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So I shower off, dress light and casual, and head out, stopping by the mini-mart first for a few cleaning supplies.
Good thing I saved my summer tips from part-time shifts at Mom’s diner. You have no idea how many school supplies wind up coming out of teachers’ pockets.
It’s a short trip to the tree-shaded school. From the scattering of cars in the faculty lot, I guess a few other staff had the same idea.
I tie my hair up in a loose bun and head up the walk to unlock the main entrance.
When I get there, the door won’t budge.
Ugh.
I fit my key into the lock and twist hard, but the latch doesn’t slide a millimeter.
The whole thing feels jammed.
Frowning, I try it again.
Again.
God, what now?
Am I made of bad luck or is Redhaven just the Twilight Zone where nothing is ever predictable?
I wonder if Ulysses gave me the wrong key. Was there some mix-up when they copied it? Am I doing something wrong or—
“Here.”
A familiar voice growls over my shoulder—gruff, deep, drawling with that hint of sweet molasses—just as a looming shadow falls over me.
There’s no helping how my heart thumps as I turn, backing against the door.
It’s just nerves.
Everything in this town makes me jumpier than a grasshopper.
Totally nothing special about the sight of Lucas Graves standing over me, powerful and sleek in his uniform, this giant prowling beast with jade eyes and a rare hint of a lazy smile.
His gaze feels almost friendly and teasing, falling to the keys in my hand.
I just notice I’m clutching them defensively, their sharp edges bristling between my knuckles.
“Mind if I take those?” he asks, holding out his hand. “The door sticks. You gotta work it, jiggle it just right. Let me show you.”
My brain goes to horrible, innuendo-filled places.
I eye him before I reluctantly hand over the keys. “...what are you even doing here?”
What I really mean is, how did he conveniently happen to be right here, right when I needed him when I was trying so hard not to think about him?
“Before you even ask, no, I’m not following you.”
He flashes me a look that makes my face burn. It’s like he can read my mind.
He certainly stole a lifetime of dirty thoughts yesterday during that mortifying minute when my little toy was out in the open.
I’m still amazed I didn’t shrivel up and die.
And I’m more stunned he had the restraint and the courtesy not to go full raging jackass. The man saved his reputation and saved me from a little cell. I would’ve punched this cop without hesitation if he took his chance to humiliate me.
But he didn’t.
And that has me feeling more pleasantly uncertain about Lucas Graves than ever.
With a stifled grumble, I step aside so he can reach the door.
He fits the key to the lock too perfectly—and before he turns it, he grips the knob, lifting it sharply. He pulls it in with a little tug that makes the door rattle in the frame.
I watch the muscles in his forearm flex, straining all the way up to the cuffed sleeve of his sharply tailored navy-blue uniform shirt.
The door swings open a second later like it obeys his touch.
He releases the handle, then drops the keys into my outstretched palm.
“Way to show me up.” I try to sound playful so he doesn’t catch the admiration bristling behind my annoyed tone.
“It’s what I do, Miss New York. Just pull it in, lift, and you’re good to go,” he says. “And to answer your question, Captain Faircross sent me out here to talk to the principal. Somebody’s gotta handle crossing guard duty and school security for the coming year. We try to plan assignments around patrol shifts.”
A little pang strums my heart.
So, he wasn’t here for me.
Why isn’t that a bigger relief?
I curl the keys against my palm and narrow my eyes. “School security even here? I didn’t see any metal detectors.”
Shame.
So much for hoping I’d run far enough away from schools built like prisons. Metal detectors everywhere, wanding students down, mandatory drills preparing students for the worst, and everyone breathlessly praying it never happens.
Lucas gives me a long look as grave as his name. “We’re not quite there yet. If I have my way, we never will be.”
He steps inside then and waves goodbye.
Leaving me looking after him, watching the way his powerful frame moves with a certain swagger—and a certain awareness, too, I think.
Almost like he knows how to handle all two hundred pounds of muscle with poise, harnessing his power like the fine-tuned machine he is.
The hyperprotective edge in his words when he made that last comment about guarding the kids sends a shiver up my spine. I just have one question.
How big is a giant’s heart?
I am dirty, sweaty, and sore as hell.
But I’m also smiling until it hurts.
