Wilde for You. Dawn AtkinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
science background and enthusiasm—and the fact they had no other applicants—earned her the job. She would refresh her biology with the textbooks, get teaching tips from colleagues and figure out the chemistry somehow.
The point was that she now had her very own classroom. She had a curriculum to cover, but how she presented it was up to her. She wanted her students to love learning and to figure out how they could make a difference, too.
When she sat still for long, though, doubts assailed her. Was she up to this? Could she stick to it even when it got hard? Would she get hit with the same disappointment she’d felt about social work? Maybe she was too idealistic. She had these great dreams, but the day-to-day getting there wore her down. At least so far.
This had to be different. She felt different. She felt ready. She’d already plowed into it—coming up with her jungle theme for the three sections of biology she would teach. She looked around at what she’d set up. It looked great. Purposeful. Appealing. Exciting. Except now, thanks to Tucker Manning, Fire Code Cop, she had to machete the vines and muscle the trees around.
A surge of stubbornness rolled through her. She wasn’t giving up on her rain forest, no matter what Captain Safety said.
Nothing within six inches of the ceiling, huh? Okay, how about seven? If she used lightweight wire extended from the tree branches…She smiled. She’d need some help, though. Out the window, she spotted three kids skateboarding across the campus pathways. She’d get to know them, get their help and annoy Rule Master Manning all at the same time. Talk about multitasking.
She hurried outside to chase them down.
WHEN CRICKET AND THE three students finished the rain-forest renovation, she took them to the town’s pizza parlor for food. The garishly lit, green-dragon-themed place was loud with the sounds of arcade games, rich with the tomato-and-baked-bread smell of pizza and decently crowded for a Wednesday night.
They’d just dug into two Chicago-style pepperoni pies and Dr. Pepper in frosty mugs, when Cricket looked up and saw Tucker striding down the aisle between green plastic benches, a bottle of beer in one hand.
“Hey, Tuck,” she said, motioning him over. “Join us.”
“Cricket.” He paused at the end of the table, smiling a great, warm smile that heated her like an electric blanket. “I don’t want to intrude.” He glanced at the boys, his brows lifted in curiosity.
“Tucker Manning, meet three of Copper Corners’ finest sophomores—Jason, Jeff and John, the Triple Js, as they’re known to their friends. Guys, meet your new assistant principal.”
Tucker set his bottle on the table and solemnly shook each hand, making enough eye contact to make the guys uncomfortable.
“They helped me rearrange my rain forest. Here, sit.” She patted the space beside her for Tucker, since the three students filled the opposite bench.
Tucker took a tentative seat. She could see him measure the distance so they wouldn’t touch at shoulder or hip.
Though the boys continued eating, Tucker’s presence had definitely put a chill on the meal. The man gave off authority like body heat.
“Are your parents aware of where you boys are?” he said, making it worse. He’d used a relaxed tone, but it came out stern and he’d called them boys.
“Pretty much,” Jason said, shrugging.
“Maybe you’d better be certain.” Tucker took his phone from a back pocket and extended it.
“’Sokay,” Jason said. “We should get going, Cricket.”
Jeff wolfed the last of his slice and John grabbed a piece to go, leaving three from the second pizza on the tray. She knew full well they would have cleaned up if Tucker hadn’t sunk the mood.
“Hang on,” she said. “We can talk to Mr. Manning about starting the ecology club.”
“That’s okay,” Jason said. “Thanks, Cricket.” The other boys mumbled their thanks, then all three lumbered away.
“Way to be a buzz kill,” she joked to Tucker. Despite the distance between them, she felt his body heat and smelled his cologne, a spicy musk that teased like his smile.
Tucker must have noticed how close they were, too, because he slid off her bench and onto the opposite one.
“Was it something I said?” she asked.
“This is better,” he said firmly. “And being alone with students at night is not a good idea.”
“They slaved over my room. The least I could do was feed them.”
“You’re young and single and very pretty, Cricket.”
“Why, thank you.”
“All three of those guys were smitten.”
“Nah. It’s not me. It was the food. No teen turns down free pizza.”
“It just doesn’t look good.”
“It’s okay. It’s so noisy we couldn’t even hear ourselves flirt and forget playing footsie—the lights are too bright.”
His brows lifted in alarm, which reminded her that she’d loved startling him with extreme ideas that long-ago night.
“Kidding, Tucker. Jeez. I’m twenty-seven. That’s antique to sophomores.”
“I also advise against allowing students to call you by your first name. You need them to respect you.”
“Respect has to be earned.”
“The kids need a teacher, not a pal. If you’re too chummy, they’ll take advantage of you, blow off assignments, talk back, refuse to listen. And then you’ll end up at war.”
Cricket stared at Tucker. He sounded like some tired veteran advising a new recruit how to survive a battle. “I want to reach my students at a human level, Tucker. I’m not their prison guard.”
“Too much familiarity is a mistake. Some teachers don’t smile for the first month. Maybe that’s overboard, but they have a point. Keep your distance, set high standards and you’ll give your students what they need—subject knowledge, thinking skills and the self-discipline to get what they want in life.”
“What happened to you, Tucker?” She reached across the table to playfully shake him by the shoulders. “Did they brainwash you at administrator school? You weren’t hard-hearted in college.”
He’d been tender, not tough, that night, and passionate, not reserved, and she’d felt as if she’d belonged in his arms.
She distracted herself from that thought by grabbing Tucker’s beer for a big gulp from the bottle.
“Hey!” he said.
“Sorry. It just looked tasty.” Which was exactly what she’d said when she’d snitched some of his Corona that night.
Tucker’s face stilled. He was remembering the moment, too, she was sure.
“How about some Skee-Ball?” she said to change the subject.
“I don’t think so.”
“What’s a little Skee-Ball between consenting adults?” It was just a light flirt, but their gazes locked like heat-seeking missiles. Fire zoomed through her.
Tucker sucked in a harsh breath, twirling his wedding ring. Again.
As if catching the vibe, a Skee-Ball light began to spin and flash red and the siren blared. Emergency, emergency. Lust alert. Calling all ice water.
Cricket crossed her legs to settle herself.
When the sound ceased, Tucker spoke. “I don’t think we should consent to anything together, Cricket. There’s too much…you-know…going on here.”
“You-know?”