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Bloodstained Beauty by Fields, Ella (7)

 

“Now, remember, you don’t catch flies with …”

“Cookie jars!” the kids hollered, then filed out the door.

Laughing, I put the book we’d been dissecting that week back on the stand and watched them go, tucking in chairs and collecting sweaters once the door had shut.

I was bent over, picking up a rogue pencil, when a sharp knock had me straightening so fast, I felt something pop in my back. “God, I need to start working out.”

Framed in the small oblong window of the door was a black covered shoulder and arm, and a tan profile. My heart rate stalled momentarily.

Lou Lou’s dad walked in as soon as the door opened, and he instructed her to wait in the hall. I smiled at her, hoping it would ease the worry marring her tiny brows, then shut the door.

“Mr. Verrone, how can I—”

“It’s Dr. Verrone. And there seems to be a problem with Lou’s behavior card.”

I blinked, then remembered yesterday. The incident with Jerimiah. I folded my hands together, straightened my shoulders, and calmly explained what’d happened.

“The child is a nuisance,” he said.

For a moment, I thought he was referring to his daughter, then I realized that wasn’t so. “Well …” I hemmed.

“No false pretenses. You know I’m right. I’ve watched him skip in and out of this school every morning and afternoon since Lou Lou told me about her first run-in with him. I can peg them when I see them.”

A bit shocked, a small, incredulous laugh slipped free. “He’s not so bad.” He could be trouble, yes, but even then, he was a beautiful boy. “He’s just in need of direction, not harsh discipline.”

“I disagree.”

My brows nearly met my hairline.

He waved a hand dismissively, then leaned against my desk with a sigh. “But I suppose that’s too much to ask from schools nowadays.”

“Nowadays?” I questioned before I could think better of it.

He nodded, and I realized then that I still didn’t know his name. I was sure I’d seen it in records and could look it up, but I thought it’d be better to ask. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you.” Blue eyes collided with mine, making something skitter down my spine before locking into place. Something was definitely wrong with my back. “It’s Thomas.”

Huh. “Well, I’ll be sure to keep a close eye on things with Jerimiah, as always, Thomas.”

He wasn’t looking at me anymore, well, not exactly. His gaze had dropped to my cream-colored ballet flats that had tiny satin bows on the toes. “How old are you?”

I coughed. “I’m sorry, what?”

His lip quirked, those glowing eyes glinting as they traveled over my legs and stopped at my chest. “You heard me.” Those eyes lifted, crystal blue grabbing mine and refusing to let them look elsewhere. And I really needed to look elsewhere. He hummed. “You’re just shocked, but that’s okay. I’ll wait.”

A twitch pinched my stomach as he held my eyes prisoner. “Uh …” I laughed, my head shaking as I finally looked away and pretended to get lost in some pencils in a jar at the craft station. “I don’t know if that’s exactly, um, appropriate?”

A question? Really? I couldn’t even muster the steel to end a sentence properly.

Dark and vibrating, the timbre of his voice reached my ears as his gaze singed my back. “Do I make you nervous?”

I scoffed, turning and crossing my arms over my chest. “This is kind of”—I threw my arms out, my finger gesturing between us—“weird. Yeah, let’s start again. You’re Thomas, Lou Lou’s dad, and …”

“And you’re Jemima, Little Dove, her first-grade teacher.”

Blinking again, I asked, “How do you know that?”

A shoulder tilted, barely perceptible, but I saw it. “You must’ve mentioned it around Lou Lou.”

“Right.”

The clock behind his head ticked.

Once, twice, three, then four times.

“Are you going to tell me?”

I frowned. This had to be the most awkward encounter I’d ever experienced in my life. “My age?” I sucked my lip into my mouth, pondering the odd request. “Is it because of the shoes?”

I met his gaze as his lips twitched. “A little, yes. But I’m mostly just curious.”

“Why?”

Another almost smirk. “Why indeed.”

“Fine. I’m twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three,” I repeated slowly and rocked back on my heels.

When I glanced over at the door, I saw Lou Lou had her head tilted up to the window, brown ringlets sprinkling over her shoulder. Painting on a smile, I held up a finger, indicating we’d only be a minute, then looked back at Thomas. “So am I not going to be treated to the same courtesy?”

His eyes widened, then he chuckled, a sound so rough and abrasive it was clear he didn’t do it very often. His thumb glided over his bottom lip. “That wouldn’t exactly be appropriate, now would it, Miss Clayton?” A heavy pause filled the room as he stood and then adjusted his jacket, eyes boring into mine. “Until next time, Little Dove.”

