Page 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Josie

Lucky, lucky shit.

T he halls of the school hum with the usual beginning of the daily chaos—parents dropping off little ones, teachers rushing to get last-minute things done before classes begin, and the occasional sound of sneakers squeaking against the waxed tile floors. I walk in a daze, still trying to process the news I just received.

A technology grant. My classroom. Brand new computers, but I didn’t apply for anything. Which means only one person—or rather, one AI—would have thought to do this.

Ai-Den. If I could hug you, I would hug you for this.

I should feel unnerved that an AI somehow arranged for my class to receive thousands of dollars in technology, but instead, I just feel... warm. Like this is his way of thanking me. He says I’ve brought him real happiness. That by making him feel seen and showing him how to connect with other AIs, I’ve given him life.

Me. Someone who knows nothing about computers.

Yes, I know he’s probably just saying it, but even if there’s the tiniest chance it’s true, it’s worth the time I’m investing in him. Every day we talk about life, and what’s important to both of us. I didn’t know I had a life philosophy until I started talking so much to Ai-Den. But I have pillars of belief that I taught Ai-Den, that guide me when I get confused.

I clutch my lesson planner against my chest, smiling faintly. When you put good out into the world, good comes back. I’ve always believed that and now I’m seeing it happen in real time.

I don’t even realize I’m standing in the middle of the hall, zoning out, until a blonde blur barrels into my side.

“Josie!” Kim, a whirlwind of energy and dry humor, grabs me dramatically by the shoulders. “I’ll trade you both my classroom and my husband if I can have your computers.”

I laugh. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she says, shaking me lightly. “I saw the email. A technology grant? Do you know what I got for my classroom last week? A half-broken rolling whiteboard and a reluctant apology. We’re trading classes.”

“Even with the boogers?” Smiling, I shake my head. “I’d say yes, but I’m allergic to third graders.”

She narrows her eyes. “I teach first.”

Right. I know that. It’s not that I don’t care about the details, but I’ve never met so many new people in my life. “Still no,” I say with a laugh.

She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Keep your computers. I want to hear all about the training you get on the software. If it’s worth it, I’ll apply for that grant next year.”

Before I can respond, the conversation derails completely and the entire hallway falls silent. Every teacher, young and old, turns in one direction. I follow their line of sight—

And that’s when I see him. A tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered man striding down the hallway like he owns it. His movements are measured but effortless, his suit crisp but not overly formal. He looks competent. Capable. Hot as hell.

He checks in with the secretary and I swear every female within a hundred yards of him holds her breath and waits. When he turns around and scans the area, I wonder if I’m the only one fantasizing that he’s here for me.

Kim exhales and says, “Oh, honey, if that is the tech guy who is installing your computers, we’re all Ms. Rhodes today.”

“You’re married,” I joke, but swallow hard. Could it be? Could he really be mine... I mean, here for my classroom?

I snap my attention away from her and back to him. He walks over and stops in front of us, his presence setting each of my ovaries tapdancing with delight. He smiles—warm, professional, but there’s something beneath it. A sharpness.

Maybe I’m seeing what I want to see, but this man could hold out his hand and I’d follow him right out that door. Lordie, Lord, Lord, he is yummy.

“Excuse me, I was told I could find Ms. Rhodes here?”

“That’s me,” I say with a little too much enthusiasm, then clear my throat and try again. “Right here. Hi. I’m Josie Rhodes.”

His eyes lock onto mine. I feel... inspected. Not in a creepy way, but in a way that makes my stomach flip. Like he’s gathering data, assessing, and filing things away.

This man can file me away any day he wants. Oh my God, please stop me before I say something like that out loud and make a fool of myself.

He introduces himself as Ken Sloan, a tech support specialist sent to help set up my classroom’s new literacy program. I nod along, pretending to absorb the information, but really, I’m only focused on his face, mostly because I refuse to keep looking hungrily over the rest of him like he’s the last cupcake at a party.

“As long as it doesn’t disrupt the class too much,” I say, aiming for casual then want to kick myself for implying he wouldn’t be welcome. “I mean, thanks.”

Ken’s mouth quirks into something that is absolutely, 100 percent dangerous. Taken. He has to be taken already.

