My stomach’s pitchy. I’m dried out and flushed at the same time.
As nice as it is to hear Ron’s reassurance, this initiative, my baby for the last several months, might not go forward. And even if it does, it won’t involve me anymore.
My head swims. I’m vaguely aware of Tracy’s rallying cry, about how sorry she is that it’s come to this, but that we’re all young in our careers and have much good to do and the kids will be fine. There are resources still available, and we’ll spend the next two months placing them in other programs.
The lunch break must be over because there’s movement at the front entrance.
“Oh, one kid must be early,” Willa says, a swift look of panic crossing her face.
We have to pull it together for these kids. I still have four little ones to work with and a bunch of paperwork to do. No time for a pity party. If my head would quit pounding and my stomach stop churning…
I jump up, but my hips protest the sudden movement. Cringing, I try to stretch as I move to the door of Tracy’s office. Early or not, someone’s got to greet them.
“I’ll get them checked in.” I hurry out the door and into the front reception area. The wood-paneled walls are lined with public service announcements about the services we offer here. A dusty fiddle leaf plant in the corner is the extent of our decor.
But the person at the door is not a kid with his mom or dad.
It’s Taysom Reed.
My teenage crush.
Chapter 4
Charlotte
TaysomReedishere—ina crisp, medium-blue blazer, fitted white shirt, and khaki pants that mold to his thighs like they have opinions about leg day.
His bright, blue eyes, dark hair, and large, toned, all grown-up self is justright here.
I squeeze my arms to my sides, and my mind zips to the past and the future. Did I miss something? Did he have a kid and is said kid getting treatment here at the Early Childhood Center? How did I miss he hada kid? I don’t try to actively seek out the tea on Taysom, but it’s hard to avoid. He is the city’s star.
And he’s my brother’s best friend. Kyle is notorious for not keeping me in the loop about…well, most things.
Also, I really hate whoever Taysom’s baby mama is.
“Well, Taysom Reed…” I will my voice to not sound so syrupy, so flirty, but I’m not doing an excellent job of controlling myself. I’m blaming it on dehydration—and
that I just lost my job.
Well, I will lose my job in two months.
I didn’t know Willa followed me, but she’s now by my side. She tosses me a look because I never use that voice. I sound like an imposter of myself.
I clear my throat. “How are things?” My arms, at all costs, must stay pasted to my sides. This man cannot see the veritable fountain leaking under there. I promise I wear anti-perspirant!
Taysom’s smile—all bright and sunny and warm—lights my insides on fire. Which is inconvenient and stupid and dumb.
Behind him, a guy in a suit and a woman holding bags of equipment on both shoulders nonchalantly enter the room.
What is happening here?
“Charlotte Mercer.” His gaze takes me in. “How are you?” His hands fidget before reaching out to give me a side hug. The muscles in his forearms ripple as he draws me near. I breathe in his scent, and the warm muskiness is exactly how I remember it.
Still, the hug feels awkward—there’s a lot of backslapping happening—and we pull apart. I really hope he doesn’t notice the underarm stains that still seem to be growing. His arm was close, so it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.
I rotate to the front desk. We haven’t had the budget for a student receptionist this semester, so it’s all hands on deck when checking clients in. My eyes search out anything to focus on that’s not him. “I’m doing great!”
He takes a half-step back, as if he senses my shock. “Kyle mentioned you work at this center, which gave me the idea to come. Glad I came on a day you were working.”
