nose. “We won’t be late now. Come on.” Hand in hand they stepped between the barren rose bushes and headed for the grumbling diesel truck.
Jon leaned across the seat and shoved open the door. “Give me your bag, Bo Peep.”
A timid smile crept along Emily’s mouth. In that instant, Rianne forgot her woman’s right to independence. A warmth spread from her heart outward. Jon Tucker, man of few words, had baited a smile from her little girl.
A precious, rare smile.
Emily climbed onto the high seat. While Jon strapped her in, Rianne climbed beside her. Why hadn’t she chosen slacks today or one of her loose, ankle-length skirts? No, silly woman that she was, she’d selected her favorite: black, slim and short.
The truck smelled of tools. And Jon. Over Emily’s head, Rianne caught his regard—flame-blue and intense. Her heart pinged. She faced the windshield and worked on her seat belt.
Calm down.
Five minutes of speed and silence got them to Chinook Elementary. He parked near the entrance. Children hung in clusters up and down the sidewalk. Across the playground smaller ones dashed between older students, chasing balls, playing tag. A group of boys, a few years younger than Sam, rough-housed near the gym exit.
Rianne climbed from the cab. Emily slid to the ground with a “’Bye, Mom” and drifted toward some girls skipping rope.
Jon rounded the nose of the idling truck. “Got a minute?” His gaze lingered on the skin below her hemline.
She looked toward the school doors. “If it’s quick.”
“What time are you finished?”
“I’ll get one of my colleagues to drive us home.”
“What time?”
Another take-charge man.
He’s different.
How so?
She relented. “Three, but I usually don’t get out of here until four.”
“Your daughter stays with you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be here at four.” He started for the driver’s side.
She went after him. “It’s not necessary. We can get home on our own.”
He stepped from the curb. Even with the added height of the sidewalk, she still had to tilt her head.
“It’s not a contest, Rianne. I’d like to pick you up after school, okay?”
His quiet “like” did it, had her tongue powerless. “Fine.”
A softness she hadn’t seen before touched his eyes. “See you then,” he said.
Without another word she walked into the school. She would not watch him drive away. Not with this warmth in her cheeks.
The day crawled. Although four different classes came into the library throughout the morning, the clock was glued to one spot for endless, interminable minutes at a time.
Midmorning she made a call to the Garage Center and requested an attendant put a new battery in her car. The house call would be an added expense but she’d manage it.
Shortly after one she received a call that her battery had been looked after—not by the attendant. By a neighbor.
She didn’t need to ask which neighbor.
The rest of the afternoon Rianne fumed.
At quarter to four, she looked through the library’s tall, wide windows. Luckily, the room took up the better portion of one corner facing the street, where she could watch who entered the grounds and who parked along the curb.
Jon arrived at five to the hour, stopping the pickup exactly where he’d dropped her off. Rianne held her breath. Would he come into the building?
He elected to wait outside his truck, leaning against it the way he had for Seth over at the high school twenty-two years ago. Long, strong legs braced, hiney affixed to the front fender, arms folded over that chest. Dark glasses masking those blue, blue eyes.
Tingles clustered deep in her belly.
Pull yourself together. The last thing you need is another man in your life—especially one who’s used to taking charge.
But he’s a good man, one you’ve never forgotten.
He’s also changed.
She didn’t know if she liked the change. Unfortunately, no matter what she told herself while she typed up a staff memo about new book arrivals, her breathing quickened and her palms dampened. Finished, she stuck the memo in tomorrow’s agenda and rose from her chair.
“Ready?” she called to Emily who was seated at a work center.
Pushing at her glasses, her daughter tossed several pencil crayons into a shoe box. “Are we riding with that guy again?”
“Mr. Tucker, Em. He does have a name.”
No comment. Emily set the shoe box on a shelf Rianne had designated specifically for student accessories. “Do you like my science title page?” her daughter asked.
Beth Baker, Em’s third-grade teacher, was doing a unit on the water cycle. Studying Emily’s work—a wreathed shape of earth, water and sky in various co-existing forms—Rianne smiled. “Great stuff, Em. Did you think this—” she traced the circle “—up yourself?”
“Uh-huh. I still have to color the rivers and lakes. See?”
“Yes, I see, and the sky, too. And the border. Don’t want any white space left.”
“No, and Mrs. Baker said we can hand it in soon’s we’re all done with the unit.” The picture went carefully into a Duotang.
Rianne shut off the library’s lights. “Let’s go home, love.”
The moment they stepped through the entrance doors, Jon came away from the truck in an expeditious move.
“Hi,” he said, voice low, quiet. The sunglasses went into a shirt pocket.
Catching his look, Rianne had the odd feeling that, conditions permitting, he might have set an intimate hand at the back of her waist. But then, he was opening the door, taking Emily’s bag. “Hey, Bo Peep. How was your day?”
“Fine.”
“No nasty ole boys snitchin’ a kiss or two?”
A tiny giggle erupted. “No-ooo! That’s yucky.”
“Good,” he said. He took Rianne’s bag as well and set both on the floorboard of the crew cab. “Wouldn’t want you running off and getting married.”
“Mr.
