Page 11 of Perfectly Complicated
I turn around slowly, still barefoot and suddenly very aware that I’m standing here in just a tank top and jeans.
Rourke Riley stands in my doorway, all six foot four of him, his eyes grazing over me before they snap back up to my face. His hair falls in dark waves across his forehead, and he looks just as devastating as the night I met him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, feeling like the floor just dropped out from under my feet.
His eyes flick to mine. “Isn’t this Christmas pageant rehearsal?” For a second, he looks genuinely confused.
“Yes. But how did you know that?” I say.
“Because I’m…” He pauses, and suddenly everything makes sense.
He’s the adult volunteer.Rourke Riley.The local celebrity.
“You’re the volunteer?” I ask. “YOU?”
He stares at me blankly. “Yeah. Don’t look so excited.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I exhale under my breath.
“I take it you didn’t know?” he says, studying me.
“No, Principal Callahan conveniently left that part out,” I say angrily, whirling away from him to search for my shoes. “Sorry if I seem…um, surprised.” I search under my desk, then behind a stack of chairs.
“Well, I’m full of surprises, Janie.”
I straighten. “That’sMs.Bennett to you,” I remind him. “I can’t have the kids calling me by my first name.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Okay, fine,Ms. Bennett.”
The way he says my name—like the formality is killing him—tells me everything I need to know about how this pageant is going to go.
“Let me lay out the rules for you,” I say, circling around a group of chairs. “I’m the director. So you’ll take orders from me. And you won’t rile up the kids.”
He frowns. “Who said I’ll rile up the kids?”
“I saw how you behaved at the summer reading program.”
“The kids loved me, remember?” He gives me a smile that probably makes most women weak. But not me. I won’t fall for that smile again.
“They loved your balloon animals,” I clarify. “There’s a difference.”
“Semantics.” He shrugs, then glances at my feet, studying them in a way that makes me feel self-conscious. “Let me guess—red toes for Christmas?” The way he says it makes it feel wrong. Inappropriate, somehow.
“What’s wrong with that?” I say.
“Nothing. It just matches your face,” he notes with a smirk.
“Well, this room runs insanely hot in the winter.” Or maybe it’s the effect Rourke is having on me, noticing me in a way I haven’t been looked at in a very long time. Ifinally see my cardigan and pull it on as Rourke wanders over to the costume rack.
He holds up a child-sized elf costume against his huge frame. “These look a little small for me, don’t you think?” It looks like it would barely cover his left thigh.
“That’s not for you.” I take it from him and slide it back onto the rack just as I spot my boots on the floor.
“Where’s the Santa suit, then?” he asks.
“I’m sorry, but I think there has been a mistake,” I say, sliding my boots back on. “You can’t play Santa.”
He crosses his arms, and for a second, I think he looks almost pleased. “Why not?”
