When Dolores’ alarm went off the next morning, she felt like she’d only been asleep for a couple of hours. She groaned and swatted at her phone until it stopped screaming. And then she rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. She blinked several times. Where the hell am I? And then she remembered. Yesterday. Chasing Olsen all the way up the highway. The bar. Those kisses. His arms around her. Then the bikers. It already had the fuzziness of a surreal dream.

But it was all real. And she was currently 150 miles north of Hope Valley and due to start work in – uh, three hours’ time. She jumped out of bed, pulled on her pants and a shirt, and headed to the bathroom to wash her face and try to get her hair under some kind of control. After she ran her fingers through her unruly curls a few times, she looked a little less like she’d been caught in a hurricane. Although, her face was a different story. Her eyes were a little bloodshot, and purple shadows bloomed beneath them. She looks like hell, and it was going to be a long day. But it was all worth it. Olsen was going to come back to Hope Valley, and she was going to teach him to read. That was, if he hadn’t run off again in the middle of the night. A little flutter of adrenaline quickened her pulse as she rinsed her mouth with water, grabbed a stick of chewing gum out of her purse, and hurtled out of the room.

And then she drew a sharp breath in. Olsen was standing right in front of her. All six foot six of him. And his fist was raised, inches from her face. The expression on his face was incredible.

“I was just coming to wake you,” he said sheepishly, letting his arm fall to his side.

“Really? I thought you were coming to give me a black eye.” They both burst out laughing. Even at that time in the morning, he looked great. Not sluggish and half asleep like she was, but bursting with animal vitality.

“Are you ready to leave? I figured we could grab breakfast on the way if we make good time.”

“Sounds good to me,” she replied, far too tired to be hungry. They got into their separate cars and Dolores began to follow Olsen along the highway as they headed south.

The road was empty, and Olsen drove fast, pushing eighty the entire way. Dolores woke up fully as soon as they hit the highway, and she began to enjoy the drive, staying 500 feet behind Olsen’s truck, daydreaming about him, about the way his lips had felt on hers, about the incredible sensation of being taken in his arms last night.

When they were three quarters of the way back to Hope Valley, Olsen’s brake lights lit up and his right indicator went on. Dolores hit the brake too and followed him off the highway into the parking lot of a diner. By now, her stomach was rumbling, and when Olsen ordered double egg muffins with extra bacon, she got the same. Most of the tables were taken, so they opted to sit on the low wall beside their cars. The muffins were delicious, and the coffee was good and hot, and for a few minutes they ate in silence, quietly enjoying each other’s company. Whenever he wasn’t looking in her direction, she cast sly glances at him, drinking in the muscularity of his body, the easy, confident way he carried himself.

“Dolores,” Olsen said suddenly, breaking through the silence.

“Yes?” As she met his eyes, she was startled by something very serious in his expression.

“I’m sorry about last night. I mean, for kissing you. I didn’t mean to. It just happened in the heat of the moment.”

A chill ran down her spine, and the bite of muffin she’d just taken turned to cardboard in her mouth. Didn’t mean to? She gulped her food down with an effort.

“I was just real happy that you wanted to help me. I don’t mind saying that I was in a bad way in that bar yesterday. And you messaged me like a guardian angel or something, and I think I got a little emotional.”

A flash of heat rose up from Dolores’s chest, making perspiration break out on her forehead. She picked up her coffee and hid her face in it so Olsen wouldn’t see her reaction. Pretending to take a long sip, she slowly counted to five. Of course he didn’t like her like that. Of course he hadn’t meant to kiss her. She was stupid to have thought he had. She cleared her throat.

“Same here. I think we both got a little overexcited,” she said.

Olsen stared at her worriedly. “You still want to be my teacher? I mean, I understand if that was just in the heat of the moment too.”

Dolores forced her lips to stretch over her teeth in an approximation of a smile. “Are you kidding? Of course I want to be your teacher! I can’t wait for us to get started.”

His fingers knotted on his lap. “Uh, I was wondering. Maybe we could have our first lesson tomorrow. I mean, if you’re not too busy? Or too tired after school?”

