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Can’t think about that now. Can’t let the sight of him dredge up the hurt of the past. I’m a lot tougher than I used to be.
I was a pretty meek little mouse when Beau knew me. He tried to get me out of my shell with his loud laugh and laid-back nature. That almost worked. We might have been friends. Until everything fell apart.
Beau left our little town of Dauterive and became a big NFL star. Me? I became pregnant at 17 and never saw the inside of our high school again—not until I was hired as a teacher. Finishing high school, undergrad, and grad school, earning my teaching certificate--all the while raising a son on my own--might not be as glamorous or as high of an achievement as playing quarterback for the Cowboys, but it’s something.
If anything, he should be intimidated by me. Teaching high school English is not for the faint of heart.
When I step out of the principal’s office, I smack into a wall that was never there before.
“What the… Oh! Excuse me.”
Not a wall. I have collided with a linebacker. Good grief. My eyes travel upward and take in the view of a massively broad chest filling out the ugliest tweed jacket I’ve ever seen.
Above a pair of shoulders that stress the seams of his ridiculous outfit is the face I remember. It’s Beau, alright. Those are the same sharp eyes, now with the faintest hint of laugh lines at the corners. And instead of peach fuzz and acne—which never diminished his incredible handsomeness—a thick brown beard covers half his face.
But not even the beard can hide the shock in his expression.
“Mary Maleczech?”
“That’s me. And if it isn’t Dauterive’s living legend, Beau Fontaine.” My voice is stupidly high and raspy because my throat has dried up.
“What a coincidence,” he exclaims, smiling down at me.
“It’s good to see you,” I say, getting my voice back to normal. And I really mean that. He looks…really good. Even better if I ripped off that stupid blazer with my claws. Okay, Mary. Calm down. “Looks like we’ll be working together.”
“Cool!” Beau exclaims.
I fidget with the hem of my cotton knit top and smile. It feels forced, considering how suspect I am of his dedication to language arts, but I offer a smile anyway. And I don’t miss his eyes flicking down to my wrap-style neckline. Crap. Should have worn something to hide my cleavage. Wait, what am I saying? He’s a grown-up, and he can handle himself around boobs. Ahem, Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders come to mind.
“Looking forward to catching up with you. Shall we?” Beau offers me his arm.
I give him a stern look. “This isn’t a date. It’s orientation.” My eyes wander over his ugly jacket, equally ugly bow tie, and black-framed eyeglasses. It’s then that I notice the elbow patches.
My heart sinks. I know what this is. He’s dressing up in this ridiculous costume to mock the English department. Trying to look like a caricature of a professor.
Oh, brother. I do not have time for this nor patience for his over-the-top, friendly Ted Lasso impression. He is not a regular guy. At this school, he’s a spectacle, and he knows it.
He offers me his hand instead. “My mistake. It’s just great to see you.”
I’m not a complete ogre, so I take his hand. I’m not prepared for him to bring me in for a bear hug.
“Oh. Hey. Okay…we’re doing this.” My words are muffled in the tweedy chest. It's wool and itchy and smells faintly of mothballs. Behind that, though, is another scent that has my memory darting back to another time. A smell that is all boy and one hundred percent uniquely Beau.
I hate the fact that I’m enjoying this hug. Good thing it’s July, and the front office is still a ghost town. Otherwise, we’d have an audience.
As if right on cue, Patty exits her office. “Oh, I’m sorry. You two know each other?”
“I…uhm…”
Beau releases me from the hug but maintains contact with one big arm latched around my shoulder. “Old friends! What a surprise, huh? Mary used to tutor me here in high school!”
Patty looks at me with interest. “I thought you got your diploma in Oklahoma.”
My face turns deep red, and I’m thrown back to the memory of my last days as a student here. Patty doesn’t know any better; she transferred here from Nacogdoches.
“I did. I attended school here in Dauterive until halfway through senior year.”
“Yeah, she never came back after winter break that year. Word around town was she went away to prep school because little ol’ Dauterive didn’t have enough college credits she could take in advance,” Beau says, squeezing my shoulder.
