Snow Days (The Hope Falls Series) Page 3

  What if the administration found it? What if the janitor found it? What if a student found it?

  She had to find it. She. Had. To. Find. It.

  Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth slowly, she mentally retraced her steps. She’d had her bag this morning at her desk. She’d had it at lunch, which she’d spent here in the lounge. She’d had it this afternoon when she’d met the new history teacher, Mr. Kellan.

  Oh, boy, Mr. Kellan. A shiver ran down her spine at just the thought of him.

  Wait! That’s it! She’d stuffed it under the desk when Principal Walters had come in to introduce her to the newest addition to the staff whom she would be sharing her prep period with.

  It had to still be there.

  Not wasting a second, she flew out of the door. Her feet squeaked on the polished tile floor of the hall as she power-walked, double-timing it to get to her homeroom. Her body tensed as a loud slam sounded behind her from the heavy door to the teachers’ lounge. You had to hold that sucker until it shut or it shook the entire floor.

  Thank God the halls were deserted. It was well past the time that all the teachers had gone home from in-service day. She would have been on her way as well—if she hadn’t gotten stuck with Mrs. Coolidge discussing the decline of youth since the invention of the internet. That woman did have a tendency to go on and on and on and on.

  Amy didn’t mind spending time with her, unlike the rest of the staff. She knew that she was lonely since Mr. Coolidge had passed away last spring. Amy felt like it was the least she could do. She understood what it felt like to be lonely.

  Moving quickly down the hall to her room Amy tried to block out that little voice in her head that was screaming, Why did you bring such sensitive material to school?

  She was a smart girl. She should have known better. She’d justified it by saying that it was only an in-service day. What in the world had she been thinking?

  She hadn’t been—that was the problem. Since embarking on this project, she found that the entire process of self-discovery had kind of taken over her life. She was consumed by it. Completely. And now she might have put her job at risk. Some of the material in those notebooks, especially the data she’d collected from her interviews, was graphic.

  Damn.

  Holding on to the glimmer of hope that her bag would be sitting safely under her desk, she took a deep, fortifying breath as she turned the cold metal handle and pushed the heavy door open. Stepping inside, she rushed towards her desk. Looking up as she reached her destination, she was stopped cold in her tracks.

  She stopped breathing. Her stomach dropped to the floor. Her blood ran cold.

  This can’t be happening.

  The new teacher. The new, ridiculously good-looking teacher. The new, ridiculously good-looking married teacher was sitting at her—their—desk with her notebooks scattered about. Wide open. In front of God and everyone.

  “Is everything okay, Ms. Maguire?” Mr. Kellan asked, his gorgeous sea green eyes widening with concern.

  Calm. She had to stay calm. Maybe he hadn’t read any of her research. Maybe there was another explanation for them being displayed on the desktop. Clearing her throat to steady her voice, she said, “You can call me Amy. Mr. Kellan—”

  “Please, call me Matt.” A disarming smile appeared on his sun-kissed face, showcasing a deep dimple in his right cheek.

  A dimple. Amy had to stop herself from swooning.

  Shaking her head slightly to clear it, she decided that the best course of action was to get in and out of there. No reason to prolong her embarrassment. She had no idea what he had read and it really didn’t matter. She was here to grab her things—no need to make a big deal about it. “Matt, I just forgot my bag and was coming back to get it.”

  She began quickly closing the notebooks as she collected them. She moved around the desk to grab her bag so she wouldn’t be awkwardly balancing fifteen notebooks in her arms. Matt stood slowly with ease to move out of her way, and that’s when it happened. She smelled him.

  Not able to stop herself, Amy took in a deep breath through her nose. He had a unique scent of Irish Spring soap, fabric softener, a hint olive oil, and well…just man. He smelled utterly, deliciously male, causing a rampage of flitter flutters deep in her belly.

