My head whips down to look at her and then back up at Reid in horror. Mr. Corser is the name of her school principal, I remember that from the emails I received. But she can’t be saying…Reid…he’s the principal? Oh God.
“Layla, we won’t make anyone pick up poop,” I say. His lips quirk up into a small smirk and I clench my hands. It’s so hard not to touch him, to see if he’s real. But then opportunity falls into my lap when Miss Denton, Layla’s teacher, walks over.
“Oh good, you’ve met. Mr. Corser is our principal, and Abby is Farmer Martin’s niece. She’s going to lead our field trip today.”
Reid holds out his hand, and I place mine in his. The warmth of his touch draws a small gasp from me, but no one notices. No one, that is, except Reid, judging by the flare of heat in his eyes.
“Yes, we’ve…met,” he replies, eventually dragging his eyes to Miss Denton. She looks between us, and I snatch my hand away from his. The last thing I need is my kid’s teacher thinking I’m some kind of slutty mom flirting with the hot principal.Even though that’s exactly what I’m doing.
I’m saved from any further interaction with Reid by Miss Denton cheerfully introducing me to the group, and then I’m explaining to the kids what we do at the farm, and what we’ll be learning today. There’s a cow milking session set up, the goats they can feed and brush, and we’ll show them the chickens and bunnies as well. Then Uncle Steve is going to be doing a wreath craft with them using some branches from our trees. It’s the only thing he can do while sitting down, and even though he griped and complained about doing the “artsy-fartsy stuff,” I saw how much fun he had making a practice one with Layla last night.
For a couple of hours I’m able to put Reid aside and focus on showing what feels like a thousand small children how to milk a cow. Thank goodness Betty, our heifer for the day, is the most patient and calm animal ever. She handles the noise, the petting, and the chaos with nothing more than a flutter of her eyelashes and chewing of her feed.
But then Reid’s group walks into the barn where I’m set up and suddenly it hits me. I have to milk a cow in front of the hottest man I’ve ever spoken to. Nothing says sexy quite like that. I avoid making eye contact with him, instead focusing on the rambunctious kids bouncing in their seats. Betty looks at me from the corner of her eye and winks slowly. I swear she’s judging me. My demonstration has the kids giggling as I had hoped it would when I squirt the milk right onto a bullseye I’d placed on the floor. After that, they lined up to have a turn trying to milk good old Betty. I’m so engrossed in helping the kids squeeze and roll their hands the right way that I don’t realize Reid is standing next to me until I look up after helping the last child.
There’s an odd expression on his face, one I can’t quite figure out. Until he leans down and murmurs softly, “Watching your hands move like that is giving me all kinds of ideas. That…squeeze and tug technique? That would feel pretty damn amazing somewhere else.”
I duck my head so the kids don’t see the fierce blush I’m positive is covering my face. Good Lord, it’s never been so hot and steamy in this barn. “I…I…well…” Words are hard right now.
“I only wish I had the chance to show you whatIcan do with a nipple or two.”
My mouth drops open and my head flies up to look at him. Did he seriously just say that? But Reid just winks and turns to walk back to the kids, clapping his hands to get their attention, leaving me feeling completely turned on and beyond confused.
Thank God the kids leave soon after Reid wound me up tighter than a spring. Layla gives me a hug before she climbs on the bus, and she doesn’t seem to realize her mother is a hot mess. When the bus pulls away, my shoulders sag.
“Alright missy, care to share what’s got you all flustered? I haven’t seen you like this since that summer I hired the Walters boy to help out.”
I drop my head with a groan. “I had forgotten about that.” Cameron Walter was two years older than me, and at fourteen, I was obsessed. Watching him lift heavy hay bales was my favourite pastime that summer.
“It’s the principal, isn’t it? That Reid Corser?” I sit down on the bench next to my uncle and nod. “He is a handsome fella, I’ll give you that, and obviously good with kids. But it might not be the best idea to start something up with him.”
“Trust me, I know. It’s all kinds of inappropriate,” I mumble.
“Now, I didn’t say that. You’re two consenting adults, and it was certainly obvious to me that the attraction goes both ways. I just meant that it might make things awkward for Layla.”
I let my head fall back against the wall behind us with a thud. “Trust me. Every decision I make, I think about Layla. This is no different. Nothing is going to happen between Reid and I. It can’t.”
But here’s the funny thing about words. They don’t mean much unless you put the actions behind them. And for the rest of the afternoon until it’s time for me to drive into town and pick Layla up from school, Reid is never far from my thoughts. I thought it was bad enough picturing him when I’m alone in bed at night with nothing but my trusty vibrator for company. That’s nothing compared to how awkward I feel while working alongside my uncle and training the seasonal employees hired to help with Christmas tree sales. I swear every time Uncle Steve walks past, he chuckles or shakes his head. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror, I realize why. My face is flushed and my hair is a mess where I keep pulling at it and twisting it around my fingers. I try to quickly tame the wild waves back into a braid and splash some cold water on my face. It’s slightly better. But really, what are the chances I’ll even see him? I’ve been picking Layla up from school for weeks now, and I had no idea Reid even lived in Dogwood Cove.
Turns out the universe is against me today because when I pull up to the front of the school, who’s chatting with my daughter? Mr. Corser, theprincipal.Neither of them notice my head drop down to the steering wheel, but when I hit the horn by mistake they both look over. No big deal, just totally mortifying. It’s fine. I’m fine.
Reid strolls over, looking cool, calm, and collected. Reluctantly, I roll down the passenger window, letting the precious heat out into the cold winter air, and unfortunately letting Reid’s delicious scent waft in.
“Hello again, Abby.” He flashes me that smile and I shiver. It’s the cold. I’ll blame the cold. But based on his knowing smirk, he doesn’t think it’s the cold. “I was hoping to chat with you about future field trips at the farm. Would you mind if I gave you a call sometime?”
Oh. He wants to talk to me about field trips. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was disappointed, but I mask it and give him a quick nod. “Sure, that would be fine. Do you need my number?”
He shakes his head. “No, I can get it from Layla’s student file. Is it a cell or home number that we have?”
“It’ll be my cell.”
“Perfect.”
Later that evening, after Layla is in bed and Uncle Steve has gone to his room to watch some television, I sink down into the ancient green couch that has been in the living room of the farmhouse since I was a small child. I lift my glass of wine to my lips and am about to take a much-anticipated swallow when my phone vibrates with an incoming call. The caller ID says unknown, but my heart starts to race anyway. I know it’s Reid.
“Hello?” I keep my voice low, even though I know my daughter will sleep through a hurricane and Steve has his TV so loud I can hear it out here.
“Hi, Abby.”
