“Cassidy running late this morning, too?”
He grimaced.
“If I’d known, then I could’ve brought her with Suja, Rachel’s daughter.”
Suja gave an embarrassed wave, and Parker let go of my elbows as if they’d scalded him. He turned his attention to Suja. “Oh, I didn’t know we had another middle schooler in the cul-de-sac. My daughter Cassidy just started eighth grade here a couple of weeks ago.”
Suja’s expression morphed from puzzlement to epiphany. “Oh! You’re Cassidy’s dad? She’s in my language arts and band classes.”
Parker held out his hand, and Suja shuffled her saxophone case so she could shake it.
“I’m Cassidy’s dad, Parker Ford.”
“I’m Suja Panicker.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh, hey,” I said at the thought of the beautiful arrangement he’d sent. “Thank you for the flowers.”
“You’re welcome.”
I didn’t know what to say after that.
Suja looked from me to him and back to me. I didn’t care for the tilt of her head or the cogs and wheels I could almost see turning.
“Parker, let me get her signed in,” I said.
“Oh, yes! Of course.” He walked back in the direction of his car, and I got the school to buzz us in.
As we walked toward the attendance office, Suja looked up with a blush to her cheeks and whispered, “He’s hot.”
I chuckled, thinking of how good he looked when facing a sunset. “That he is. A little old for you, don’t you think?”
“Oh, well, yeah,” Suja said. “But my aunt’s single.”
Something about the idea of Parker going out with Tabitha made my hackles rise, but I had no business interfering in either Parker’s or Tabitha’s personal lives. Lord knew I didn’t need to add anything—or anyone—else to my own personal drama, either. No matter how hot Parker was. Or thoughtful. Or how intoxicating his spicy aftershave might smell.
The attendance-office clerk looked at us curiously, and I held out the note. “This is from Suja’s mom. She had me bring Suja in late because she wasn’t feeling that well this morning, but she’s feeling better now.”
Suja nodded obediently, then took the hall pass and rushed off to class while I signed her in on the clipboard.
“Miss Suja often doesn’t feel well in the mornings, huh?”
My smile faded. The office worker took a step backward from my glare. “She has an uneasy stomach.”
She had the good grace to look away.
Good. You’re not going to bully one of my kids.
As if Suja were my child.
Well, she was. It took a village, didn’t it? At the end of Oregon Trail, we’d formed our own village—and it was a good village—so the office attendant could mind her own business. “Need anything else?”
“No, no,” the woman said, not looking up from the forged note.
“Okay, then. Have a good day.”
I held my breath as I walked out of the school. Whether it was the increased security that forever reminded me how tenuous schoolchildren’s safety was or my own irrational belief that I might be called into the principal’s office, I didn’t know.
