“Complicated,” she repeated, tasting the word. “Ben?—”
The classroom door banged open.
“Miss Sara! I forgot my—oh!”
Sara jerked back as if she’d been burned, her face flaming, as Maisie rushed into the room. Ben moved even faster, putting the length of the room between them before she could blink.
“Maisie.” Her voice came out shaky. “What did you forget, sweetheart?”
The little girl was staring at Ben with wide eyes, her forgotten lunchbox clutched to her chest, a gap-toothed smile slowly spreading across her face.
“You’re a bunny,” she breathed.
Ben’s ears twitched. “I’m?—”
“A big fluffy bunny!” Maisie darted across the room before Sara could stop her, wrapping her arms around Ben’s leg. “Can I pet you? Please, please, please?”
Sara watched, frozen, as Ben looked down at the tiny elf child attached to his shin. Something shifted in his face—the hard edges softening, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.
“I’m not—” he started.
“Please?” Maisie’s voice was pure, weaponized adorableness. “My mommy says bunnies are soft.”
Ben looked at her. She looked back, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and gave him a helpless shrug.
“Only if Mr. Ben says it’s okay,” she said, trying to be the responsible adult in the room.
His gaze dropped to Maisie, who was gazing up at him with hero-worship in her enormous eyes. He let out a quiet sigh, the sound of a male who had fought a battle and lost before it even began, and slowly bent down to her level.
“You may touch my ear,” he said gruffly. “Very gently.”
Maisie squealed with delight and extended a small hand, her fingers brushing the velvet tip of one tall ear. Her face lit up like Christmas morning.
“You really are fluffy,” she announced, her voice full of wonder. “And tall. Taller than Billy’s daddy, and he’s a troll.”
She had to press her lips together to keep from laughing.
“Okay, Maisie,” she managed, her voice only slightly strained. “You’ve got your lunchbox. Time to find your mom.”
“But—”
“She’ll be waiting. And Mr. Ben was just leaving.”
“Oh.” Maisie’s face fell. “Will you come back, Mr. Ben?”
Ben’s eyes found hers across the room. In their depths, she saw a flash of something that looked suspiciously like panic.
“I’m… very busy,” he said.
“But you could come to our party!” Maisie’s face lit up again. “Miss Sara is going to have a party and we’re going to havecandy and games and you should be the guest of honor! Will you come?”
He didn’t answer. He straightened slowly, looking at her once more.
“Maybe,” he said finally. “If I’m invited.”
Maisie beamed and scampered out the door, lunchbox swinging, leaving a charged silence behind.
“She’s a determined little thing,” she said into the quiet. “I’m sorry about that.”
