The boy’s excitement tickled Adam. It was a reminder of why he loved working with kids. They didn’t do artifice. Whatever they felt, their faces, and sometimes their mouths, told you so.
“You’re welcome, James. I’m glad to help.”
The boy stepped aside and let Adam into the house. The same warm infusion of color he found on the walkway met him again inside her foyer.
Adam tried to focus more on the décor of the open living room, but found himself distracted by an enticing scent.
“What is that smell? It’s divine.”
James showed him a mouthful of teeth as he proudly stated, “Ma’s cinnamon buns. They’re better than anything at Cinnabon and Auntie Anne’s, I promise you.”
“Are they ready yet?”
It was a bad idea to eat something that decadent before he was about to get on the court, but the delightful smell of cinnamon filling the house was worth the cramps he knew he’d get if he indulged first.
“No, you smell the sugar, butter, and cinnamon she heated up on the range. Once it cools, she’ll spread it out on the dough. I promise you, there’s nothing like her cinnamon rolls fresh out the oven.”
The boy walked him to the back of the house where he entered a large, bright kitchen where Janae was standing at the counter with her body slightly shaking as she sprinkled whatever spice she had in her hand into a bowl.
Sensing his presence, she lifted her eyes and graced him with a welcoming smile.
“Oh hey, Adam. Glad you could make it.”
Adam had never been a man who needed to see a woman in a domesticated role in order to find her worth. But damn if Janae wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen standing there in fitted jeans and a crop top sweater underneath a black apron that read, “Seasoning Makes Everything Better.” She damn sure wasn’t lying, because seeing her flavor displayed in her outfit was doing everything to ramp up his appetite for her.
“Hi, Janae.”
He could feel the stupid juvenile smile curling on his lips as he gave her a simple wave to greet her. He hadn’t felt like this, so enamored, so taken, since his crush on his sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Lerner.
This however was no schoolboy crush. No, this was something deeper that raked through him like sharp claws through silk.
“You ready, Dr. Henderson?”
James’ voice rang through like the world’s loudest alarm clock, shaking him out of his lustful thoughts instantly.
“Sure,” Adam answered, forcing himself to be an attentive adult and look the young man in his eyes. “Go get set up. I need to talk to your mom for a minute. Is that okay?”
The young man’s eyes opened slightly wider, as if he were somehow surprised Adam had asked his permission for something.
“Sure thing, Dr. Henderson.” James moved to the door maintaining the same surprised look on his face. Unfortunately, it was an expression Adam was all too familiar with.
As an educator, he often saw firsthand how adults treated kids, as if they had no say whatsoever in their lives. Adam believed in firm boundaries. But within the confines of those boundaries, he also believed children should have some choice about what happened to and around them.
“Thanks, James.” Adam’s thoughtful response awarded him a respectful nod before the boy grabbed his basketball from the side of the patio door.
“Your kids must’ve loved you when you were in the classroom.”
Adam could feel that sickeningly sweet smile blooming on his lips again and he tried hard to keep it from blossoming into a full-blown grin.
“I won ‘Teacher of the Year’ more times than I can count.”
“Do you miss it?” Her eyes were bright with honesty and genuine interest when she asked that question. This wasn’t mere small talk, she really wanted to know.
“Sometimes.” His answer was simple but truthful. He loved being inside the classroom with the kids. But he realized he could do more for them as an administrator than he could being one teacher in a classroom. “Lesson planning was a lot more fun than worryingabout the budget of an entire district. Yet the emotional stress seeing the firsthand impact of how schools often fail kids, that part wasn’t so enjoyable.”
“I don’t imagine it was.”
“No,” he answered. “It wasn’t. But this isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about. Work can wait until Monday.”
