Page 14 of Teach’s Hayride with the Baller

School approved embrace. Check.

But the look in his eyes promised me that what we’d just done was small to whatever he had in mind for next.

“You don’t know me,” I breathed, pressing backward. My legs trembled and chose that moment to give up. I was all too ready to sit my butt on the grass like a kid, but Zack kept me standing, lacking both hands around my waist, and using his body for support.

“I know you work hard. I know you’re stuck between wanting to be you and hiding behind who you think you should be. And I think there's a part of Miss Templeton who got hurt once. Maybe a while ago, maybe some time more recent. She figures that being safe all the time is the easiest way never to be hurt again.” His eyes dared me to tell him that he read me wrong.

I couldn’t.

“Haunted house is up next, right?” I choked out.

A moment passed where I thought I might witness a flash of triumph in his eyes, or worse, pity. Instead, Zack leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I know the best one in town,” he promised softly. “And what sort of tour guide would I be if I didn’t let you choose between trying Broomcorn’s famous iced tea, or another one of those spiced lattes?”

I bit my lip. “You’re too nice,” I whispered, unwilling to tell him I couldn't choose. That too many choices were overwhelming after the corn maze.

“Too much?” He leaned down, cupping my chin until I had to look up at him and read the truth in my eyes. The corners of his lips quirked. “Don’t play poker, Miss Templeton. Iced chai, or Cherry Pie tea?”

I blinked. “I hate making decisions,” I whispered. “I was trying to get out of choosing between hot and cold a minute ago.”

He surveyed me. “Come on. The cherry is good and it doesn’t give you flash backs of cough syrup from your childhood.”

I choked on a laugh. “That’s always a bonus.” I let him lead us to a drinks stand that looked like a fantasy stall full of drink machines and bright liquids.

A head taller—maybe shoulders, too—than everyone else, Zack managed to secure an order, and soon I had a small iced tea in my hands and Zack’s arms around me again.

“You’re feely. And comfy,” I added as he tucked me against his chest beneath the glow of fake fireflies in jars dangling beneath a tree. No one else seemed to have found the spot so for the moment, we were out of the crowd.

“I like contact.” The behemoth at my back shrugged.

“And you’re not half as stupid as you let people believe.” I clamped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. That thought was in the open and there was no taking it back now.

Zack stiffened. “Is that what they think?” he drawled softly, but there was a tension that stilted his words that wasn't there before.

I bit my lip and turned to face him. “Damn. I’m sorry,.” I apologized. “I saw everything that comes to mind. You wanted a cultural immersion for me? Well, welcome to mine. Sometimes, we’re considered really rude because Aussies tend not to sugar coat stuff. And you, Mister Dawson, have been the perfect gentleman all night long.”

His eyes darkened as he leaned in, his hands clamped around my waist. “Even when I hand my hand up your skirt, teach?”

My heart beat ramped it right up. “Ah, maybe not then? But you found ways not to get me sacked on the spot. I hope,” I whispered back, my heart thumping hard against my ribs.

“Yeah?” He massaged my nape gentle, warm, firm circles that left my head tipped back and his breath on my lips. A gentle pinch to my side left me suffocating a squeak that would have drawn every eye in the vicinity. “Finish your tea, honey. There’s a few things left I want to show you.”

I found a trash can—proud of myself for getting the language right in my head—and the sign that said, “Haunted House”.

“This one?” I said doubtfully, aiming a thumb at the brightly lit and people filled path heading toward what looked like a decorated shed.

Zack grinned, and the old him was back. “Did I mention something about the best tour in town? This way, Miss Templeton.” He turned me in the opposite direction, along a literal garden path that led into an unlit section of…

The woods.

“Ah, I’m going to get murdered,” I joked/didn't joke at all.

Zack leaned across the path and rapped on a tree trunk with the back of his fist. “Hey, can you all come out? My girl needs proof of life.”

I took a step back, but Zack’s hand fixed firmly to mine. “I really need to get back—” I whispered.

“You’re good,” he whispered back. “This isn’t as crazy as it looks. Just a haunted woods, okay?”

That’s not crazy at all.