are both staring at the same man. “Yeah, well,he’snot the typical Iowa farm boy.”
“I think you meanman. Farmman. Because there’s no boy left in that.” She points at his backside as he walks down the long corridor away from us.
I snicker at her words because it’s what I do when I get nervous. I giggle, snicker, snort, or straight-up laugh out loud. It’s my coping mechanism in situations that are too awkward for me to handle. “Even when he was a teen, he looked like that.” The tall, dark-haired, muscled, beautiful man in question? Nashville James Watson. But everyone just calls him Nash.
“God, Izzy, how did you not throw yourself at that man back then?” She arches her brow. “Or now.You’resingle.”
“Easy. He’s my brother’s best friend and two years older than me.” Not to mention, I wasnotthe kind of girl he went with. Cheerleaders and prom queens, those were his type. Actually, he went with one girl that fit both those bills: Ivy DeLucas.
Rose scoffs, “Two years is nothing now. I heard he’s single.”
“He is.” And the last I knew he wasn’t looking for anything serious. “I think he’s playing the field.”
Rose snickers. “I’dplay in his field….”
“Shh.” I giggle. See? Nerves. Whispering, I add, “Someone will hear you.” And that’s definitely not what we’re supposed to be doing on Open House night at our school. “We’re professionals.” I give her my haughtiest look, nose in the air and everything. “And what about your husband? He’s great looking.”
“First of all, I love my sexy husband, but it doesn’t hurt to look, and two, nobody can hear us way back here.” Our classrooms are the last two doors in the main hallway.
Rose is our Special Education teacher, and this is my first year as the Title 1 Reading teacher at Honeywell Elementary School. Heck, it’s my first year of teaching, period. I just graduated last spring. I wasn’t sure about coming home. I’d hoped to find something in a big city or at least a town closer to civilization, but nothing panned out, and believe me, I tried. Luckily, I grew up in this town and the superintendent is a friend of my folks; otherwise, I’d probably be unemployed or, worse, working as a waitress like I did in college. No thanks.
Truthfully, I’m torn. A small part of me is glad to be back. The other part wishes I’d found a job somewhere else, somewhere nobody already knew me so I could be anyone I wanted to be. I could have beenIsabelle, but instead, I’m back and I’m still boring old Izzy Harmon.
At least I have a job in my field. That’s more than I can say about some of my friends from college. It’s great because I love kids and I’m looking forward to working with all these little humans. I know some of them are children of people I grew up with, so that will be good, I guess. For the most part anyway.Think positive, Izzy.
Itwillbe good.
I’m jolted from my thoughts when I feel my body lurch forward and realize Rose must have pushed me into his path. When he looks down at me, I blush and fumble with words. “Oh.” Giggle. “Hi, Nash.”
“Hey,” he says, walking past me like he doesn’t know me. The thing is, hedoesknow me. He saw me practically every day for years because Nash and my brother, Isaac, were best friends and as far as I know, they still are. Heck, Nash was Isaac’s best man in his wedding. I know because I was there. I was a bridesmaid. I’m pretty sure he saw me there, and Lord knows I haven’t changedthatmuch. Yes, I’ve changed a little bit. I started taking a kickboxing class in college and never stopped. I love to kick and punch stuff. Who knew? It helped turn my round, soft body into a curvy soft body. I have a waist, something I never had growing up. But there are things that won’t ever change thanks to heredity, and that’s okay. I’m embracing my body. I’m built just like my mom, and I happen to think she’s gorgeous. Other than that, I’m the same Izzy Harmon he used to ignore back in high school.
You know what, never mind him. I don’t need to be recognized by the town’s most eligible bachelor and a guy who smells better than I remember, like man and earth. Nope, I don’t need him to acknowledge me even though I honestly considered him a friend, sort of. Turns out he’s just as snobby and perfect as he was back then. Too good for the likes of me. I snort and can’t help saying, “You know, if he’d gotten down off his high horse, his pedestal, once in a while, maybe he would have ended up with a good woman instead of in the mess he’s in right now.”
“Who are you talking to?” Rose whispers as she side-eyes me.
“Nobody.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest and scowl at the little angel who just stopped in front of me. As soon as I see him, I uncross my arms and bend so I’m at his level. He’s got to be in second grade. “Hi there. I’m Miss Harmon.”
“I know.” He’s not smiling. “I’m Marcus. I guess you’re my new reading teacher.”
“I am.” I hold out my hand to shake his, but that’s a nonstarter. “I’m anxious to get to know you.”
Marcus doesn’t hold back. “I liked Mrs. Hiller.”
Yep, kids are honest. It’s so refreshing.
“I know. Me too.” I mean that. Mrs. Hiller was an elementary teacher whenIwas in elementary school. But she died last year. She won’t be coming back, but I won’t say that aloud because that would be rude. Unfeeling.
“Dude, Mrs. Hiller croaked.”
I look up to see a boy several years older than Marcus.
