Heath doesn’t stand idly by to say goodbye to us, but Roadrunner’s away like he’s got places to be and shit to do.
Meanwhile, I hear the deep laughter of Micah building in his chest before I steer my focus back to him, staring at Heath’s retreating form. “A house, Mr. Wolfe?”
“And a car.”
“Andwhois going to drive him around in this car?”
“They have remote control ones. Get with the times.”
“Oh, I can see the look on my neighbors now when I’m walking my rabbit down the street with a remote-controlled car.”
Micah shakes his head before his attention descends on me. Those handsome features clearly amused at the predicament he put me in. “Yeah, but, man, would you still be a good fuck, Miss Vesper.” He takes a step closer. “Or should I say BCR?”
Then he spins on his heels and ambles toward the kids, but not before stealing one more glance at me and bestowing me a wink.
I’m screwed.
7
SIENNA
I wring fingers together,waiting for Principal Simpson to sit down after closing the door to her office at this surprise meeting she called in for me today.
Her heels click against the tiles as she approaches a small table along the wall with a coffee machine and a few mugs.
“Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thank you,” I deadpan, running my sweaty palms along my dress slacks. “I’ve already had too much today.”
“That seems to be my problem, as well,” she imparts simply. “The women are always bringin’ in coffee cakes and cookies. Goes well with a good cup of joe, and it never seems to stop.”
“Better than smoking.”
Principal Simpson chuckles as she takes her time stirring and adds another sugar packet. “That’s true. The mothers are also always trying to kiss up for somethin’ or another. Then there are the PTA moms…”
“There’s a difference?”
“Oh, yes. The PTA moms are always trying to do more fundraisers and meetings like I’m going to say no. However, I never do turn down their pies.”
I’m out of pleasantries and small talk, ready for Principal Simpson to spit out what I’m here for, even though I have a feeling it has something to do with what I’ve been trying to avoid. But I’m trying everything within me not to have a mild panic attack in this office.
It has to be something else.
“How is everything going, Miss Vesper?” she finally asks me. “Things in your classroom going okay?”
“Great,” I immediately reply. “The kids are wonderful.”
“Mrs. Whitman may have said something different. However, she should’ve retired years ago.”
I bob my head, understanding that teaching a bunch of first graders can be challenging, but I’m up for it at any time.
Principal Simpson finally moves to take her seat behind her desk and pushes her thin glasses up her nose. “Did you need anything for your classroom?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“How are the children?”
Is this just a check-in?
