Page 19 of The Overdue Kiss

Sometimes these big-city kids struggle to transition to small-town life.

“Okay, let’s return to basic math.” I hold up two fingers. “There are only two options I allow. One, Mr. Brooks—my personal favorite. Two, Mr. B. Anything besides that will earn you extra assignments for disrespect.” I hold the boy’s stare for a moment so he knows I mean business before adding, “But thank you for the compliment, Evan. It is a sweet ride.”

A chuckle ripples across the classroom, as most of them have seen me driving around Rocosa at some point or another. A soft sigh catches me off guard, and I notice Rianna staring at me from the front row, blinking up at me in adoration. I cough uncomfortably and move back to the Smart Board. It seems that the summer break didn’t cure her of her crush.

“Ahem. Back to the syllabus: attendance. First and foremost, I expect everyone to be seatedbeforethe second bell rings.”

A double tap sounds on the doorframe, and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes at another interruption. At this rate, we’ll never get through this syllabus. I pivot toward the door and lock eyes with the curvy woman from yesterday. My brain fizzles, melting my words into goop. My brain then goes rogue, flashing every sensory detail from our motorcycle ride together.

“Hi,” Maya says, her tiny book earrings swaying distractingly.

“Hi,” I mumble as my brain continues to malfunction.

“Hi,” the class repeats in a singsong voice behind me—almost as if they had practiced it.

A soft rose blush spreads over her cheekbones at the attention. She lifts a few fingers in a breezy wave and steps inside. “Sorry to bother you during class. I was just going to give you this and rush out.”

It’s only then that I notice the square container in her hands. I blink at it, even more confused.She brought me food?

She clears her throat and takes another nervous step closer. “I hope you don’t have any dietary restrictions or allergies. I’m not a fan of nuts in my desserts, so I didn’t add any.”

“No nuts,” I repeat like an idiot. Her blush only increases, highlighting her cheekbones and smooth skin. I bet it’s as soft as it looks.

“Yes, it’s a thank-you gift for, um, saving me last night.” She fidgets and shoves the red-topped bin at me until I take it. “I couldn’t decide what to make, cookies or pie, but then I thought, why not both?”

“Both?” The word crackles from my lips like dry air pushed through a broken vent. I pull at the collar of my polo as the temperature in the room steadily rises.

Her smile stretches across her face, so beautiful and genuine. I’m not sure how long I stand there admiring it before she speaks again.

“See for yourself. Open it.”

“Oh, right,” I whisper, struggling to open the latches on the container one-handed.

Finally, I crack the lid open, and the sweet, sugary aroma drifts up and instantly makes my mouth water. A dozen sugar cookies rest in the container, all of them iced with mathematical pi symbols in blue frosting. The corner of my mouth curls up at her sense of humor. It’s perfect.

I must have said that last part out loud, because she sighs with relief.

“Good, good. And thank you for letting me stop in for a few minutes,” she says.

When I look up, I realize her last comment is directed to the class. And not only that, we have their undivided attention. It’s so quiet that I could hear a pencil drop in the east wing. “So, you guyscanbe quiet. Who knew?”

A hand shoots up, shaking wildly for my attention. I can count on one hand in the three years I’ve taught here the times that I’ve seen Robbie willingly raise his hand.

Two more hands shoot into the air after him.

I point at him with my chin.

“What’s in the container? Are you going to share with everyone? You always say you can’t bring a snack unless you share it with the class.” He grins, knowing I’m a stickler for rules.

A murmur of approval ripples down the aisles. Ava in the front row is practically leaning out of her desk for a closer look inside the bin.

Their curious stares have my arms curling protectively around my gift. I snap the lid back on with a sense of finality and place it on the tall stack of math textbooks on my desk.

“Certain rules don’t apply to teachers.” I point to a brown-haired girl with glasses still holding up her hand for attention.Jeez, more questions?“Yes, Bree?”

“Is that woman new to school? I’ve never seen her before.”

“A new teacher?” Ava suggests from next to her.

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