Page 27 of Hula Girl

“That was really great,”I tell Ford once he’s found his way to me after twenty minutes of talking with students and parents.

He shrugs. “They’ll get there. Might have been premature to have a performance, but I think they got a kick out of it.”

“More than that. You could see their confidence rise by the end. It was really amazing to see them fight their way through and finish so strong.”

“That’s how I learned—just by doing it.”

“How long have you been teaching?”

He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “Just under a year.”

“And before that? What kind of work did you do?”

“That’s real-world stuff. Are we going to go there, Hula Girl?”

Damn. What made me slip like that? He’s thrown me in more ways than one, that’s for sure. I do want to know more about him, but, at the same time, I know it’s better to keep things as they are. To just play this all for fun. As much as I like him, there’s no chance for a future.

“No, I don’t suppose so,” I tell him.

He nods. “So, you’re dressed to go out. I think I owe you a drink. Maybe even a dance?”

I smirk. “Are you trying to get me to do a hula?”

“Always. I love watching those hips move,” he says with a wicked grin.

“But I never actually did any hula moves.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen your hips do some beautiful things.” He leans toward me, his lips grazing my ear as he says, “Like when you had your legs wrapped around my neck. Fuck, you’re delicious.”

“Ford,” I whisper, my face burning with a mixture of desire and embarrassment.

“I like the way you say my name,” he says before kissing the side of my neck.

A shiver runs through me. I want him to feel the same kind of tingle, so I tell him softly, “Make me scream it later?”

He eyes me, his smile crooked and sexy. “Hell, yeah.”

“Ford, introduce me to your friend.”

Our reaction at the intrusion into our dirty talk is comical. We both take a big step away from each other and look guiltily at the woman with the gray braid who has approached us.

“Oh, sure,” Ford says. “Um, Mom, this is my friend Ava. Ava, this is my mom, Rebecca.”

I shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. The children were a delight.”

“Thank you. We’ll get there. And how do you two know each other?”

“Just casually,” I say.

“Do you live here, then, Ava?”

“No, I’m actually on vacation.” This admission seems to trigger something in Ford’s mother. Her mouth tightens and her eyes go hard.

“Okay, Mom,” Ford says, “we actually have to get going.”

“But—”

He turns to her so that I can’t see either of their expressions. But I can hear him say, “I’ve got it covered. You have nothing to worry about.”

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