Page 23 of Before We Fell

Hard to stay professional when the man was to-die-for sexy. Ripped muscles. Lean waist. Jeans that had curved over his ass in a delectable way. Plus the fact he was good with his hands.

If only he didn’t look like he was two seconds away from ripping the rest of his house apart with his bare hands, the man would be so easy to fall for.

Don’t even think about it.

“Knock it off,” I muttered, and beeped the locks on my Honda. As soon as I climbed in and was settled, I cranked up the music to the local country radio station and blared the music to drown out any thoughts I had of Riley’s uncle.

Number one rule of being a teacher? Never fall for a student’s parent. Ever.

But he’s not a parent.

I kicked that thought out of my mind too and sang along with the lyrics all the way to the market, refusing to consider for another single second anything about Noah or how thrilled he might look when he watched Riley read.

“Hey, stranger,” my friend, Tinley, called out as the screen door behind me slammed shut. Her head peeked out from behind a neatly arranged pile of produce, green eyes glimmering. “Haven’t seen you here in awhile.”

“I was here last week. And the week before.”

“Well, yeah, but don’t you know I miss you?” she teased and hurried toward me, giving me a quick hug. “How’s school? I never see you this time of year.”

That was true. Tinley and I had been friends for a few years, meeting at her market shortly after I moved to town. I was drawn to not only her sweet personality, her voice that always sounded more like a song, but to the way she rehabbed forgotten or abused junk furniture, turning them into beautiful art. The woman could make something beautiful out of the ugliest pieces. I admired how she could see the potential, not the current state.

She was just as hopeful about people as well. Which was one of the reasons why we got along so well. I saw the same thing when I looked at my students. She did the same with adults.

“It’s good. I have an incredibly sweet class this year.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and stepped back. “You say that every year.”

“Well ask me again in May and it might change.”

Tinley snickered and ran a hand through her blonde locks. “Sure it won’t. So what do you need today?”

I answered the same way I did every time since the first time I’d stopped into her flea market on a whim. “Oh, just browsing.”

“Browse away as long as you promise you’ll never move. You make up half my income.”

It was an exaggeration, but maybe not too far off. I was in here all the time. Not only because she was my friend and when she was slow we could get caught up, but because she made the most fantastic items. Especially around the holidays.

“That means drinks can be on you Saturday night,” I shot back. “The Tavern?”

“You got it.” The door opened and another customer stepped in, so she waved me off and sauntered toward the cash registers. “Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

I was in frequently enough I could be blindfolded and still gather all my groceries. I loaded them up in my reusable shopping bags I always kept in my car before strolling through the other side of the store where she kept her furniture, home decor, and secondhand and handmade clothing. I tossed a knee-length skirt into my bag and my eye caught on a piece of new furniture.

Too large to be a nightstand. Too small to go behind my sofa, but the bright, beach teal color made me smile and I didn’t think too long before I tugged off the price tag and carried it with me to the register. I’d find some place for it.

I piled my items on the conveyer belt, bagging my own groceries so Tinley didn’t have to do it.

She grinned and held up the price tag to the new table I was buying. “You know, I almost texted you a photo of this when I finished it. I knew you’d want it.”

She knew me too well. “It’s beautiful. Like everything else you make.”

“You’re too kind.” She finished ringing up my groceries as I chatted about the school year, mentioning Riley which earned me a curious look from her, but no comments. Tinley and I were both twenty-six, and she’d grown up in Carlton her whole life, but she was young enough where she wouldn’t have known Amanda or Noah. I paid her and she handed me my receipt. “Eight o’clock Saturday?”

I tucked it into one of my bags. “I’ll meet you there. I’ll come back for the table after I load these groceries.”

I did just that and re-entered the store where Tinley had moved the table to the front doors. “Just helping you out,” she called and waved goodbye. Another customer was moving to the checkout lane so I didn’t chat further. Grunting as I lifted the heavy table, I maneuvered the front seats in my small sedan, sweat dripping down my back while I tried to get it to fit in my backseat.

By the time I was ready to pull out of the parking lot, I was breathless and my arms trembled from the struggle.

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