Samantha's Gift

Her mouth suddenly went dry. Heart pounding, she fought to catch her breath and compose herself in spite of the nervous fluttering in her stomach. She knew it was normal for people to feel a surge of adrenaline when they were startled the way she’d just been, but this was ridiculous. She was not one of those faint-of-heart women who swooned every time an attractive man looked her way.

And speaking of looking… The man’s chest, covered in a pale shirt and navy blazer, fell at her eye level. Following the line of his tie upward she saw a square jaw, firm mouth, hazel eyes—and an expression clearly filled with amusement.

She was too embarrassed to mirror his good humor. With a stubborn lift of her chin she did her best to appear unruffled as she asked, “Where did you come from?”

“Cleveland.” A half smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

“I meant just now,” Rachel told him. “I didn’t see a soul in the hall before you ran into me.”

“I ran into you?”

“Yes.” She tried unsuccessfully to pull away. When he continued to hold on to her, she asserted her independence clearly. “That’s enough. You can let go of me now.”

“Okay.”

The man released her so abruptly, she staggered and almost wound up sitting at his feet amid the spilled crayons. Wouldn’t that have been cute! As if being caught skipping wasn’t bad enough.

“I didn’t mean for you to throw me down,” she said.

“Make up your mind.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and struck a nonchalant pose.

Rachel studied his face and frowned, trying to place him. “Who are you, anyway?”

Watching the movement of her eyes, he must have guessed that she was casting around for something with which to write; he stooped and came up with a blue crayon and a piece of the drawing paper she’d dropped.

“I’m Sean Bates. But you don’t have to bother reporting me, ma’am. I work here.”

“You do?” She paused, crayon poised. “Since when? I didn’t see you at the in-service meetings last week.”

“That’s because I just moved from up north.”

“You really are from Cleveland? It wasn’t a joke?”

He laughed. “Not to me.”

So, this was the new school counselor she’d heard so much about. No wonder all the single women on staff were figuratively lining up to vie for his attention. He was not only good-looking, he had a charisma that was almost irresistible—to anyone but her, of course. She wasn’t susceptible to that kind of romantic insanity anymore.

Smiling up at him, Rachel said, “Well then, welcome to Serenity Elementary. If I can be of any assistance, please let me know.”

“Thanks. I do have one question.”

“Sure. Anything.”

“Okay. Why were you skipping down the hall like a kid?”

“Shh.” She blushed, looked around furtively. “You weren’t supposed to notice that.”

“It was kind of hard not to.”

“Then, why didn’t you get out of my way?”

“I tried. Guess I was so surprised, I didn’t move quite fast enough. Sorry.”

“Me, too.” Pulling a face, she lamented the supplies scattered at their feet, then gathered the hem of her skirt at her knees, holding it bunched in one hand so she could crouch down safely. “My poor crayons. They were brand new. I’ll bet half of them are broken.”

Sean squatted to help her gather up the spill. “Hey, these are those big fat crayons. I haven’t seen any of those since kindergarten.”

“Makes sense. That’s what I teach.”

“You’re a teacher?”

“Yes, I’m a teacher. Why?”

“No special reason. You don’t fit my memories of the teachers I had when I was a boy, that’s all.”

Rachel knew better than to acknowledge the backhanded compliment and open their conversation to more of his personal opinions. There was nothing he could say about her diminutive appearance that she hadn’t heard many times before.

She continued to stack paper, barely glancing at him. “Do you have children coming to our school, too, Mr. Bates?”

“No. No kids.”

The answer was simple. It was the off-putting tone that drew and held her attention. The man had sounded as if he didn’t even like children, which was a definite drawback since he was about to start a job where he’d be up to his elbows in them.

“You are the new counselor, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Silent, she studied his profile, trying to determine if she’d read him correctly. He looked to be about thirty or thirty-five, with reddish brown hair and compelling green eyes.

He raised them to meet hers. “What?”

“Nothing. I was just wondering what brought you to a little town like Serenity. Being from the city, you’re liable to have quite an adjustment to make.”

“I’ll cope. It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision.” Straightening with an armload of loose supplies, he changed the subject. “Lead the way to your room, Teacher. I’ll carry these for you.”

“I can manage by myself.”

“I know you can.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I just had a demonstration of how well. But I’ve already got this stuff balanced. If I try to hand it to you and you fumble it again, you’ll have even more busted crayons. Let’s go.”

That logic overcame Rachel’s misgivings. She gathered up the last of the paper and started off. “Okay. Come on. I’m in building A. You may as well start learning the layout of the campus. Where’s your office, anyway?”

“So far, I don’t have one.”

“I’m not surprised. We aren’t used to having a fulltime counselor on staff.”

“I’m not exactly full time. Not yet. I’ve told the boss I can fill in as a substitute bus driver, too, if they need me.”

Confused, she glanced back over her shoulder at him. “Bus driver? Why? I thought you were a psychologist.”