Page 17 of Clara Knows Best

“Do you want to meet the students?” she asked after a while.

“Yeah.”

She introduced him around and spent the second hour moodily watching him geek out over the robots. She drank the whole Gatorade, which was not easy, and had to go to the bathroom twice. She didn’t think anyone even noticed her leaving, so engrossed were they in explaining their methods to Dr. Flores.

Maybe he had only followed her here this morning because he was interested in science, technology, engineering, and math. Maybe he assumed she’d need help communicating with the nerds, being a brainless cheerleader type herself. Perhaps he’d simply had an impulse to see the inside of his old high school again. All three theories were plausible.

Butwhyhad he shown up at karaoke the night before? Not too many reasons for that one. Her mom had somehow managed to put him up to it, the result being that Clara was out two hundred bucks.

There had been a time when she would have paid a lot more than that—try her life savings—for a twenty-minute pie datewith Jesse Flores in a quiet diner. He’d carried her up the stairs, too, come to think of it.

“How’s the headache?” he asked her, while the kids carefully packed their tools and materials back into their boxes and suitcases.

“Fine. A little better.” It was a lie, but a white one.

“They were telling me the school won’t let you guys use the shop on the weekends.”

“I talked to the vice principal. No chance. No labs, either. Cafeteria or nothing.”

“You know who has a pretty good workshop?”

She stared at him for a long moment. “The Colonel.”

“Wonder why your mom didn’t invite them to meet at the house. But maybe the Colonel doesn’t want them around his tools.”

“No, they didn’t start the robots until after her surgery,” Clara realized. “Duh. We should be meeting there! And Mom would love it!”

“Well, there’s always next time.”

“Oh, that reminds me! Guys, no meeting next week.”

They looked grave. “Week after next?” one asked.

“Yes, week after next. I’ll be in touch about the location.”

As they all filed out of the building, Jesse fell in beside her. “You want to get some lunch?”

She frowned up at him. “What?”

“Lunch. Brunch? It’s eleven. Not the diner—I feel like I want a burrito. I’m starving.”

And that was how she found herself in a hole-in-the-wall burrito joint, queasily watching a handsome man eat carne asada like it was going out of style.

“Went for a run this morning,” he told her between bites.

She grimaced. “Why?”

“Heart health.”

She eyed the enormous burrito in his hands with misgiving.

“Saw a big lizard in the driveway.”

“You saw a lizard. You picked it up, didn’t you?”

“Yep. Zipped it into the pocket of my windbreaker.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “And went on your run?”

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