LITMIR.BIZ

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precisely at four o’clock.

      “Max,” Harper said, sounding surprised when Max sidled up to Eddie, pressed against his side. “Still stuck here?”

      Max lifted a shoulder.

      She wrinkled her nose. “That’s a drag. I can’t wait to leave at the end of the day. Hey, would you do me a favor?” Before Max could even blink, she continued in her rapid-fire speech. “Could you walk—and by walk I mean that slow movement of putting one foot in front of the other that is not running, hopping or skipping—to the office to check if I have any mail?”

      Seemed she knew Max well. He didn’t do anything slowly. Except talk.

      While Max headed toward the door, Harper gestured for Eddie to follow her as she crossed the room. His gaze fell to the sway of her hips. She had on tan pants and a long sweater the color of rust that molded to her ass. A wide brown belt accentuated the indentation of her waist and he wondered, briefly, what it would be like to set his hands there.

      He stumbled, bumped into a desk.

      She glanced over her shoulder at him.

      His face burning, he stared resolutely at a spot somewhere above her head. Maybe he hadn’t fully let that earlier awareness go.

      “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me.” She set her cup on the desk. “Although, I have to admit, I was hoping to speak with you alone.”

      “I didn’t have time to find a sitter.”

      Hadn’t taken the time to find one. Not when it wasn’t necessary. He only asked for help with his kid when there was no other solution. Absolutely, positively no other solution.

      “It’s not a problem,” she assured him. “But would you mind if I gave him something to keep him occupied while we talk?”

      Eddie shrugged.

      “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said cheerily, then gestured to the chair across from her desk. “Can I get you anything? There’s coffee in the break room or—”

      “Is Max in trouble?” Eddie loved his kid more than life itself, but that didn’t mean he thought Max could do no wrong. Everyone made mistakes. Best if you owned up to them, learned from them and, most importantly, never repeated the same one twice.

      Max was having a hard time with that last part.

      “Trouble? No, he’s not in trouble,” she said slowly enough that he didn’t believe her. “I thought we should touch base on a couple of things, that’s all.”

      After sitting, she organized a pile of papers. He could practically see her organizing her thoughts, as well. Her desk was covered; papers and math workbooks were stacked in neat piles, a plastic bin sat empty at the corner. A stapler, tape dispenser and hole punch lined up with the edge of the desk. Pencils, pens and markers were jumbled together in a wooden holder declaring that Teachers Have Class.

      She was as tidy and put together as her desk, her hair smooth, her nails trimmed and painted a light pink.

      He rubbed the frayed knees of his jeans. Wondered if he should have gone home, shaved first, but that would have been stupid, going all the way across town to comb his hair and rid himself of his day-old—okay, three-day-old—beard. He had no one to impress here. Nothing to prove. His kid was well dressed, well mannered and, other than a few scrapes in the playground last year, well behaved.

      And well loved.

      If Harper didn’t see that, she wasn’t as smart as her rank in their high school graduating class had indicated.

      “No mail?” Harper asked as Max returned.

      He shook his head.

      “Thanks for checking. Would you like to play a game on the iPad while your dad and I talk?”

      “Okay,” he said quietly, his gaze flicking to his teacher’s face before lowering again.

      “Great.” She took an iPad from her desk drawer, handed it and headphones to him. “Why don’t you sit in the beanbag chair?”

      He hurried to the corner and toed off his sneakers. Sitting cross-legged, he put on the headphones and, as easily as that, was cut off from the world, lost in whatever educational game Harper had on that tablet.

      Those things were like magic.

      “I was thrilled to see Max’s name on my class list at the beginning of the year,” Harper said, sounding as if she really meant it. “I had your niece and she was a pure delight.”

      Because Bree always worried about doing the right thing, loved to read and never got a grade lower than an A. Sort of like the woman before him. In school Harper had been one of the brainiacs. Popular with both students and teachers, she’d been incredibly smart and impossibly friendly.

      It wasn’t natural to be that nice all the time.

      No surprise Harper thought highly of Bree. He didn’t hold his niece’s sweetness or intelligence against her. He loved her like crazy.

      He just didn’t want his son compared to her.

      “Bree’s a good girl,” he said.

      “She is. She must be in what...? Fifth grade now?”

      “Sixth.”

      “Middle school? It doesn’t seem possible. How’s she liking it?”

      “Fine.” And what any of this had to do with Harper’s reason for calling him to meet with her, he had no idea. Women. Why couldn’t they just say what was on their mind? It would save everyone a hell of a lot of time and trouble.

      “I’m glad she’s doing well. It can be a big transition for some kids, that leap from elementary to middle school.”

      She looked as if she expected him to respond to that but since he had nothing to add, he kept quiet.

      “Well,” she said, “anyway, thank you for coming in today. I was sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk at the open house.”

      He narrowed his eyes slightly. Straightened in his uncomfortable seat. Was that a reprimand? If it was, why couldn’t she lay into him instead of making him guess whether or not she was pissed? “I was working.”

      When he wasn’t working, he spent time with his kid, not running off to meetings and socializing. He wasn’t going to apologize for it.

      “Are you still at Bradford House?” Harper asked.

      He nodded. Everyone wanted to know about Bradford House. Some were interested in the renovations Montesano Construction was doing at one of the oldest homes in Shady Grove, Pennsylvania. They wanted a description of every room, or an invitation to see the soon-to-be fully operational bed-and-breakfast themselves without actually paying to stay there.

      Or they brought up Bradford House’s owner, Neil Pettit, a hometown boy who was now one of the NHL’s elite players. They wanted the latest gossip, insider information about Neil’s reasons for buying the Victorian, his sister Fay’s suicide attempt and his reconciliation with Eddie’s younger sister, Maddie, a few months back.

      Eddie drummed his fingers on his thigh. Waited for Harper to start with the inevitable questions or probing comments, ones designed to get answers to topics that were none of her business.

      “It’s so great that Neil and Maddie are together after all these years of living separate lives.”

      See?

      He grunted.

      She remained undeterred and, unfortunately, talkative. “It’s so romantic.” She leaned forward as if they were two good buddies sharing happy secrets and fun times. “High school sweethearts falling in love again.”

      Romantic. Christ.

      Funny how so many people agreed with Harper. Guess they conveniently

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