She bit down on the tip of her tongue. “Sure!” she said as brightly as she was able to. “I’ll put some lesson plans together tonight. And we’ll have a lot of fun. You’ll be reading before you know it.”

“Thanks, Dolores. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“Stop! You’ve thanked me enough already.” She forced out a laugh which came out sounding more like a dry cough.

* * *

The following afternoon, Dolores arrived home from school, made some coffee, and thought about canceling the lesson. The thought of seeing Olsen again made her stomach churn. She felt embarrassed to like him so much, when their kisses had meant nothing to him at all. Just be happy that he agreed for you to teach him to read, she told herself for at least the tenth time that day, as she laid out the materials for the lesson on the kitchen table. That was all you wanted when you followed him to the bar on Sunday. But her heart was hurting. And then he kissed you, another little voice said. Right before telling you that he didn’t really mean it. A flash of heat warmed her cheeks – part shame, part anger.

Her doorbell rang.

“I’m going to be the best damn teacher I can be,” she muttered, a mantra she’d repeated to herself many times, in many difficult situations.

“I’m sure you will be, Dolores,” Olsen said as she opened the door to him. Her breath caught in her throat, and she shook her head.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Sorry, bear hearing. There’s not too much that I don’t hear, I’m afraid.” He flashed her a wry smile.

“It’s just something I used to say a while back. I guess it’s turned into a lucky charm or something.”

“Well I sure can’t promise that I’ll be your best pupil.” As Olsen stepped through her front door, he filled her hallway, and she suddenly felt awkward at having him there, in her personal space. She showed him through to the kitchen, cringing at the tightness in her voice. Calm down. For the next two hours, you’re the teacher, and he’s the pupil, and nothing else that might have happened between you matters at all.

At first he was uncomfortable, shoulders hunched and tight. But she tried some of the techniques she’d used with adults, to help him realize that he recognized some words already. Like a lot of adult learners, he knew more than he thought he did. Over the years he’d learned methods of coping, of concealing his illiteracy from others, and there were plenty of individual words he could recognize, even if he was unable to write them down. Still, it wasn’t easy going. She sensed his frustration, saw it burning in those blue eyes, every time he made a mistake.

“You’re doing good, Olsen. Really good,” she said, as they reached the end of the session. Something passed across his face, something wild, like an animal backed into a corner. His huge fist clenched, and pounded into his thigh.

“I’m not. A man shouldn’t be learning like a five-year old.”

She swallowed hard. “So you may have the reading age of the five-year-old today. But in a week’s time it’ll be different. You’ll make fast progress, I can tell.” He made a sound of disgust and pounded his fist again.

Before she could stop herself, she leaned across the table and grabbed that fist in both her hands and looked him straight in the eye. “What happened when you were young, Olsen? What stopped you from learning to read?”

For a second, he looked at her as if he was about to say something. But then he tore his hand away. “Nothing. Nothing happened.”

She pressed her lips together, counted to ten. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Let’s leave it for today. I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow?”

Olsen heaved himself to his feet. Then he reached into his back pocket, pulled out a wad of bills and deposited them on the table. She frowned.

“What’s this?”

“Is that enough?”

Her frown deepened. “Olsen, we didn’t agree to this. I wasn’t planning on charging you for lessons. I just wanted to return your kindness.”

“You’ve given up your time to help me, and I’m grateful. And there’s no way you’re working for free.” He nodded at the money. “I expect to pay the going rate. Except, since I can’t read, I can’t figure out how much that is. I’ll be obliged if you find out and let me know. I’ll see you tomorrow, Dolores.”

When he’d gone, Dolores sat at the kitchen table and stared at the pile of money. She didn’t even count it. She hadn’t wanted to get paid. She’d wanted to help him because he’d helped her and because she cared about him, like all the people she’d taught in her life. But after everything he’d said before, it was no more than a business arrangement for him. With a sigh, she gathered up the money, and dumped it in one of the kitchen drawers.