A Maverick And A Half. Marie Ferrarella
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I know that,” he informed her with a dismissive shrug. All he wanted to do was get out of the classroom, away from Marina Laramie and her sleeping infant. “So, if there’s nothing else you want to discuss about Jake, I’ve got to be getting back to the ranch,” he informed her, as he turned to leave. Then just before he exited, Anderson felt a need to add, “Those posts don’t nail themselves up.”
“I’m sure that they don’t,” she responded with what he had to admit seemed to him to be a very infectious grin.
He hadn’t come here to make trite observations about Jake’s teacher’s smile, Anderson reminded himself. He’d come because he had Jake’s best interests at heart and he was really trying, in his own less than stellar way, to make up for all the time that had been lost to him. Precious time he wasn’t going to ever get back.
“Okay, then, so it’s settled,” Anderson announced as if they had arrived at a mutual agreement rather than something he was just stubbornly reiterating. “Jake’s going to be playing some after school activities.” Eyeing Marina Laramie, he waited for the redhead to contradict him.
But she didn’t, which surprised him—as well as relieved him.
“You know what’s best for your boy,” she said.
“That’s right,” Anderson said as he strode out of the classroom, “I do.”
Except that he didn’t, and he knew it.
He was feeling his way around and fighting the feeling that he was doing a far from spectacular job at every turn.
Indecision nibbled away at him like a stubborn, persistent mouse. Maybe that Laramie woman had the right idea. Maybe Jake would do better helping her out after school. At least it would get him out of his room and away from those video games of his.
Heaven knew the idea of helping the woman out was not without its appeal or merits, he mused. He wouldn’t mind having that job himself.
Whoa, there, Andy. Get a grip, he counseled himself. We’re talking about Jake here, not you. He’s the one who could benefit from spending some extra one-on-one time with the lady.
When he came right down to it, he didn’t know why he’d turned Jake’s teacher down, or why, as he left the building now, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being a chastised grade-schooler. After all, the woman hadn’t actually said anything to make him feel like he’d done anything wrong. If questioned, he couldn’t even put his finger on one reason why he felt that way. He figured it was probably rooted deep into his past, back to the days when he actually was a grade-schooler and everyone was always telling him what to do.
He hadn’t taken their advice then, Anderson reminded himself, and he wasn’t about to start now by being led around by the nose by that slip of a redhead.
He needed to do more than that, Anderson thought as he climbed back up into his truck. He needed to keep his distance from Jake’s bubbly, interfering teacher. Everything in his gut—the center of his very best survival instincts—told him that he needed to steer clear of her if he knew what was good for him and if he intended to get through this time of parental custody intact.
Not just intact, he reminded himself. He needed to do more than to remain intact. He needed to come out a winner when it came to all the matters that concerned Jake.
From the second he had found out about his son’s existence, Jake was his number one priority.
As for this Ms. Laramie, the woman might be a real stunner, but she was way off base. Jake, a mother’s helper? Anderson silently questioned as he now frowned at the idea. Not his boy, he thought. Not if he had anything to say about it.
In order to terminate the awkward meeting with the fifth-grade teacher, Anderson had told her that he had to be getting back to his ranch. But instead of doing that, he decided to stick around until Jake finished playing basketball. When he thought about it, staying in the vicinity of the school made a lot more sense than driving to the ranch and then back again.
Leaving the building, Anderson got into the cab of his truck and drove around to the back entrance of the school. He told himself it was closer to where Jake would get out once basketball practice was over but to be quite honest, he wanted to be sure that Marina Laramie didn’t accidentally look out the window and see him parked out in front. It would just complicate everything.
He had no idea why he put so much thought into this, but he did. For some reason, the woman made him uneasy. Avoiding her seemed the best way to go.
The moment he pulled up the brake and turned off the engine, he began to get fidgety. Accustomed to working hard from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning until he fell into bed at night, just sitting in the truck waiting had him growing progressively more restless with every passing moment.
Anderson was not a man who did “nothing” well.
He was contemplating getting out of his truck and walking around the school grounds until practice was over when the cell phone he’d thrown in the glove compartment of his vehicle—an old flip phone model—rang.
At first, Anderson didn’t even hear it.
His cell phone hardly ever rang, so it caught him off guard. It took him a moment to connect the faint sound to its source of origin.
He flipped the phone open and fairly barked, “Hello?”
The annoyed greeting would have been enough to scare a great many people away. Paige Dalton Traub was not one of those people. Younger than Anderson by five years, she was every bit as feisty as her brothers. She had to be. Having grown up with three bossy brothers and two equally bossy sisters, it took a great deal for her feathers to get even slightly ruffled. It took even more for her to become even mildly intimidated, and certainly never by a sibling.
Paige recognized her brother’s less than dulcet tones immediately.
Rather than return his less than warm greeting, Paige went straight to the heart of the matter. “So, how did it go, big brother?”
Anderson had no idea what his younger sister was talking about. She might as well have been talking gibberish. Most women, in his limited experience, did.
“How did what go?” he countered, irritated.
Paige laughed shortly. “Ah, there’s that disposition of a wet hornet that I know and love,” she noted sarcastically. “You might recall that initially, you called me, and I assumed that the reason you called had something to do with Marina and your son. Am I right?” she wanted to know.
“Yes,” he conceded grudgingly through clenched teeth.
“Well, I’m here now so spill it. Do you know why Marina wanted to see you, and is everything okay?”
Instead of answering her directly, Anderson approached her question from a different angle. “You told me about his teacher having a kid of her own, but you never mentioned that the woman was touchy-feely.”
“She touched you?” Paige asked, clearly taken aback. She and the fifth-grade teacher had gotten to know one another over the last year or so and while Marina was friendly enough and everyone liked the woman, she wasn’t the type to touch a student’s parent.
“No,” he bit off, annoyed that his sister wasn’t following his train of thought. “But she wanted me to get all touchy-feely with Jake.” As he spoke, his mouth curved downward into a distasteful frown. “She seems to think that Jake’s too quiet.”
“I should have that problem,” Paige commented with a laugh. “I only wish that at least some of my students would be quiet like Jake.” After a slight hesitation she asked, “So how did she suggest you do it?” When he didn’t say anything, she prodded him a little. “How did she suggest you get closer to Jake?”
He