If I Belong With You (Seriously Sweet St Louis #1) - Cindy Kirk Page 0,1
chair against the wall and slowly sat down, using the time to regain her composure.
Although she was pleased he hadn’t responded to her bait, a tiny part of her couldn’t help but wish he had. It had been a long time since she’d flirted with any man, much less one this handsome, and she found herself reluctant to end the game so quickly. She batted her heavily mascaraed lashes. “Are you sure I was kidding?”
Though she’d meant the words to come out light and teasing, the natural huskiness of her voice added a decidedly sensual edge.
A hint of unease clouded his gaze, and he sat back in his chair putting distance between them. Angel cursed her reckless impulsiveness.
She flashed a smile and punched his shoulder. “I’m not trying to get it on. I already got an old man. He’s mad chill.”
The tension in his expression eased. “You’ve already got an old man?”
“Yep.” She blew a bubble, then popped it with her finger. “He’s old, but not as old as you.”
Angel caught a hint of unmistakable relief in the teacher’s eyes before he grabbed his planner from the desk drawer. “I know you’re in a hurry so I’ll get to the point. You’ve been a student here at Woodland Hills for what—two weeks?”
“Something like that,” she said.
It had actually been closer to three. Three frustrating weeks of listening and asking and observing. Three weeks gone—and she knew nothing more than when she’d first arrived.
She shifted her gaze from his face, settling on the clock over his left shoulder. Three-fifteen.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but last night Mr. Harper was in a car accident. He’s going to be okay but he won’t be back this semester.”
“That has what to do with me?” Angel had briefly met the rotund and balding guidance counselor when she’d enrolled. She hadn’t seen him since. The man had been pleasant but disorganized. She pushed aside the memory of how he’d messed up her schedule, and quickly calculated how long it would take her to reach the park.
“Well…” Jake cleared his throat.
She shifted impatiently.
“One of Mr. Harper’s primary duties was to help students who…” He hesitated again.
She glanced at the clock and groaned. At this rate she’d never make it to the park on time. “Go ahead. Just say it. Harper was in charge of the losers.”
Jake’s eyes widened and he jerked back as if she’d struck a physical blow.
“Okay, I can tell you’re into all that PC garbage. Let me rephrase.” She sighed and recited the line in a singsong manner. “Mr. Harper worked with those of us labeled ‘at-risk.’”
Angel could allude to her bottom-feeding status in Woodland Hills’s food chain without a twinge of angst. Being out of high school eight years had taught her there was more to life than being a homecoming queen or a cheerleader. But she was not so far removed that she didn’t realize that if she really were a high school student in this situation, she would appreciate the teacher’s sensitivity.
Jake’s neck turned red above his collar. “Angel, please don’t misunderstand—”
“Don’t worry about it.” She snapped her gum. “I have high self-esteem. I can handle it. I have a lot of potential.”
“Yes, you do.” His words were sincere and reassuring. He’d totally missed her sarcasm. “If you apply yourself, there’s no limit to how far you can go.”
“Yeah, you’re right. My answer about the nerve gas was brilliant.”
She checked the clock again and her heart shifted into high gear. If she ran most of the way, she might still be on time. She stood. “I hate to cut this party short, but I’m a busy girl. I’ve got places to go, people to see.”
“Okay.” He held up a hand. “Short and sweet. I need to set up a time for a home visit. Mr. H had gotten all but yours done.”
“Home visit?” She forced herself to remain calm. After all, he had to be kidding. Didn’t he? She cast a surreptitious glance, searching for a sign that he was just teasing—a twinkle in his eye, a twitch of his lip, even a raised brow. But all she found was an earnest expression. Her heart sank.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds.” His dimples flashed unexpectedly. “It gives me a chance to meet your parents.”
After more than ten years, the response was automatic. “They’re dead.”
Concern darkened his gaze. “I’m sorry to hear that.”