Nice nails,” the fourth-grade teacher’s assistant mentioned in passing.

“Thanks.” Amy poured herself a cup of coffee in the teacher’s lounge during her midmorning break.

“And are those highlights?”

“They are.”

“Great color. It gives you a whole new look. And I just love that lacy undershirt. Are you dressing up for any reason?”

Pyro had made her beautiful. She’d gotten married this weekend. His relatives had forced a hundred camisoles in different shades on her.

Well, she hoped her new look would impress her family as much as the teachers.

She eased into her chair and smelled the forbidden but very necessary liquid. “Just time for a ‘me’ day.”

“It’s very nice.”

She sipped from the borrowed mug. Normally she brought something herbal and decaffeinated but she’d forgotten her full travel mug on the counter this morning. After first period, her body had demanded caffeine.

Now, as the coffee passed her lips and her brain obediently kicked into super-wired mode, she prayed for a miracle.

She’d stayed up way, way, way too late last night laboring over the How Do Colors Feel? poem. Not only did her activities still feel dislocated and teacher-y, they didn’t even engage her. She scrubbed her face and stared at the well-erased lesson planner, then recycled the page and got out a fresh sheet.

That afternoon, she and Corinne went over the clean, neatly written lesson plan together. Corinne tapped her lips. “It just doesn’t feel…”

“Like A work?” she asked with a cringe.

“Like you.” Corinne set aside her own well-stained coffee mug and stretched.

She was a bouncy fifth-grade teacher with a barrettes obsession; she always had some adorable animal or chemistry molecule in her hair, one for every day of the academic year.

Amy was considering a decorated sock collection.

“Why do you think you’re struggling?” Corinne asked. “Is it the subject? The material? Or…” Her critical gaze roved over the same highlights, nails, and camisole the others had complimented. “Are you not fully devoting yourself to this assignment?”

All of the above.

Amy erased the dot of an “i” on her page and re-marked it. “I’m fully dedicated to creating a lesson students will engage with and administrators will love.”

“But?”

It wasn’t the subject matter or the material.

Ever since Corinne said she couldn’t use her original plan because it would make administrators uncomfortable, Amy had pushed every new idea past the same inner censor and found them to be uncomfortable-making too. She fixated on issues that caused students to think — and administrators to squirm.

What if students accidentally disclosed things administrators didn’t want to hear? What if someone got embarrassed? Nothing about her plan was safe. Nothing about her teaching style was safe. She wasn’t safe.

How strange. She’d lived her whole life doing the smart, reasonable, safe thing and since coming into contact with Pyro she’d realized that the one area in her life where she excelled, where she’d devoted her energy and passion, was full of risk.

Teaching was dangerous. Her style of teaching especially.

“Teachers need to be able to teach any subject and any material engagingly,” Corinne prodded gently. “Not only their favorite topics.”

“I know.” Amy hung her head.

Hopefully, her conversation tonight with her parents wouldn’t come to the same unsatisfying conclusion.

“Well, you still have three days. Let’s meet again.”

Amy lifted her head. “Three days?”

“You didn’t hear? Administrators overheard me telling another teacher about your exceptional work and they asked if we should have you do a demonstration lesson in front of parents on Thursday’s Parent Night.”

All the oxygen sucked out of the room. Her voice squeaked. “Me?”

“It’s a great opportunity to showcase yourself. Be memorable, funny, and show off that natural talent you have with engaging a class.”

“Corinne…” she moaned. “Thursday? Thursday?”

Her mentor smiled sympathetically and patted her hands. “Work hard.”

She dragged herself out of the meeting, through the last class of the day, and began packing a larger-than-usual book bag for her journey across town to her parents’ house.

This public teaching demonstration was the opportunity she’d waited for all year. Subbing at the school as an assistant was great for experience, but more importantly, it put her in contact with the employers who could take her career to the next level.

A demonstration lesson in front of them and the parents was the opportunity she needed.

Her polished lesson had to shine.

Except she had no polished lesson. Tonight was shot because she’d promised Pyro she’d broach the subject of their marriage with her parents. He had a complex about her not introducing him. She absolutely couldn’t back out now.