Outside, he took Lou Lou’s hand, and she shot me a small wave as they disappeared down the hall.

What in the name of strange?

 

 

Miles walked in the door just after seven.

I watched from my perch on the couch where I was painting my toenails a lime green as he scarfed down the steak and vegetables I’d prepared earlier.

“Not even going to sit down?”

“Can’t talk,” he mumbled around a mouthful. “Too hungry.”

I snorted, my smile softening as I took in his chaotic appearance. His shirt was sweat stained and his hair damp with the day’s work, and I had no doubt that dirt sat beneath his fingernails.

“So something weird happened today.” I capped the polish and wiggled my toes.

“Yeah?” He lifted his plate, licking, actually licking, the gravy from it.

I laughed, spinning the ring on my finger absentmindedly. “Could you quit and listen to me?”

“Listening,” he said, moving to rinse the plate.

I waited until he’d tucked it into the dishwasher and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before saying, “I met this dad. One of my kids, Lou Lou …”

Miles smirked and leaned against the doorway to the living room. “I love it when you call them your kids.”

“They spend a lot of time with me, so they’re not just any kids,” I defended.

He waved a hand. “I know, and I love you.” Dark eyes glued themselves to mine as he waited for those words to penetrate and hit their mark. They did, each and every time.

“Love you too.” I sighed, straightening my legs, my toes scrunching in protest over the cold tiles. We’d yet to buy some rugs, as well as many other items, for the house. “Anyway, he came in to speak to me about Lou Lou’s behavior card, which is understandable seeing as she’s pretty much perfect.”

“No one’s perfect.”

“Wait until you meet this girl,” I said, unable to stop from smiling as I conjured Lou Lou’s sweet face to the forefront of my mind. “I’m giving her work from the second grade most weeks.”

Miles shifted, eyes shooting to the ground. “So her dad?”

“Right, yeah.” I stood, stretching my arms above my head as I yawned. “Funny guy, in a way that’s not really funny at all.”

Miles’s brows furrowed. “How so?”

“He’s just … hard to describe, but it was weird.”

Miles waited, but I realized I didn’t have much more to tell him, a way to relay all the details in their entirety, so I just shrugged. “Guess it was one of those times when you had to be there. I’ll do him no justice trying to describe it.”

“No justice?” Miles asked with clear humor as he followed me down the hall to our bedroom. “What, is he some kind of comedian?”

“Ha, no.” I put my nail polish away in the en suite bathroom, walking right into Miles’s chest on the way out. “Ugh, you’ll break my nose one of these days. You need more cheeseburgers.”

Arms captured me, hands smoothing up my back and trailing around to my chin to tilt it up. His eyes narrowed as he said, “I don’t know if I like you talking about some kid’s dad for longer than two minutes.”

“Two minutes?” I asked, a little breathless as his thumbs moved to my mouth, teasing the skin under my bottom lip.

“Yeah. Way I see it, anything longer than two minutes, and you’re curious.”

I leaned into him, nipping at his thumb. “Jealous, are we?”

“Hell fucking yes, I am,” he groaned out, dropping his lips to mine.

“You have nothing to worry about,” I said between kisses. “He’s not you, so he’s not my type.”

“Prove it.”

I pushed him back, which only served in pushing me back. Whatever worked. “You stink. Come find me after you’ve showered.”

I ran out of the bedroom before he could catch me, and the sound of the shower turning on a few beats later had me smiling as I opened the fridge.

I’d just taken a sip of bottled water when I heard Miles’s phone ringing from the bedroom. I ignored it until I heard it start again, then I walked back to the bedroom to grab it in case it was a client. Winter had been slow to leave, so Miles said he was taking on any work he could get now that things had thawed and started growing again.

The ringing started again, but I couldn’t see where he’d put his phone. I followed the sound to his nightstand and opened the drawer. There it was, with unknown caller flashing across the screen. I stared at it a second, then decided to answer it.

“Hello, Miles’s phone?” Yeah, I couldn’t think of anything better to say.

A loud silence infiltrated my ears and made my brows lower, then whoever it was on the other end hung up.

Still frowning at the screen, I tossed it back into the drawer right as a set of headlights flashed through the sheer curtains of our bedroom window, which faced the street.

I walked over, shifting them just in time to see a black car drive out of view.

It wasn’t until Miles had thoroughly reminded me why he was the only type I had, then passed out beside me, that I realized the phone I’d answered earlier …

It had a different screen saver and case.