He carefully pulled a t-shirt over his head. “God bless modern medicine.”
Apart from their post–dunk booth coffee excursion, she’d never seen him without a button-down shirt, dark pants, and tie. Even on the occasional Fridays when teachers could donate to charity and wear jeans, he simply handed over his money and showed up to school in his usual outfit. She’d begun to believe he might not actually own a single piece of non-work clothing.
Which was fine. Whatever made him comfortable.
But there was something about seeing his surprisingly muscular forearms and legs…
He appeared oddly vulnerable, but also bigger somehow. More a man in his prime.
“You look different too.” Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who lifted weights in her free time. He had biceps. Noticeable ones. “I like that tee.”
“Christmas gift from Bea.” His grin brightened his eyes. “This one is nicer than the Black Death European Tour tee she gave me last year. Although the dates were historically accurate, which I appreciated, the rat on the front kind of freaked people out.”
She snorted. “I’ll have to see that sometime.”
“Be my guest.” He started to make a sweeping gesture toward his closet, then halted with a groan. “Damn you, modern medicine.”
His stomach growled again, and he stared at her pitifully.
She put an arm around his waist to support him—out of sheer altruism, not because she wanted to smell his piney shampoo or feel the press of his body against her side—and guided them toward the kitchen. “Let’s get you fed. I can ransack your closet later.”
His steps slowed. “I’ll take that as a promise.”
“You can take that any way you want.”
They were almost precisely the same height, so when he turned his head, his lips came a hairsbreadth from hers. “Really?”
His lashes were surprisingly long, but they didn’t shield the expression in his eyes. The yearning. The banked heat. The solemnity of a man ready to lay his soul bare.
When she licked her lips again, he followed the movement with his gaze.
Then his stomach protested with a rumble loud enough to wake neighbors.
Rolling his eyes, he sighed. “Dinner. Then we talk.”
Her arm tightened around his waist. “I’ll take that as a promise.”
* * *
“Your AP studentsshould be on track as far as the review lessons.” Rose handed Martin the sandwich she’d concocted with the spartan contents of his refrigerator and a crusty baguette she’d brought from her own house. “The sub said the kids in your honors classes did fine too, but I couldn’t determine that for myself, since I had my own classes to teach.”
Sandwich forgotten, he stared at her in horror. “You sacrificed both your planning periods to teach my AP classes? Your only break all day was lunch?”
“I won’t lie.” She took a big bite, chewed, and swallowed. “I’m a bit tired. But I can keep covering for you until you’re ready to come back.”
Now that he’d recovered from the initial gut-punch of seeing Rose entirely unguarded—in both expression and garb—for the first time ever, he could spot the circles beneath those wide-set amber eyes, the lines of tension around her lush mouth.
No teacher had ever covered for him like she had.
In fact, he couldn’t remember another teacher ever covering foranyonelike that.
This much gratitude was uncomfortable. Almost unbearable. “I should say no, but I honestly don’t know when I can come back, and my AP kids need a good teacher to help them review.”
“I figured.” She sipped from her can of Diet Coke. “It’s not a problem. You’d do the same for me.”
He would. But oh, God, she was going to exhaust herself every day. For the sake of his students, yes, but mostly for him. He knew that.
The sandwich now tasted like the dirt he’d inadvertently eaten the day before. “Rose, I don’t know whether to apologize for the rest of my life or fall at your feet in thanks.”
