Kaci willfully ignored the cannon dudes.
She’d had a lot of practice at willfully ignoring things in the past few months.
Willfully ignoring that she’d committed togetting on two more airplanes to speak at two more conferences. Willfully ignoring that she still had two more years of teaching before she could go before the tenure board, and that she still hadn’t made friends with the old cronies who would decide her fate. She kept half hoping at least one or two would retire before then.
Willfully ignoring that Lance’s squadron was supposed to be home sometime today since Devon-slash-Juice Box had left earlier this week.
Not straining for sounds of cargo planes or casting glances at the sky every few minutes.
She pinched her lips together and resisted stomping.
He’d kept emailing—short notes every few days to every few weeks, which she responded to in equally short terms—but that didn’t change anything.
He was still a military pilot first and foremost, and she was still a physics professor who needed job stability.
Zada jogged past. “I’ll grab the vegetables,” she called behind her.
Pumpkins were scarce, and the imported watermelons Kaci had found were expensive, so her students were using cloth bags stuffed with potatoes for a few test runs on Ichabod. She wrenched her eyes away from the sky and stepped over to watch the girls load the catapult.
“That potato’s face looks like Zada’s ex-boyfriend.”
“Let’s crush him.”
“Smashed potato face, coming up. Hey, anybody want to go to the movies tonight?”
“Excuse me. Is one of you Dr. Boudreaux?” A rotund gentleman whose Confederacy uniform was bursting at the buttons stopped at the edge of their group.
“That’s me, sugar. What can we do for you?”
“We got word you might could help us fire our cannon.”
She swiveled her attention between the man and his cannon, but her gaze snagged on something else at the edge of the cluster of Civil War reenactors.
A tall, lanky, dark-haired captain in a flight suit and aviator sunglasses.
Her heart skipped a beat.
No, it skipped about six beats, and then it tripped over itself catching back up.
“I’ve always wanted to fire a cannon,” she whispered.
The Civil War soldier grinned. “That’s what that young feller over there said when he asked us to come out and practice today.”
No.
Oh, no no no.
He wasnotusing her redneck nature toget to her heart.
She’d kill him. She’d stuffhimin that cannon and see how far he could fly.
Why couldn’t he just let her go?
“Man just got back from war,” the soldier said. “Can’t leave him hanging, miss.”
Whispers went up among her students. “Is that your boyfriend, Dr. Boudreaux?”
“Are you dating one of the cheaters?”
