Page 10 of Class Act

“Hailey, say what you will, but I’ll never stop making sure you’re treated right.” Satisfied, Leonard nodded once. “Besides, I have a good feeling about the two of you.”

And that, according to Leonard Cox, was that.

Flustered and ridiculously uncomfortable, I turned to face Ford as Leonard walked away. “That was interesting.”

“So, you know Leonard?”

“I do.”

Ford nodded thoughtfully. His eyes focused on mine for the first time since I’d come up from the garage. Yes, he’d looked at me, but this was more. This was him trying to see inside of me. Those gray-blue eyes could make a brick give up its secrets . . .especially if that brick wanted nothing more than to snuggle in and spill her guts.

“Are you trying to decide if there’s some kind of risk in him thinking we’re dating material?” I dared to ask.

“Something like that.”

I painted on my most practiced smile, honed over years of social functions with my parents. “For the record, I’m not looking to get set up on a date by your business partner.”

A smirk bloomed at the reminder of words he’d slung my way a few days before. He raised the plate of cake he was still carrying as though making a toast. “Please, call me Ford.”

CHAPTER THREE

The soft leather soles of Meredith’s slides scuffed across the carpet of my classroom as she paced back and forth in front of the small desks. She tucked her hands in her pockets, and then pulled them out to cross her arms before once again jamming them into her pockets. It would be a miracle if her black slacks didn’t have holes in place of pockets by the time she was done.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Lizzie said kindly from her perch on top of one of the desks where her short legs swung back and forth, not quite meeting the floor.

I nodded from my own desktop. “Lizzie’s right.”

“I don’t know, I find it kind of soothing to watch her,” Aryn observed. She was sitting down in one of the desks with her head propped sideways on her hand, making her long red hair brush the smooth desktop and waterfall over the side.

Ruby patted the desk near her, and Meredith sat on top of it with a huff. “I’m sitting . . . I’m sitting,” she muttered, holding her hands up, palms out to ward off any more suggestions from us as her blue eyes flashed annoyance.

Meredith operated on a level of intensity that would exhaust any other person, but we all knew she loved us with that same fierceness, and it softened her in our eyes.

My friends had all been anxiously waiting for my post-party report, and as soon as the bell rang that afternoon, they’d all come straight to my classroom. The clicking of the large wall clock had been the only accompaniment to my story, and as I’d told them about Leonard’s suggestion that Ford and I should be dating, Meredith had started pacing. Actually, plotting was probably a better description. Pace-plotting was a specialty of hers.

My weekends were usually a time of rejuvenation for me, but this past one had been shot as I’d vacillated about what to do. I’d gotten over the initial shock of meeting the literal man of my dreams and started to do a teensy, tiny bit of overanalyzing the possibilities. On the one hand, I wanted to spend more time with Ford, because what woman, when faced with the object of her most secret desires, is going to turn that down? All it would take is one phone call to Leonard and I could be having a romantic dinner with Real Ford. On the other hand, he’d made it quite clear that he wasn’t interested in getting to know me, or any other woman, any better.

Rationally, I also understood that it wouldn’t be healthy of me to spend time around him until I wrenched my make-believe life out of my heart and faced the facts. I may have pretended to know him, but the truth was that he was a stranger. Fake Ford would have ordered the lobster, but Real Ford might be allergic to shellfish.

In the short month I’d taught Hillary, I’d never had the chance to meet him, and the interviews of his I’d read were professional and high level, nothing personal that could actually give me a feel for who he was. This was a confusing and irritating predicament. The worst part was that I’d done it to myself by having internet stalked him in the first place. I’d given up my principles, and now I was going through the five stages of grief over a man who did not exist.

And it had gotten worse, oh so much worse. I still hadn’t told my friends everything.

“So you went to Whittaker’s birthday party,” Meredith stated, raising one perfectly shaped, jet black brow.

I nodded, familiar with her habit of rehashing something until she fully understood it.

“It was really smart of you to wear that fantastic sequin wrap dress. I hope it had him immediately groveling at your feet,” Ruby added.

After being badgered for an hour, I’d sent them a picture of me in the dress before leaving home. That had kicked off a text string that had kept going until I’d arrived at Ford’s front door. There had been a lot of ‘you’ve got this’ from everyone but Meredith, who had sent me ‘kill the beast’ pictures, featuring cartoon characters. I’d laughed when I’d seen his castle-like home and sent a quick picture of it to the group. That tidbit had only encouraged Meredith

“There was no groveling,” I responded.

“Well, there’s no way he didn’t notice your lady curves,” Ruby pinched her lips. “He’s not blind.”

I shrugged, entertained by her irritation. “There was no conversation about any curves.”

“Tell me again exactly what he said to you,” Meredith chewed on her lip.

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