Page 18 of Burning Skies
“Why not?” I’ll have to check local ordinances about that, but it could be really fun for my students. That’s the benefit of the Harvester Club. Hands-on experience.
The grin on her face as she runs off to class makes my heart happy. Students like Nora Jean are why I’m willing to suck up my pride and beg my father to help us purchase Mr. Turner’s property.
Adrian pauses in front of my desk as he passes out theWild Heart High Ledger. “It’s hot off the press, people. Let’s get our literacy rates up. If my freshmen’s reading scores get any lower, I’m going to fling myself off a tall bridge.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Don’t do that. If we didn’t have you, who would do the newspaper?” I’m pretty sure the man sleeps here sometimes to make his deadlines.
He buffs his nails on his shirt. “Not going to lie. I am pretty good at this.”
“Can I get a few extra copies for my classroom?” I hold out my hand.
His eyes twinkle. “I thought you’d never ask.”
My smile dims because I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. Adrian is great. He’s two years older than I am and a handsome guy. I love his dedication to his job. But I have a strict rule about not dating anyone I work with. I need this job too much to risk any entanglements.
Trish rushes over. “I need thirty.” She gives him her crazy eyes, and I leave her to flirt with our co-worker.
As I unlock my room, two girls are looking at the front page of the newspaper and sighing. “He’s so dreamy. If only he wasn’t so much older.”
“Who’s dreamy?” I ask, figuring they’re going to tell me about a celebrity.
“Beau Walker,” they both chime.
Just then, those two newspaper students, Keith and Sabrina, walk by, and Sabrina must overhear my kids because she nods at them. “That firefighter is so hot. And oh my God, he’s such a sweetheart.”
As the girls giggle, Keith rolls his eyes. “It’s just a stupid uniform, Sabrina.”
I finally look at the front page, which features several photos of Beau.
And damn, the girls are right. He is dreamy, that bastard.
In one pic, he’s holding up the rattler with one hand while we’re all crowded on top of the table behind him like a bunch of dodo birds. In another, he’s sitting on the couch in his fireman’s t-shirt and those pants, surrounded by four rescue kittens. In the last image, a profile photo of him, he’s standing with his arms crossed in front of the fire truck.
I realize he positioned himself to minimize that black eye my brother gave him. Either that, or Paige gave him a little concealer touch-up.
The headline reads, “Local Firefighter Saves the Day.”
When a rattlesnake recently made its way into the English department, the fire department was quick to respond, and local rancher Beau Walker, a Wild Heart alum, came to the rescue.
I figure he’s going to sound like a schmuck, like a narcissist who makes everything about himself. But he doesn’t.
“I might have been the one who caught the snake that day, but every firefighter on staff is trained to do that job. You might call me a hero, and I’m honored, but I’m just one of many. All of my brothers and sisters on staff deserve that title.”
And yes, he apparently rescued several kittens from an elderly local who needed medical attention. He even checked on her at the hospital to make sure she was recovering.
As the five-minute bell rings, warning that first period is about to start, I frown. How can this be the same man who jumped Trig? How could Beau, who saved me from that handsy guy at that masquerade party, sucker-punch my brother out of nowhere, totally unprovoked?
My stomach twists as I consider that someone’s lying.
And it might be my brothers.
By the end of the day, my feet ache, my shoulders hurt, and there’s a steady throb in my temple. I usually stay late, but today I’m going to cut myself a little slack. I have every intention of heading home, pouring a glass of wine, and taking a long, hot bath. Because after I take a nap, I need to grade sixty papers.
I tuck the newspaper into my desk. If I check out Beau’s pics later, will that really hurt anyone? Besides, I should have some photos handy for the next time he pisses me off so I can throw darts at his annoyingly handsome face.
I’m daydreaming about my bubble bath, but as I’m packing up my stuff, my phone buzzes with a text.
It’s my mother.
