LITMIR.BIZ

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glanced over at him, seeing his thoughtful gaze on the girl. He didn’t say anything, and Christy noted with approval that he had indeed finished all the ice cream. Then she realized what she’d just said. He wouldn’t have been an awkward twelve-year-old. More likely, he’d been the scrappy kid everyone allowed into whatever group simply because no one could ever say no to him.

      “Oh,” she said out loud. “You probably don’t remember an awkward phase. That wouldn’t have been your problem.”

      His gaze cut hard back to her. “And what would have been my problem?”

      “Not failing at anything you put your mind to.”

      His eyebrows arched. “That’s a problem?”

      She shrugged. “Yeah, it is, the minute you hit an obstacle you can’t will your way through.”

      He snorted. “I’m a marine. I’m used to impossible obstacles.”

      “Which you overcome. Until you hit the one you can’t.”

      He shrugged, but the gesture appeared forced. “There’s always a way through or around something. And if there isn’t, you learn how to accept and go on.”

      She stretched out her legs in front of her. “So how’s that going, big guy? The accepting part?”

      He didn’t answer and in a moment, she wasn’t surprised when he turned the conversation to her. Conversational aggression, a patented guy technique to avoid facing more personal issues. “So what are you going to do about Judy?”

      She looked at him. “Do? What do you mean, do? I’m going to tutor her in algebra.”

      “But you said that’s not her real problem.” He gestured again to where the girl was still half attached to the group as the others gathered their stuff to go somewhere. Even from here, she could hear the girl thinking: Do I force myself on them? No one invited me to join. Am I pushing in where I’m not wanted? I should just go home. No one wants me here anyway.

      Sure enough the other kids started moving away. One of the girls hesitated, looking back uncertainly at Judy. But then one of the boys said something and she turned away, the invitation unspoken. Judy lifted her hand in a sad little wave as everyone else moved on. Then a second later, she swatted at a nearby chair and shuffled off in the opposite direction.

      Heartbreaking.

      Christy sighed. Childhood sucked. It shouldn’t, but it usually did.

      “Someone needs to talk to the other kids. Get them to bring her along.”

      She canted a glance at Jason. “‘Cause that’s gonna help. An adult ordering the others to accept her. Any friendships she makes will always be cast in doubt.”

      His frown deepened. “So you just leave her to sink or swim on her own?”

      “So I feed her ice-cream sundaes even though I’m on a diet and I get her to talk about who she is inside. If I accept her, maybe she’ll be strong enough to risk showing that to someone else too.”

      He chewed on that for a moment. “That’s pretty deep for a summer tutor.” He said it like a compliment, so she took it as such.

      “There are no shortcuts, even in childhood. Especially in childhood. We want to go fix it for her, but all we can do is give them the space to be who they really are. The rest falls where it will.”

      “Voice of experience?”

      She laughed. “You asking if my early years in teaching had me telling kids who to accept and how to play? Well, yeah, it did. But I also spent a lot of years watching from the sidelines. I picked up a few things along the way.” She smiled. “Mom used to say I was psychic. I knew things about people without being told. Truth is, I’m just really, really observant.”

      “I’m observant,” he said. “You’re … a lot more than that.”

      “Okay, so maybe observant plus experienced.” She glanced at his empty bowl. “Feeling better now that you’ve got some blood sugar?”

      He snorted again, obviously about to deny it. But he didn’t speak. Instead he gave her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, all right. Maybe things look better after ice cream.”

      “Always my motto.”

      “Or maybe it’s because I’m sitting next to a gorgeous woman who does not need to be on a diet.”

      A smooth move if ever there was one. Smooth and obvious, but that didn’t stop the zing of excitement deep in her belly. But before she could respond, a quick flash of regret hit his face before he turned away. Like he was sorry for taking the conversation to a sexual level.

      “Jason?”

      “Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking that I’m feeling restless. It’s not good for a marine to be restless. I need to do something.”

      Now, it was her turn to snort. “So we’re back to punishing yourself.”

      “What?” The word was clipped and hard.

      She gestured again at the pool. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that your extra anxiety has nothing to do with a problem you can’t solve. Tell me that you’re not burning energy out of anger and I’ll shut up. But you seem awful pissed off to me.”

      “I’m not angry!” he snapped. Then he abruptly flushed and moderated his tone. “I mean, yeah, maybe I’m frustrated, but when I’m angry, believe me, you’ll know it. Everybody knows it.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward a bit. “I’m a yeller. When I get angry, I get right in the asshole’s face and just let fly.”

      “That’s not anger. That’s a military thing. You call it discipline and whatever. But if I had to guess, you tuck fury deep inside, bury it hard. Then you go blow something up. Don’t marines like explosives? Like to an unhealthy degree?”

      He didn’t answer for a long while. She found she liked that about him. That he didn’t blurt out the first thing that came to his mind like she often did. No, he was a thoughtful man. And then, he smiled at her. A slow smile that had her thoughts heading somewhere very different indeed.

      “I’m going with your mom,” he said. “Definitely psychic.”

      “Don’t I wish. It would make tutoring a zillion times easier. Or maybe not. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what my fifteen-year-old boys are thinking.”

      Jason chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you already do know what they’re thinking. Especially if you were wearing that dress. And I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be in words. More like graphic—”

      “Stop!” she said, laughing. “I really don’t want to think about my students in those terms.”

      “Fair enough!” he said as he abruptly surged to his feet. “Come on. I feel like a bike ride. Wanna join me?”

      She smiled up at him. He was holding out his hand, offering to help her up. She took it, almost shyly, not because she was embarrassed about touching him. On the contrary, with the things she was thinking, hands were the smallest of touches she wanted to share with him. It was more about his unexpected offer. A bike ride. When was the last time someone had asked her to go riding?

      “I …” she began.

      “Do you have another tutoring appointment?”

      “No. No, I’m done for the day. But …” But what? She rapidly thought of an excuse. “I don’t have a bike.”

      “That’s okay. They rent them along the beach. Come on. It’ll be my treat.”

      She shook her head. “There’s no way I can keep up with you. You’ll spend the whole time irritated because I’m huffing and puffing behind you.”

      He frowned. “What am I? Eight? I’m not talking

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