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“Don’t worry, Michael, I’m just having you on.” Her baby cooed, and jammed her thumb in her mouth, and Mandy looked down, affection in her eyes. “I don’t play with men who don’t want to play. Where’s Shane today?”
“Grading homework.” Michael had offered to stand in for him. Come to think of it, the other man had seemed more relieved than the situation warranted. Perhaps Mandy was a frequent visitor. Shane did seem the type to appeal to a certain set of ladies.
“Well, tell him I’ll be here again tomorrow.” A little boy joined her, and she started rolling the stroller away. “Goodbye, Michael.”
She was leaving. Thank God. He glanced over to where Izzy lingered nearby. He wanted to speak with her, but didn’t want to cross any lines when it came to going behind Bex’s back. He bit his lip and willed her to approach. He assisted three children across the road, keeping his eye on her, and a few seconds later, she made her way to his side.
“Hi, Izzy,” he said as she closed the distance between them. “Are you waiting for your mum?”
She nodded, and raised her dark eyes to his. She had a pointed chin and mischievous smile that was all Bex, but the deep-set eyes and defined bone structure of her cheeks had come courtesy of Wesley. No doubt about it.
“Do you remember me from yoga this morning?” he asked.
Her teeth caught her lower lip and nibbled. “Mummy says not to talk to strangers.”
Of course she did. “I’m not a stranger. Don’t you remember me from assembly? I’m Principal Briggston.” He bent and offered her a hand, which she eyed cautiously for a long moment, then reached out and shook. She was so tiny. Delicate. He wasn’t a giant, but he was a big guy and Izzy was easily a couple of inches shorter than most of her peers. Strange, when both of her parents were taller than average. Maybe she’d prove to be a late bloomer.
Jesus, listen to him. He’d already decided Wesley was the kid’s dad.
“How was school today?”
She grinned, showing all of her miniature teeth, and the force of it almost knocked him backward. His heart gave an extra thud. Damn, but she was adorable. “I got to play hopscotch at lunch, and I beat Dawn.”
His lips curled. She was every bit as competitive as her mother. “Good work.”
She caught sight of something across the street and bounced to the edge of the road. “Mum is here!”
Reluctantly, he paused the traffic while she darted over to a white SUV and tossed her backpack in the rear seat. The driver’s door opened and a long, legging-clad leg emerged, followed by the mouthwateringly beautiful Bex Cane. Hands on hips, she glared at him. Then she raised two fingers in the universal gesture for “I’m watching you,” climbed back into her mum-mobile, and drove off. His heart jackhammered like crazy, adrenaline coursing through him. Nothing was as exhilarating as an encounter with Bex. In fact, he already wanted to see her again, and that meant he was in trouble. Lots of it.
On Friday,Michael was sitting at reception, minding the desk while the receptionist dashed home to grab the lunch she’d forgotten, when a trio of girls rushed in the door—the two on the edges supporting the one in the middle, who had a bloody knee. He shot to his feet and strode around the desk.
“What happened here?”
The girl with the bloody knee winced as they stopped moving, and the freckles across her nose stood out against pale skin.
“I fell over.”
“Good thinking to come here. Let’s get you into the sick bay.” He ushered the girls into the small room that came off the foyer. “We’ll have you patched up in no time.” This wasn’t the first grazed knee he’d handled in his time.
“What’s your name?” he asked as she sat on the bed and he searched the cabinet for a first aid kit.
“Dawn.” Her tone was tense, and when he turned back, her eyes welled with tears.
“I’m Mr. Briggston. This might sting for a moment, Dawn.” Gently, he cleaned her cut with an antiseptic wipe, and she hissed in pain but didn’t cry. “It’s not too deep,” he told her. “Let’s get a Band-Aid on it, shall we?”
He chose the largest one in the kit and peeled off the edges. She held her breath while he eased it into place. “There. All better.”
“It doesn’t feel better,” she whined. “It hurts.”
His lips pressed together. “Why don’t you and your friends sit here for ten minutes until it does?”
“Okay.” She brightened, and finally he glanced at her companions, then jolted with recognition. A pair of dark brown eyes watched him warily.
“Izzy, right?” he asked, as though he hadn’t spent hours obsessing over the possibility of her being his niece.
“Yeah.” She smiled impishly, and gestured to her black-haired friend. “This is Lian.”
Michael sank onto the chair opposite the bed the three girls were squished onto, the opportunity too good to ignore. Both Lian and Izzy smiled at him.
