Page 7

Max

I ’d just finished making coffee when I heard her footsteps upstairs—barefoot, soft, dragging just a little. Tessa Swindle, goat whisperer, brain surgeon-turned-teacher, chaos magnet… and possibly the best thing to ever walk into my kitchen.

She came downstairs in a hoodie and pajama pants covered in cartoon brains—of course.

“You’re making coffee,” she said, voice still scratchy from sleep.

“You saved a goat, survived a bee swarm, and didn’t run screaming from my friends. You earned it.”

She yawned and leaned against the counter, sipping from the mug I handed her. “Thanks. This might be the most peace we’ve had in… what, twenty-four hours?”

“Don’t jinx it,” I said.

I jinxed it.

Because not five minutes later, someone knocked on the front door like the house was on fire.

Tessa groaned into her coffee. “Is it Boris again? Did he forget his hoodie?”

I opened the door to find Principal Brenda McTavish standing there in a pantsuit, heels, and enough perfume to trigger a national forest alert. Her hair was wound tighter than her expression.

“Max,” she said briskly. “Is Miss Swindle home?”

Tessa froze mid-sip to where she could see her. That such a formal tone for someone who wants me to come teach ten-year-olds fractions.”

Brenda gave her a tight smile. “We have a… situation.”

“Did the copier break down again?” Tessa asked.

“No. Worse. The substitute we hired to cover your first week off because of the bees, has just been arrested.”

I blinked. “For what?”

“Allegedly,” Brenda said, with finger quotes, “he ran an underground ferret racing league.”

There was a moment of silence.

Then Tessa burst out laughing. “Is that… is that illegal?”

“Apparently it is if the ferrets are stolen.”

I watched as Tessa choked on her coffee.

Brenda pinched the bridge of her nose like she’d aged ten years since breakfast. “I know today’s not your official day back, but I desperately need you to come in and keep the classroom from imploding.

I have three different parents threatening to remove their kids and one teacher stress-eating peanut brittle in the supply closet. ”

Tessa looked at me, then at her coffee, then at her brain pajama pants. “Can I wear this?”

“No,” Brenda said flatly.

“I’ll go,” she said, setting the mug down. “Give me fifteen minutes to make myself look like someone who isn’t covered in dried goat spit.”

As she headed back upstairs, Brenda glanced around the room with a raised brow. “You two seem… cozy.”

I cleared my throat. “She got stung by bees. She is staying at the B&B that’s it.”

Brenda blinked. “That sounds oddly noble. And possibly code for something.”

“It’s not. It’s literally what it is.”

She nodded like she didn’t believe me, then walked back to her car, muttering something about ferrets.

Fifteen minutes later, Tessa came back down dressed like the world’s most adorable teacher—hair up in a messy bun, glasses on, and a cute button-down dress that made me want to start faking head injuries to sit in her classroom.

“You look like trouble,” I said.

She smirked. “And you look like you’re going to walk me to my car.”

I followed her out, catching the way her eyes scanned the trees, probably checking for rogue goats. “You good?” I asked, opening the jeep door for her.

“I think so,” she said. “It’s just teaching. No scalpels. No brain tumors. Just little humans with big emotions. I can handle that.”

I leaned against the doorframe. “You can handle anything, Tessa Swindle.”

She smiled at me, soft and kind. “Don’t forget that when I come home crying because a fourth grader told me I look like a clown, with the bee stings all over me.”

“And I’ll make tacos.”

“Deal.”

She slid into the jeep, waved, and backed out like she was driving into a battlefield. Which, to be fair, she kind of was.

And I stood there on the porch, watching her go, wondering when exactly this woman became the best part of my day. I can’t allow this to happen. I have to put a stop to it now.