Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“You can’t suspend me, Julie. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It’s policy, Nora. Especially since there were drugs involved. I’m sure you’ll be reinstated in no time. Pending the outcome of your, uh… Oh, dear, how do I put this? Legal predicament, of course.”
Tears welled in my eyes as I drew in a shaky breath. “You can’t do this to me. Come on, Julie. Screw policy. Those kids are my life.”
“I know, and I give you my word we’ll take great care of them for you. Barbara Gilbert has already agreed to come in and take your class. You like her, right?”
I bit my bottom lip and hung my head. Last I’d heard, Barbara was turning down short-term substitute work because she was holding out for a permanent position.
And clearly she’d found one.
With my kids.
“Yeah. She’s great.”
“Listen, we’re all rooting for you here. If you didn’t do anything wrong, you have nothing to worry about.”
Yeah, right. If only that were the case. I was a Stewart and we were currently zero and one with the judicial system.
My head snapped up when there was a knock on my door. Nine o’clock. Right on time. My heart skipped a beat knowing it was Camden on the other side.
“I understand, Julie. Can I pop in after school one day and pick up a few things from my desk?”
“Absolutely. Just focus on yourself and we’ll hold down the fort until you get back, okay?”
I sighed and walked to my door. “Yeah. Okay. Have a good weekend.”
“You too, dear.”
I ended the call and shoved my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. I paused to smooth my hair down and do a cursory sweep under my eyes just in case any of my tears had the chance to escape.
My efforts were fruitless because as soon as I opened the door and Camden’s bright-blue eyes landed on me, he rushed out, “What’s wrong?”
“Hi,” I greeted, sick and damn tired of people asking me that. But even more sick and tired of there usually being an answer.
He extended a paper travel cup of coffee my way. “Is that a real hi? Or hi, I’m avoiding your question?”
“Both.” Shoving the door wide to invite him in, I took the cup from his hand, never having needed a second dose of caffeine more.
Sexy as sin in a pair of sneakers, low-slung jeans, and a fitted black v-neck T-shirt that hugged new and mouth-watering planes his suit had hidden the night before, he stepped into my house. “Okay, then. Let me put it this way. As your attorney, is there anything I need to know about?”
I turned on a toe and walked to the kitchen, positive I was going to need to doctor the coffee with more cream and sugar. After placing my cup on the counter, I pried the top off and sighed. “My principal suspended me”—I hooked my fingers in air quotes—“pending the outcome of my legal predicament.”
“Shiiit,” he drawled. “I’d really hoped we could get in front of that. Have you talked to your union representative yet?”
Retrieving the milk from the fridge, I barked a laugh. “Um, I think your New York is showing. There’s no teacher’s union in these parts.”
“Oh, right,” he said then took a sip of his coffee. “So, how are you handling the news?”
I slid my teal canister over, scooped two heaping spoonfuls of sugar into my cup, and gave it a swirl. “Well, I’ve had about three minutes to process it, but I’m happy to report I haven’t broken into the vodka or cut the brake lines on Jonathan’s cruiser yet, so I’d say so far so good.”
He grinned. “That’s reassuring. I’m still trying to figure out how to explain away your teeth marks on Officer Rice’s hand. Cut brake lines would definitely require a touch more legal finesse on my part.”
I chuffed and looked down to put the top back on my coffee. “I still can’t believe you’re an attorney.”
“Well, maybe if we’d spoken in the last five years, you’d know.”
“What?” I asked, my head snapping up. It could have been an innocent prod from an old friend. Just a teasing joke. But there was something odd to the edge in his tone.
He smiled. “You ready to go? I called and impound is only open until noon.”
Ooookay. Interesting subject change. But it was Camden, and while things were certainly different between us—seriously, he hadn’t pulled me into a hug once yet—I told myself that it was nothing.
“Um, yeah. Let me just grab my stuff.”
While I packed a new purse and wallet with my emergency credit card that lived in my nightstand and thankfully not in my wallet currently numbered in an evidence locker, he stood in the middle of my living room, scanning the pictures on the wall. It was so incredibly surreal to see him inside my house.