Which left tomorrow to finalize her lesson. Wednesday she’d want to do a practice run with props. Maybe even try out parts of the lesson on her unsuspecting reading class to gauge on how interesting they found the activities. Then she’d recalibrate her lesson for the demonstration.

Her belly squeezed.

Regrets. She knew she’d have regrets.

She should’ve gotten married after school was out. But by then the Empress would have forced Pyro into marriage.

Dragons! They were so inconvenient.

Amber walked into her classroom.

Amy was swinging her overly heavy book bag onto her shoulder when she suddenly noticed the dragon shifter female. She checked her movement. The bag bossed her around a bit, and she finally regained her footing.

“Visitors need to check in with the main office,” she said. “This is a closed campus.”

“Okay.” The diminutive woman made no move to rectify her lack of a guest pass. She was again wearing Mary Janes, a conservative plaid skirt, a burgundy blouse and dark tights.

“Can I help you?”

“No. I’ve come to help you. There was a misunderstanding.”

Amy let the bag thump on the floor and indicated for Amber to take one of the student desks. They would have a few minutes before security or janitorial staff asked questions.

Amber folded her hands in her lap and regarded Amy with serious eyes. “Yesterday, Pyro was not in jail.”

Oh. That was a relief and kind of nice for her to come down to say. Amy had gotten his good morning texts but had been too afraid to respond with her questions.

“What happened?” she asked. “Where was he?”

“He was speaking with law enforcement about his outstanding warrant.”

Outstanding warrant? That was less reassuring. “For what?”

“Disturbing the peace and aiding a terrorist.”

Oh. Wow.

Amy rubbed her forehead. “He dropped me off at a bathhouse. He said he was visiting friends.”

“The bathhouse is owned by the family of the man Pyro rescued. Their son drove his bus into a mosque. The police branded the activity terrorism, and Pyro did not correct their understanding of his involvement.”

“So he saved a man’s life?” That made him a hero. “Why wouldn’t he correct that misunderstanding?”

Amber shrugged. “He used to find jail time restful.”

“People jail dragon shifters?”

“We obey all local laws. It is part of our treaty.”

The treaty again. Okay. Whatever. “Kyan said the situation was my fault.”

“Because Pyro is taking responsibility. He did not care who misunderstood him. Now he is making an effort to clear up the misunderstandings because of you.”

Wow. That was…

Wait a minute. “How many ‘misunderstandings’ are we talking about?”

“I do not know the exact number.”

“Ballpark is fine.”

“Ballpark?”

“Rough estimate.”

“Thirty-five.”

“He has outstanding warrants in thirty-five countries?” she gasped.

“Some are in the same country but in different jurisdictions,” Amber replied stoically. “That is why I do not know the exact number.”

Oh god, she’d married an outlaw. The lyrics from Renegade played in her head. Pyro’s jig was up, news was out, they’d finally found him…

Her parents must never know.

Amber rose and started for the door. “I wanted to tell you before he visited your family tonight.”

“What?! No!” She bolted to her feet. “He can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He promised.”

Amber paused in the doorway and tilted her head. Clearly, a promise meant nothing.

“He can’t just show up.”

“Why not?”

“Because when he meets my parents, he needs to dress well. But not too well. And he needs to be on time, and polite, and bring a bottle of wine. And that’s just for starters! And they have to know he’s coming.”

“Tell your parents he’s coming.”

“Don’t let him do this. Please.”

Amber lifted her brows as if to say that no one let Pyro do anything. But instead, she only said, “It is a very significant thing in dragon society to meet a family. Do not deny Pyro this meeting. Did you know his own family rejected him?”

“I read something like that.” Amy crossed the classroom. “And that’s why I have to prepare my parents. So they don’t do the same! He can’t come tonight. He just can’t. Tell him.”

“I will tell him.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“But I do not think my message will do any good. His first wife did not introduce him to her parents, and it destroyed their marriage.” Amber turned and strolled down the hall.

Wait. Did she just say…?

Amy called after the disappearing dragon shifter. “First wife?”