The one glaring at me.
The one trying so hard not to smile.
The one who worries about children, and fundraisers, and permits, and everybody except herself.
Firecracker.
That’s exactly what she is.
Maybe fake dating is a terrible idea.
Maybe it’ll blow up in my face.
Maybe she’ll tell me to go to hell.
But if pretending to date Mary Donahue helps save her school, gets that gym built, and gives me an excuse to spend time with the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met?
Well.
I’ve done dumber things.
Hell.
I mean, I punched a councilman three days ago and I’ve been sitting outside a Catholic grammar school all morning, just trying to figure out what to do next.
And I think I’ve found it.
Three
Mary
Kai Montego is a terrible idea.
An absolutely awful, no good can come from this, disaster waiting to happen idea.
Which is precisely why I can't stop thinking about him.
Three days after the Valentine’s Day dance disaster, I'm sitting at my desk in my first-grade classroom at Our Lady of Grace Academy staring at a stack of spreadsheets, permit applications, contractor estimates, and fundraising projections while trying very hard not to think about broad shoulders, dark eyes, and a grin that should honestly be illegal.
And it's not working.
Neither is the gym project.
I let my forehead thunk against my desk.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The stack of papers doesn't magically fix itself.
Rude.
“Ms. Donahue? Are you alright? Oh my, are you crying?”
I lift my head.