  When she realized that she had just frozen as she lusted after his scent, her eyes flew up to his. He was staring down at her in what looked like disbelief. She started to think that maybe she should apologize for her inappropriate thoughts, considering that he was a married man. But that was ridiculous. There was no way he knew what she thought. He wasn’t a mind reader.

  He also wasn’t moving so she couldn’t reach her bag. Scooting around him seemed dangerous since her body seemed to be having a very strong reaction to him. “Excuse me,” she said as she reached her arm out and pressed her body even closer to the desk in an effort to avoid any actual physical contact.

  He remained still. She wasn’t sure what to do. She felt sort of stuck. If she moved at all, she might accidently brush up against him.

  Finally, motioning to the stack of notebooks she held in her right arm, he asked, “Are those yours?”

  Amy felt her throat begin to close as her palms grew damp. She had always been a fiercely private person, and these notebooks held information more personal than any diary or journal she’d had growing up. And she’d kept those in a locked safe. With two older brothers and a little sister, she hadn’t had much choice.

  Knowing that this man she’d just met today and would have to see every day when they shared a prep period had seen the contents made her a little dizzy with anxiety. But this was as good an opportunity as she might ever get to assert herself and own her actions. Which, coincidentally, were two things she’d been trying to improve on in her project.

  “Yes.” Her voice was thankfully coming out much stronger than she actually felt. “They are.”

  His perfect dark brows knitted together as he took a step back. “For what class?”

  “They aren’t for a class. They’re personal.” Amy used the space he’d created when he’d been taken aback—literally—to turn and gather her things.

  “Oh.” He exhaled a short breath before explaining. “I kicked the bag under the desk and they all came tumbling out. When I picked one up, well, what I saw caught my attention, and then I admit I was curious so I looked through a few. But there were no names. I had no idea it was your bag, your notebooks. I’m sorry,” he apologized.

  “It’s fine,” Amy replied. She was so glad that her back was to him since she would bet her last dollar that her face was as bright red as Rudolf’s nose.

  After returning all of her materials safely to her satchel, she pulled the wide straps up on her shoulder and began moving to the door, not looking back. “Have a nice night. And, um, welcome to Hope Falls High.”

  “Amy.”

  Her name on his lips caused the flitter flutters she’d been feeling to turn into a heavy pulse.

  Uh oh.

  She needed to get out of there. Now. But she couldn’t be rude just because she was beyond humiliated and inappropriately attracted to her new, married colleague.

  Standing up a little straighter and gathering the last bit of her dignity, she turned on her heels to face him. “Yes?”

  “Can I ask you something?” His voice was calm and even, but the look in his eye sent Amy’s heart racing like wild horses.

  “Of course.” Her voice was not sounding quite as strong as it had a few moments before.

  “What are you doing with all of that?” His tone held not one inkling of judgment in it—only curiosity.

  “It’s a project I’m working on.” Why, oh why, had she believed honesty was the best policy?

  He again motioned to her bag. “So those are interviews you’ve conducted?”

  Her hands tightened around the cloth straps. She couldn’t believe another human being had seen her work. It was private. Personal. Swallo
wing hard and trying not to let the tornado of panic she felt growing inside get out of hand, she simply answered honestly—of course! “Yes.”

  “Are you only interviewing women?”

  “So far, all of my interview subjects have been women.”

  “Is it a controlled case study?”

  Amy’s fingers relaxed from their tight fisted grip and she let out a forced laugh. “Not really. It’s just that the only guys I know to ask would be my friends’ significant others or my brothers—none of which I really want to interview.”

  “What about me?” Matt’s eyes sparked with interest, and Amy felt her fingers once again contract as tension rippled through her.

  “I don’t think, um… Don’t you… Shouldn’t you ask your wife before agreeing to—“

  “I’m not married…anymore.” Matt’s expression fell and his eyes cast down as he turned his wedding ring in a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m a widow. I lost my wife five years ago in a car accident.”

