Bonnie and Betsy ran up to her, hugging so hard around her waist that Josie nearly toppled over.
“Did you see what our daddy brought?”
“I sure did…” And we’re going to have a nice, long talk about it. “Are those your ponies?”
“Uh-huh,” Betsy said with a vigorous nod. “Mine is named Cookie because she has chocolate chip spots.”
“Mine’s Cinderella,” Bonnie noted. “Just like the princess because she has long, blond hairs.”
“Those are wonderful names.” Josie was glad she’d worn capris and sneakers as the lawn she marched across was still dew-soaked. “You two were clever to match them so well to each pony.”
“Thanks!” both girls said, skipping alongside her.
Before dashing ahead, Betsy shouted to her sister, “Come on, Cinderella pooped!”
Giggles abounded.
Thank goodness the older kids were already in class or off-color bathroom jokes would already be spreading. When it came to potty humor, fifth and sixth graders were experts.
“I’ve got a man here to clean all of this.” Josie had been so focused on what she’d say to Dallas that she hadn’t noticed he’d come up beside her.
Hand to her chest, she said, “You startled me.”
“Sorry.” Nodding toward the shrieking kids, he added, “I knew the ponies would be a hit, but I didn’t expect a riot.”
“When it comes to kindergarteners, it doesn’t take much.”
“I’m seeing.” His smile rocketed through her. Despite his many faults, he was undeniably handsome. Never more so than now. It was clear he belonged outside. The sun lightening his Buckhorn-blue eyes. Glancing over his shoulder, he signaled to an older man who knelt alongside Bonnie, helping her with her pet.
“Yeah, boss?” The man’s easy smile, laugh lines at the corners of brown eyes and weathered skin had Josie guessing him to be in his mid-fifties. His playful spirit around the kids made him seem much younger. Like Dallas, he wore Western wear complete with a cowboy hat.
“Josie Griffin, meet Henry Pohl. He’s worked our ranch longer than I’ve been alive.”
Shaking Josie’s hand, the man winked. “I wouldn’t say it was that long. You are getting a tad long in the tooth.”
In under twenty minutes, Dallas was true to his word and had begun loading the ponies into a custom, miniaturized horse trailer attached to a shiny black pick-up. The Buckhorn Ranch emblem of two battling rams had been stenciled on both doors.
While settling the children into their daily routine of standing for the Pledge of Allegiance, stilling for a moment of silence and then getting out their printing paper to practice writing their new letter and number, she watched Dallas through the wall of windows overlooking the school’s front lawn.
Firmly, yet gently, he corralled the suddenly stubborn animals into their temporary home. With Henry’s help, Dallas soon had all of the cupcake liners and white bakery boxes in the trash, leaving the area looking untouched save for sneaker tracks trailing through silvery dew.
Josie’s students fidgeted and fussed. Too hyper from cupcakes and fun to want to settle into their routine. The childlike part of her she didn’t often let escape sympathized with them. Outside, it was shaping up to be a beautiful fall day. She had dreaded Dallas’s visit, but was now surprised to be anticipating his return to the room.
“YOU DO KNOW YOUR CIRCUS broke about sixteen school rules?”
Dallas took another bite of his ham and swiss sandwich and shrugged. “Way I see it, my girls need to know I’m not here to punish them. I want them and their friends to be happy I’m in for a visit.”
Josie Griffin pressed her full lips together like there was a whole lot she wanted to say, but was holding back.
“Out with it,” he coaxed, biting into a pear. It was the first one he’d had in a while. Firm, yet juicy and sweet. Kind of like he’d imagine kissing Josie would be—that is, if she’d ever erase her pucker. Not that he’d done a whole lot of thinking about kissing the teacher, but cute as she was, he wouldn’t have been normal if the notion hadn’t at least crossed his mind.
For the twenty minutes while the kids were at recess, Josie had suggested they hang out in the teachers’ lounge. The room was unremarkable save for a pleasantly efficient window air-conditioning unit and grown-up chairs. Dallas hadn’t realized how many muscles in his back could possibly ache until he’d spent his morning pretzelled into munchkin chairs.
“Since you asked…” Her eyes narrowed. Was she fixing to yell at him again? “I didn’t invite you here to throw a party, but observe your daughters in their daily setting. My hope is that they’ll soon grow comfortable enough with you being in their surroundings to revert back to their usual naughty behavior.”
“Whoa. What you’re essentially saying is that you’ve set a trap you hope they spring?”
She at least had the good graces to flush. “I would hardly call a long acknowledged child psychiatry technique a trap. More like a tool. I can sit here telling you about the girls’ sins until I run out of breath, but that still won’t make you a believer. I want you to catch them in action. Only then will you understand how disruptive their pranks are to my class.”
“And if they turn out to be the good kids I expect them to be?”
She damn near choked on a carrot stick. “Not that I’m a betting woman, but if I were, I’d put down a hundred on Bonnie and Betsy finding some form of trouble by the end of the day.”
“You say that with such glee,” he noted, wadding up his trash. “Like you want my daughters in hot water.”
“Far from it. They need to understand that school is for learning, not horseplay. But wait—with this morning’s stunt, you’ve pretty much blown that lesson out of the water.”
“For the record—” he eased his legs out in front of him to cross at the ankles “—Cookie and Cinderella aren’t horses, but ponies.”
JOSIE WAS BEYOND MORTIFIED when Thursday morning had come and gone and still the twins hadn’t so much as dropped a pencil shaving. Had she been wrong about them? Overexaggerated their penchant for mischief?
“Hungry?” Dallas asked as twenty-one squirming bodies raced for the door.
“I am,” she said, motioning for the line leaders to guide them to the hand-washing station. “It’s fried chicken day. Want to brave the cafeteria?”
“Is it safe?”
She laughed. “On turkey tetrazzini day,” she wrinkled her nose, “not so much, but you’re actually in for a treat. Mashed potatoes and white gravy with big yeast rolls. If we’re really lucky, chocolate cake for dessert.”
“I’m in.” His white-toothed grin was made brighter by faint golden stubble. Not enough time to shave before beating the first bell?
After
