Forever with You

He’d already fixed a slide in place by the time Leslie arrived at the piece of equipment.

“This is water that I scooped up from Ponderosa Pond.” He motioned for her to look into the eyepiece, his eyes brightening with the enthusiasm she so often witnessed when she volunteered in his class. He was such a science geek. Lord, help her, but it only enhanced his sexiness.

“Don’t expect Cassidy to go swimming in it anytime soon,” he added with a chuckle. “All the kids were horrified.”

Leslie lowered her right eye to the eyepiece and grimaced. “I don’t blame them. I don’t swim, but if I did I wouldn’t swim in there, either.”

“Why don’t you swim?” he asked.

She looked up and realized just how close he was standing to her. Only inches separated them.

Breathe, girl.

She shook her head. “I just...don’t like it. I grew up in the city. I never learned how to swim.”

“You should learn.” Had his voice dropped an octave? “You might find that you enjoy it.”

Yes. Yes, it had.

Standing this close, her eyes were drawn back to the attractive way his upper lip dipped in the center. Leslie ordered herself to look away, but then his tongue swept out, glided over his lips, and looking away became next to impossible. She was momentarily mesmerized by the smooth, glistening skin. When she finally drew her eyes back to his, they no longer bore the trace of humor they’d held the first time he caught her staring. This time his gaze was measured, potent and concentrated directly on her.

“You’re standing really close,” Leslie said.

He nodded. “I realize that.”

“Mr. Franklin—”

“You can call me Gabriel, you know,” he said, the pitch of his voice still on the husky side. “We’re at school, but technically it’s after hours.”

Leslie swallowed. Then she swallowed again.

“I...I, uh.” She slipped away from the microscope and took several steps back. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”

Appropriate? What was she? Her mother?

Taking yet another step back, Leslie asked, “Can we get back to discussing Cassidy?”

Tilting his head to the side, he rubbed the back of his neck and let out a deep breath. When his gaze returned to her, disappointment was evident in his brown eyes.

“You’re right. I apologize if you found anything I said inappropriate, Mrs. Kirkland.”

Mrs.

Great. Now she really felt like her mother.

“I didn’t mean to—” Leslie started, but he held his hand up, staving off further comment.

“No, you were right. We’re here to talk about Cassidy.” He expelled another deep breath and continued, “As I was saying earlier, for the most part Cassidy is doing great in class. I do, however, have a couple of issues I wanted to discuss with you.” He held up one finger. “Give me just a moment.”

Leslie remained at the rear of the classroom while he dashed to the front. She used the brief respite to regain control of her own breathing and to remind herself yet again why it was just plain wrong to nurture any improper feelings toward her daughter’s very young science teacher.

A very young science teacher who had asked her to call him by his first name.

Gabriel—Mr. Franklin. Mr. Franklin—returned with a set of manila folders. He flattened one open on the counter.

“As you can see by her quiz scores, Cassidy has definitely grasped the concepts. Her explanations are thorough and well thought out.” The prideful smirk that crossed Leslie’s lips died a swift death when he continued, “But lately she has displayed an unsettling behavior that is all too common, especially at this age.”

“What type of behavior?”

“Cassidy tends to rush through her work so that she can be the first to finish, and she sometimes misses things. Back when I was in school, teachers would reward the kids who finished early, but they don’t do that anymore because it’s obvious how it can backfire. But many students, especially the competitive ones, still see it as a race.”

“Competitive. Yes, well, even though the middle name on her birth certificate is Elizabeth, I think Cass believes it’s actually Competition. You should see her on the softball field.”

“I can only imagine,” he said with a laugh.

His deep chuckle triggered those inappropriate tingles, and suddenly all Leslie could think about was the need to speed up this meeting. She had to put some distance between herself and Gabriel.

Mr. Franklin.

“Cass and I will have a discussion on the importance of taking her time in class,” Leslie assured him. “You said you had a couple of issues? What’s the second?”

“Homework assignments,” he said. “They’re not always complete. When I asked Cassidy about it, she said that she tries to get her work done but doesn’t always have help.”

Shock sent Leslie’s brows shooting upward. “I can’t believe she said that. Cassidy knows that I’m there to help her with homework. We’re sometimes up until after nine o’clock working on her assignments.”

He put both hands up. “You don’t have to convince me,” he said. “You’re one of the most engaged parents I’ve met since I started teaching here, but you’re also a single, working parent. You can’t devote all your time to making sure Cassidy does her homework, and you shouldn’t have to. She’s nine years old. This is the age when she should start becoming accountable for her work.” His brow dipped in a frown. “I hope I didn’t offend you with that.”

“With what?”

“Saying that you’re a single, working parent.”

Leslie let out a soft laugh. “I am a single, working parent,” she pointed out. “And while it certainly isn’t a walk in the park, it’s my job. If Cassidy is having problems completing her assignments, I want to know about it so I can figure out a solution.”

“I may have a solution,” he said. “Well, not necessarily a solution, but something that can lighten the load.” He retrieved another manila folder from the set he’d brought with him. “As one of my best volunteers and the president of the PTO, I want to know what you think about it.”

Leslie moved in closer, but made sure not to stand too close. She could not handle the nearness right now.

“I’ve proposed a new afternoon homework help program in conjunction with Gauthier High School,” he began. “The high school students need to earn community service hours, and it would also be a big help to working parents.”

“Tutoring?” Leslie asked as she scanned the flyer advertising the program.

“Not exactly,” he said. “If the high school student notices that the kid they’re trying to help just isn’t grasping the information, they can alert the teacher and we can get the student the proper tutoring they need. This program will be strictly homework help. Like I said, it’s meant to lighten the load for parents.”