  “Oh.” Amy felt like all of the air in the room had just been sucked out. She was completely at a loss as to what to say but wanted to say something. “I’m sure you always hear this but I am so sorry for your loss. I can’t even begin to imagine…”

  “Thank you.”

  His emerald green eyes lifted to hers, and the raw pain she saw there broke her heart into a million pieces.

  “So can I participate in your study?” he asked.

  “What?” Confusion swam in Amy’s head.

  “Would you like to interview me?”

  She searched his eyes to see if he was serious. He had to be. Why would he joke about this? But why would a man she’d just met want to do this?

  As if reading her mind, he shrugged. “The data you’re collecting looks interesting, and it might be a nice distraction.”

  Oh, okay. That made sense. She reached up and touched the bridge of her nose, forgetting that she no longer wore glasses thanks to her Lasik eye surgery two months ago—yet another part of her project. Shifting her weight as she pulled her bag up higher on her shoulder, she looked down at the floor and answered, “Sure. Just let me know what a good time for you would be.”

  “How about now?”

  “Now?” Her pulse raced and her eyes flew up.

  His mouth tilted into a crooked smile and that dang dimple made another appearance. “Unless you’re busy.”

  Her hands began to shake and her stomach felt like it had the one and only time she’d gone on a roller coaster. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her rioting nerves. She could do this. It was just another interview. And a male point of view would be very helpful.

  An unmarried male point of view.

  “Now’s fine.” She quickly moved to take a seat at one of the student’s desks but Matt stopped her.

  “Sit here, please.” He pulled out the chair behind the desk, drawing her attention to his muscled forearms. Matt was wearing a black V-neck sweater with the sleeves rolled up, and Amy had a hard time not drooling over the sculpted perfection of his masculine arms.

  As she passed by him, her arm brushed against his. Feeling the hair on his chiseled forearm sent a chill dancing through her. Then, as she sat down on her ergonomic chair, she once again smelled his intoxicating scent, causing her body to hum as Matt moved to the other side of the desk. A little voice piped up—or screamed—in her head, He’s not married!

  Deciding to ignore her body’s reactions and inner voice, she pulled out her last blank notebook from her bag and opened it.

  This is just another interview, she reminded herself.

  “What do you find sexy?” she asked, looking down at the lined paper while holding the pen in her hand, waiting to record his response. After a few moments, she looked up to see if the question had offended him or if he was just too uncomfortable to answer.

  Her mouth went dry when she saw Matt’s stare fixed on her, his lips tilting into a slight grin, and not one but two deep dimples embedded in his cheeks.

  Oh boy.

  --- ~ ---

  What did he find sexy? Hmm.

  Right now, all he could think was that Amy sure was sexy as hell. Not that he was going to tell her that. He wasn’t completely sure how he felt about it. When he’d moved to Hope Falls, he had been hoping to start living again. But never, not even for a second, had he considered feeling this sort of intense attraction as a part of his definition of ‘living.’

  Amy’s beautiful blue eyes grew large as she waited patiently for his response. He watched the slope of her neck as she swallowed hard. Then he noticed the pink of her tongue peek out between the seam of her lips as she ran it from one corner to the other. He knew it was probably just a nervous habit she had, but it certainly screamed sexy to him.

  Matt was aware that, since he’d asked to be interviewed, even pushed the issue, he would actually need to answer the questions. Clearing his throat, he tried to push down and ignore his reaction to Amy and just focus on her interview. He wasn’t sure if she was conducting this research for a book or some other reason, but he was sure that she took it very seriously. Her notes were detailed.

  “Are you asking for purely physical attributes or in general?”

  “Either.” Amy’s voice was slightly shaky, and she swallowed hard. Again. She sat perfectly still, pen in hand, pressed to her notebook paper, ready to record his answers.

  “Well, physically I would say that I have always been drawn to eyes. I know that it’s cliché to say that they are the windows to the soul, but I feel like there really is some truth to that.” He paused, not knowing how far he should take the physical description of what he found sexy.

