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She closed the white French doors to the library but one of the door handles hit her in the back when it bounced open again. Bright light shone through the solarium porch, which offered a lovely yet distracting view of the lake out back. Sun danced off the ripples in the water and sparkled like diamonds and highlighted books that flanked one another in no particular height or order. Leather-bound classic tales stood next to new romances. Oh, what she would give to spend the afternoon here and put things in order. But she had things to do right now.
Natasha’s and Stephanie’s eyes were glued to Stephanie’s phone. British clapped twice again. “Hello? Please don’t make me take your phone away.”
“Sorry, Ms. B,” said Stephanie.
“She’s afraid her boyfriend is looking at other girls.”
Stephanie elbowed Natasha in the ribs. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Whatever he is,” British said, taking a deep breath to tamp down her amusement, “he can wait until we finish going over the rules I just received for the STEM-Off.” She was
met with a round of groans as she extracted the folded piece of paper she had printed off from the superintendent this morning. “You guys are familiar with competitions. There are five groups. You, the boys from Southwood Middle, two high school teams and one group from the elementary school.”
An almost collective aww and how cute filled the room.
British looked up and cleared her throat. She held her hand out in front of Kathleen to turn over the handheld game system and continued without missing a beat in reading the directions. From what she gathered, the competition would be set up like one of the baking challenges she’d watched on the Food Network. There would be two challenges: a small round and a bigger round incorporating each faction of STEM. If they won the small STEM challenge, they could add another member to their team for the bigger STEM challenge. British liked the girls to do work on simple everyday items people didn’t realize used science, technology, engineering or math. The girls needed to brainstorm their ideas. Once they got into that room, the teachers were no longer able to help. Teachers would be designated seats behind the judges. At Districts, there’d be no teachers at all. The teams were going to have to come up with a variety of supplies needed for the Southwood competition and be prepared for any task they were given.
“Can we come up with a new video game, one where the girl is the heroine? That way we can cover engineering and tech, and she can be a scientist,” Kathleen spoke up. “Ya know?”
“Considering a lot of judges on the Christmas Advisory Council are women—” British said, trying to focus on the page in front of her. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. Odd that she sensed him there. The only presence she’d felt before was Christian’s. It also helped to see that Donovan managed to evoke that familiar, googly-eyed gaze not just from women at the Cupcakery but also from impressionable teenage girls. “Mr. Ravens?” British called out. “We’re trying to brainstorm down here.”
Not caring, Donovan stepped through the half-closed French doors, oblivious as to how his tight white shirt hugged his muscular frame or the way the well-worn denim hugged those thick thighs and tapered waist. He claimed to work in the office at Ravens Cosmetics but if she didn’t know any better British would swear the man simply worked out for a living.
“I don’t mean to pry.” His deep voice chilled her bones.
“Of course not,” British mumbled, rubbing her left hand over her right forearm to keep the goose bumps away.
“I didn’t realize you all were going to be meeting here in the library,” Donovan went on to say.
“Did you need a book, Mr. Ravens?” Stephanie asked, getting up from her spot. “Or maybe a magazine?”
British shook her head at the way the girls fawned over him. “I told you already, Mr. Ravens—”
“Donovan,” he corrected and gave the girls a wink. “‘Mr. Ravens’ sounds so stuffy, like my brothers.”
The girls giggled and British sighed. “Okay, if you say so, but I warned you we’d be here working.”
“I understand—” Donovan nodded “—and I would be remiss if I didn’t intervene here.”
Hands on her hips, British cocked a brow up at him. Was he always this tall? “How would you like to butt in?”
Another round of giggles.
“I heard you mention something called a Christmas Advisory Council.”
Something in Donovan’s tone irked her. He probably didn’t believe such a thing existed. “We’re a small town, sure, but we take the upcoming holiday season seriously around here.”
“I don’t doubt you.” Like he had earlier, Donovan held his arms out in surrender in front of her. At least, she thought it was surrender. The bulging muscles of his biceps swelling against the cotton fabric of his shirt distracted her. British’s mouth went dry for a moment. “What?” Her voice cracked.
“I didn’t say anything,” he said with a grin. Damn it. He knew she was ogling him. “But if you all are competing at an event where the judges are gung ho on the holidays, maybe it would benefit you guys to come up with some ideas for the season.”
“OMG!” Kathleen shrieked. “I have been dying to code to a Christmas song. I’ve got all the equipment and lights already. When the song comes on, we can make the white lights match the singer, green lights for the chorus, and red lights if there’s like a drum solo. It will be so cool.”
“You need to do it to my favorite song,” said Natasha, turning to British and Donovan. “It’s old. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want for Christmas.’”
“I believe I have,” said Donovan. “How about you, Ms. B?”
“Once or twice.” British clapped her hands together. “All right, let’s thank Mr. Donovan and let him get on his way.”
