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“Did Roman get to his photos yet?” Mr. Broom asked.
“No, we were going to work on them next.”
“Very well.” He touched the edge of one of Roman’s photos from last week’s assignment. “He’s very talented.”
“He is,” I agreed.
Mr. Broom’s gaze strayed to the open door, and he almost seemed troubled. My stomach clenched in fear. Did he know what Roman and I were doing before he came in here? Could he smell it? Was I blushing?
“Your friendship seems to be a good influence on him, Juliet.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. The kids I’ve seen from Pine Bluff…” his voice trailed off for a moment. “They don’t receive a lot of encouragement. Half the time, they drop out or end up in jail.”
I wasn’t sure what to say besides, “That’s awful.”
“It really is. It’s unfair. They’re not given the same chance most of the kids here are.” He blew out an annoyed breath. “Even some of my co-workers don’t want kids in the system here.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I shouldn’t be discussing this with you. Forget I said anything.”
“Okay, Mr. Broom.”
He glanced at the clock. “You two should probably wrap up for the day. I’m sure Mr. Hawkins has to—”
“I have to be back by four,” Roman interrupted, coming inside.
“Ah, very good. You probably have time to develop one more set. I’ll let you get to it,” Mr. Broom nodded at both of us before backing out of the room.
Shaking his head, Roman gave me a half-smile. “You okay?” he asked in a low voice.
I nodded slowly. The fear and tension from Mr. Broom almost walking in on us overshadowed all the amazing feelings Roman had given me earlier.
“Are you?” I asked. He seemed like he was in pain right before Mr. Broom’s interruption.
I swear Roman blushed. His gaze strayed to the side. “I, uh, haven’t had an accident like that since…well, never.”
Accident? I wasn’t sure what he meant. Well, I had some idea. My own cheeks turned hot and I looked away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He picked up my hand and pressed it against his chest. “Feel that? My heart’s still racing.” He swooped in closer for a kiss. “It was amazing. Thank you.”
My heart responded with its own quickstep. Feeling bold, daring, sexy even, I raised up on my tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “I think my panties are ruined.”
He groaned in response. “What are you trying to do to me, woman?”
Woman. I liked the way that sounded coming from his lips. I certainly felt womanly around him. But I also knew we had work to do, and I wanted him to get home on time so that I could see him again tomorrow.
Selfish, but I couldn’t bear him getting into trouble because of me.
“Come on, we need to finish your photos.” Another streak of boldness forced me to add, “If you do a good job, I’ll let you see how damp you made my panties.”
“Jesus, you’re killing me,” he grumbled but got to work.
Roman
The photos turned out pretty damn good and I’m not usually one to compliment my own work. We hurried to clean up and put everything away before leaving school.
Juliet danced ahead of me as we walked toward the park. “I wish I could take you out to celebrate.” The wistful catch in her tone pierced my chest.
Every day it got harder and harder to say goodbye to her after school. The weekends were torture because I couldn’t see her at all. Sometimes I’d sneak in a phone call or two. Most of the time I spent writing letters that I’d hand her Monday morning.
“Oh, look at all the daisies!” She took off running toward an open field in the park.
Damn she was cute. Excited over a bunch of raggedy-looking white and yellow flowers. I helped her pluck daisies until she had a decent-sized bunch.
As she stood there smiling at the flowers a large yellow and blue butterfly fluttered between us and landed on her hand.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Look!”
“I see him.” As carefully as possible, I slipped her cell phone out of her backpack to grab a picture. “Don’t move.”
The pretty creature sat still long enough for me to take two pictures. One close-up of him on her hand and one of her staring down at him.
Then the breeze picked up again and he floated away.
“Wow. That’s never happened to me before. I used to pick daisies with my mom when I was little.” Her face fell. “They’re my favorite. My mom wore them in her hair on her wedding day. I always wanted to—”
“What?”
She blushed and looked away. “Nothing.”
“What?”
The pink on her cheeks spread to the tips of her ears and down her neck. I think I knew what she was going to say. I even guessed why she was hesitant to tell me. But I wanted to hear the words from her mouth.
