Page 13 of Curveball
She scowls and drags her feet.
“You’d rather hang out in the house with me for three days?”
“Daddy, you’re so mean!”
“That’s what I thought.”
I kiss the top of her head and give her shoulder a slight shove to get her moving. When I’m sure she’s on her way, I rush down the hall until I catch up to . . .what the fuck do I even call her?
Is she Palmer Girl from last night who was less than forthright about her identity, or is she Mrs. Sloan, the uptight shrew I only just met since I always seem to be out of town when Natalie has events at school.
“Hey there, wait!”Nice and generic.
She turns, impatience written in her features.The shrew it is.
“Mrs. Sloan.”
“Mr. Murphy. And it’s Ms.”
She blows out a slow breath, but she may as well have huffed out loud. Her eyes shift to icy slits, but I’ve got a temper of my own and I don’t mind sharing. I lower my voice to a hiss. No sense drawing a crowd.
“Just what the hell game were you playing at last night? You’re a married woman, and you came on to me as hot as a sorority girl at a rush party.”
Her back goes rigid and she stutters before spitting out her full thought.
“I-I-I didn’t act any more irrationally than you did, chasing after me into the bathroom to call dibs, of all things. Are youseven?And then, I find out you’re the parent of one of my students! I have exactly the same question for you, mister—just what kind of game wereyouplaying? Did you get a thrill pretending you didn’t know who I was?” She pauses for a breath,and a look of horror overtakes her already furious expression. “Are you planning to blackmail me?”
The woman is delusional, that’s the only answer to any of my questions, and now I’m shackled to her for as long as it takes our two budding juvenile delinquents to get square with the headmaster.
I scoff. “No, lady. Why the fuck would I want to blackmail you? You make no sense at all, yet they let you teach our kids?”
Her gaze darts away, but when it returns, her eyes are narrowed and her lips are twisted in a sneer as she grinds out, “Not only do they let me, but they pay me to do it, which is where I’m heading. Did you stop me for a particular purpose, or simply to harass me?”
There she is with the bitchy comments again. Still.
There aren’t any students visible in this corridor. No staff either. We seem to be alone in this wing of the school. My gut wants me to slice this woman to shreds with my words, give her a taste of my frustration for what her son’s actions are putting us through. But I’ve been in this business long enough to know that cameras and recorders lurk around every corner. I lift my gaze over her shoulder to keep from looking her in the eye, all while measuring my breathing, and my tone.
“Look. Lady. This event on Saturday is only for kids in the program. It’ll be pretty short, only from ten to noon, maybe one by the time we get cleaned up and out of there. I’ll have someone call you with details—what time to arrive, where to report, that sort of thing. Volunteers all wear a special T-shirt so we know who they are. I’ll make sure Dylan gets added to the list.”
I pivot to leave but then remember one last thing, and damn me to hell, but for as much effort as I just put into remaining rational, I hope these words cut like razors.
Chapter 6
Palmer
After Max demonstrates what a jerk he can be and how much of a bullet I dodged by leaving when I did last night, he turns away as if dismissing me. But oh joy, he spins back and speaks through his curled lip.
“Since he’s a minor, Dylan will need at least one parent present for as long as he’s on the field.” I manage to keep my jaw from dropping, but the hair on the back of my neck prickles, my back stiffens, and I want to spit out that I already know that. I deal with safety regulations on the regular. “If you can’t make it, or choose not to come, your husband will have to be there.”
These words come across more like a criticism than a fishing expedition; more like a threat than a statement—and they don’t mix well with the sour feeling developing in my stomach.
I kissed this man. Ienjoyedit, damn it! But now I only feel gullible, and taken advantage of. The same way his daughter made my son?—
No, no. Learning lessons are hard, and I have to accept that Dylan will have those. Max widens his stance and again avoids making eye contact.
“Look, I’m already planning to be there. The kids expect it. It’s my gig, and besides, I love spending time with them and teaching them the fundamentals of sports.”
I am not excited about spending my morning off with Max Murphy, and overselling it won’t make that change. I look up, hold strong until he meets my gaze, anddamn, I forgot just how tall he is. I may have also disregarded the thrill of that tattoo that covers his forearm.