  He decided the only way he would know what kind of information she wanted was to ask.

  “How candid would you like me to be?”

  “Totally,” she immediately replied.

  Matt felt a small grin tug at the corner of his lips at her eager response. He closed his eyes for a moment and really put some thought into what she was asking him. As his eyelids lifted, his stare locked with hers and he began again. “I love the curve of a woman’s spine on her lower back. Not just visually, but also how it feels beneath my fingertips when I run my hand from the base of the neck down the spine and all the way to the dip right before the tailbone.”

  “Hmm.” The soft hum that escaped from Amy’s mouth seemed to take her by surprise. Her eyes widened before they flew down to her notebook as her pen sped across the page.

  Matt could hear the timbre in his voice dropping as he continued. “I love the slope of a woman’s neck. The flair of her hips. And lips. I love soft, full lips.”

  His eyes were drawn to Amy’s chest as it rose and fell at an increasing pace beneath her baby blue cardigan. He saw that her nipples had hardened and were straining against the knitted material. The sight made him want to reach out and start at the top of her sweater, undo each button slowly…

  “How about non-physical attributes?” Her voice came out in a breath.

  Matt leaned forward, trying to get back on track. He wasn’t usually this easily distracted. “Sounds. Yeah, I would have to say sounds. I love the sound of a woman’s laugh, sigh, gasp, and breath. And confidence. I’ve always been attracted to a woman who knows herself and what she wants. Also, a sense of humor. Life can be hard, when you can laugh, it makes things a whole lot easier.”

  Amy nodded as she wrote. As she tilted her head to the side, he saw a small pink tint of a blush rise up on her cheeks. “How old were you when you had your first sexual encounter?”

  “Sixteen,” he answered. Images of the night started rolling through his head like a ticker tape. He hadn’t thought about that night in…he couldn’t remember how long.

  “Was it a satisfying experience?” Amy’s eyes peeked up from underneath her long, inky lashes.

  Matt let out a forced laugh, remembering that it was over almost before it had begun. He hadn’t lasted more than a few pumps. “For me it was. I don�
�t think Jess would be able to say the same.”

  “Jess?”

  “Jess.” Matt rolled the smooth golden band on his left hand. “Jessica was my wife. We met freshman year of high school and started dating our sophomore year.”

  After a moment, Matt realized that his mind had gone blank as he zoned out, just watching his fingers move the ring around and around. When he looked up, his eyes met Amy’s and she asked, “Your wife was your first?”

  Matt nodded, feeling a lump beginning to form in his throat.

  “So you’ve only been with one person?” Amy’s voice was filled with reverence and awe.

  Matt shook his head slowly. “No, we broke up right after high school graduation. She was at school in Texas. I was back East. We didn’t get back together until our senior year of college.”

  Amy nodded as she continued making notes. “Do you reach climax normally when you have intercourse?”

  “Yes.” Matt had to smile. “I think most men do.” That question was obviously geared towards the women she’d been surveying because, for men, that was pretty much a given.

  “In your experience, women don’t?” Amy asked with only curiosity in her tone. No judgment.

  “In my experience”—his voice dropped even lower than it already had—“I always take care of a woman’s needs before my own.”

  Amy’s cheeks grew a deeper shade of red as her mouth fell open. She reached up and her fingertips touched the bridge of her nose before quickly lowering her hand. He’d noticed she’d done this several times now. “Did you used to wear glasses?”

  “Yes.” Amy’s gaze shot up to his and her tone sounded surprised and, if Matt wasn’t mistaken, defensive.

  “I just noticed that you keep putting your hand to your face like you would be pushing them up on your nose,” he readily explained.

  “Oh,” Amy sighed, shaking her head slightly. “I’ve been trying to stop doing that. But I guess a twenty-year habit is not going to go away that easily.”