“You ready for this?” I asked.
“Jolly’s ready. I’m just the guy holding the leash.”
William looked up from Jolly’s neck. “Mr. Ben, are you going to show everyone the commands? The ones where Jolly sits and stays and does the thing where he finds stuff?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Can I help?”
Ben crouched down to William’s level. “Tell you what. I might need a volunteer during the demo. Think you can handle that?”
William’s face went incandescent. He looked at me, then back at Ben, then at Jolly, as if he needed all three of us to confirm that this was actually happening.
“Yes. I can definitely handle that.”
“Good. Now head on to your class. I’ll see you in there.”
William gave Jolly one more squeeze, jumped to his feet, and took off toward the school entrance. Halfway across the lot, he turned and ran backward for three steps, still looking at Jolly, before spinning around and disappearing through the doors.
Ben straightened. “He’s a good kid.”
“He is.” I grinned. “Except for the fact that he just totally forgot his mother even existed.”
We stood there for another second, the parking lot filling around us, and I wanted to say something about last night, about the kiss, about the way I hadn’t stopped thinking about it since I’d walked back across the yard. But the moment was too public and too bright, and some things needed walls around them before they could be spoken aloud.
Ben seemed to understand that. He shouldered the duffel, gave me a nod that carried more than a nod should have been able to carry, and headed for the gym entrance with Jolly at his side.
I watched him go. Then I took a breath and followed.
The gym was already controlled chaos by the time I got inside. Trish was near the door with a clipboard, directing parents to the bleachers and teachers to their assigned sections. She spotted me immediately.
“There she is. The woman who saved the children of Summit Falls from a lifetime of emotional scarring.” She pulled me into a one-armed hug without breaking stride from her clipboard duties. “Mrs. Patterson actually cried when I called her. Real tears. I think she was three glasses of wine into planning a movie in the gym when I told her.”
“It was Ben’s idea, not mine.”
“And we’ll get toBenin a moment.” She steered me toward the far side of the gym, where folding chairs were stacked against the wall. “First, help me set up the parent section. Then you’re going to explain to me why you failed to mention that your neighbor looks like that.”
“Looks like what?”
“Kayla. The man is six-foot-hunky and carried a duffel bag like it was a clutch purse. Don’t play dumb.”
“I’m not playing anything. He’s my neighbor. He offered to help.”
“Mm-hm.” Trish handed me a stack of chairs and started unfolding her own row. “And last night? When you texted me that he’d volunteered? What were you doing when this generous offer occurred?”
“We were talking. At the fence.”
“At the fence. Naturally. Very pastoral.” She set down a chair with a decisive snap. “And how does one’s neighbor come to volunteer for a school assembly at seven forty-five on a weeknight? Were you just standing at the fence at that hour, chatting about community service?”
“We were talking about other things. The assembly came up. He offered.”
“Other things.” She set down another chair and turned toface me. Her expression was friendly and knowing and impossible to hide from. “Kayla. Honey. I have known you for six months. In that entire time, you have shown zero interest in any human male. You have deflected every attempt I have made to set you up. You told me, and I quote, that you were ‘enjoying the quiet.’ And now you’re standing in a school gym with a flush on your neck because a man you claim is just your neighbor looked at you in a parking lot.”
I put my hand on my neck. It was warm.
“I don’t have a flush.”
“You absolutely have a flush.” She grinned and went back to the chairs. “I’m thrilled. For the record. Whatever this is or isn’t, I’m thrilled.”
