Page 8 of The Santa Rules
“You know, like this,” I say, and then give her a seductive onceover.
“Never do that to me again,” Raven says between laughs.
“What was his name? Tell me you got his name or his number.” Lucy is practically bouncing out of her seat, leaning over the table as she speaks.
“He said his name was Hardy, no number. I’ve never seen him around town before,” I reply.
“I think I sold him a house! Tall guy, dark hair, great jawline with the perfect amount of stubble? Lives in a small two-bedroom cottage on the side of Nicholas Bluff, on the edge of Chestnut Mountain limits?” Summer asks, rapid-fire.
“Sounds like his description,” I confirm. “No clue where he lives, though.”
The door swings open, and the air grows thick with Amber’s heavy, sickly sweet perfume as her nasal voice interrupts our conversation.
“Oh good, you’re all here. Are you going to just sit there gabbing, or are you actually going to help me set up the meeting?”
With my back to Amber, I roll my eyes to the group and slowly stand to help. In minutes, we have all the agendas dispersed among the tables as parents start arriving.
“It’s a shame you didn’t clean your room before this. What’s the point of getting here early if you aren’t going to prepare for the meeting and make your room look presentable?” she says, pointing to the bucket of crayons in the corner of the room that spilled in the chaos of dismissal earlier today. “Wouldn’t want the town hearing about yetanothermess you made.”
I take a calming breath before I reply, choosing to let her dig roll off my back like water on a duck. As a boy mom, I’m the queen of letting shit go. “I’ll allow it” is a frequent mantra of mine since sweating the small stuff only brought me ulcers andnervous bowels. “Eh, I figured I’d get to it when I get to it. This is a kindergarten classroom, after all. I don’t think anyone’s going to care about some spilled crayons.” Just like no one should care about my messy private life since the divorce.
The responding twitch in her eye almost makes me laugh out loud. Instead I hold a fist to my mouth and fake a cough.
“Remind me not to put you in charge of Santa’s Workshop,” she mutters under her breath. “Don’t need you screwing another thing up like you did your marriage.”
I blink in shock. “What was that?”
Before she can answer, several parents walk in the room, and Amber gestures for me to go hand them the sign-in form before turning her back and effectively dismissing me.
As I trudge over to the door, Summer links her arm with mine, pulling me off course as she turns me to face her.
“About that guy you were telling us about…”
“Yeah?” I ask, my brows pinching in confusion.
“Don’t look now, but he just walked in.”
My head swivels toward the door, and I spot the tall EMT who recently touched my boob.
“I said don’t look,” Summer hisses, but it’s too late. Hardy spots me, and he lifts a brow as his eyes roam down to my chest and back up again.
In a panic I look down at my chest, worried I’m exposing myself again. Nope, all covered. Phew. When I look up at him again, he’s chuckling, and I cringe at my awkwardness.
This is why I do hookup apps. Get in, get off, get out, all before I can open my mouth and let my awkward turtle loose. That, and once guys learn I’m a single mom with a teenage son, my sexy meter drops to zero.
“Bella, the sign-ups!” Amber’s nasal voice singsongs in that syrupy tone you use when you’ve told someone to do something three times now and they haven’t done it but you don’t want to come across as a bitch.
I start walking toward the door, almost in slow motion,stopping in front of Hardy as I thrust the clipboard toward him, saying nothing.
He looks at me confused, before he takes it and pulls out a pen. “This is a blank sheet of paper. What am I writing on it?”
“Your number,” I say, then quickly squeeze my eyes shut. Shit. Maybe if I keep them closed, he’ll disappear.
He clears his throat, and I open my eyes. The corner of his mouth lifts. “Do I get your number if I give you mine?”
“I…uhhh. It’s a sign-in form for the meeting. You put your name, number, and email.”
“Ah.” His piercing blue eyes scan my face before settling on my lips. “You didn’t answer my question.”