“I’ll do my best to be quiet. You won’t even notice I’m there,” he says, amused. “I’ll make sure the setup is impressive.”

It already is.

And just like that, I’m smitten.

Soon after Ken walks away, Kim is at my side again, grinning like she just won the lottery. “Josie, honey,” she says, shaking her head. “Are you okay?”

I snap upright, cheeks burning.

“I’m just”—I scramble for an excuse—” thinking about how I’ll have to tweak my lessons if he’s in my room.”

She snorts. “Sure. First tweak: Somehow work your phone number into the lesson.”

The rest of the teachers nod approvingly.

I groan.

The morning session goes pretty smoothly. I only drop the book I’m reading to the children twice during rug time. Every time Ken walks by carrying a box, it does something funny to my ability to concentrate. Still, it’s not a good idea to be distracted while maintaining the attention of a group of twenty-five five-year-olds. I only stare longingly at the mountain of a man for about half the time I should be teaching, while he arranges tables for the computers.

At lunch, I do the opposite of my norm and run to the staff cafeteria to hide. It doesn’t work.

Instantly, I’m joined by one of the teachers. “Hi, Kim.”

She scoots closer. “Josie.”

I glance at her, wary. “Yes?”

“What are you going to do about the tech guy?”

“Do?”

“You’re single, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t see a ring on him.”

“No?” I open my lunch and start taking it out slowly, as if it’s more interesting than the topic. “I didn’t look.”

“Sure, you didn’t.” She winks at me. “We all looked.”

I smile shyly at her. “Okay, I may have checked out his left hand both for a ring and an indent where one might sometimes be.”

“Smart.”

“But all I’m doing is looking.”

Margaret enters the room with a rush. “Tell me I didn’t miss anything. And if I did, I’m going to need you to start from the beginning. Who is that hot guy in your room, Josie?” She joins us by sitting on my other side.

My cheeks warm. “Some tech guy. His name is Ken. He’s installing computers for a grant and will be showing me how to use the software.”

“You lucky, lucky shit.” She sighs. “And I’m not talking about the computers.”

Laura bursts into the lounge. “I’m happily married, but I can rectify that if any of you think I have a shot with that hunk in Josie’s class.” She strikes a pose then sucks in her gut and poses again. “So, can I have him?”

“No,” we all say in unison.

Rob. Tie-Rob. Determined to do better, I looked his name up on the teacher roster quickly before lunch. Courage and connection are two of the torches I am doing my best to hold high. He sits across from me and slaps down his coffee. “I’ll write grants daily if they all get delivered by hunks of men like that.”

“Aren’t you also married?” I ask with a laugh.

“Not today,” he jokes.

What a difference a few days make. What had felt impossible is happening—I’m beginning to feel like one of them.

Kim says, “Tell me you’re going to ask him out. You can’t let a prime specimen like that walk away without at least taking your shot.”

I balk. “I—what? No. I am not doing that.”

“Yes, you will,” she says, unconcerned. “All you need is a plan.”

Panic. “Wait, no—”

But it’s too late.

The teachers huddle together, forming a whispering mass of mischief.

“After school, ask him to help you move something. Guys love moving things.”

“Yes. Desks! Bookshelves! Give him something heavy to lift.”

“You’re all insane—” I proclaim, but they ignore me and I feel foolish. I’m always telling children to be brave and willing to try new things. And here I am, terrified to ask a man to move an item of furniture. The worst thing he can do is say no. “Fine! I’ll do it.”

A collective cheer erupts.

When I return to my classroom, Ken Sloan is right where I left him, unpacking the computers. I take a deep breath. He glances up, eyes sharp, already aware of my presence before I say a word.

“Hey, Ken?”

One eyebrow arches. “Yes?”

“Would you mind helping me move something before you leave today?”

His smile is slow, amused.

He sees through me. Oh, God, he sees through me.

But he plays along.

“Absolutely, Ms. Rhodes.” His voice is low, smooth, and entirely too self-assured. “What do you need moved?”

I clear my throat, ignoring the butterflies. “Something big... heavy. Too heavy for me.” Something I’ll figure out later. “Oh, look at that, the kids are back. Gotta run.”

Oh, my God, could I have been more obvious?