Page 2 of Along Comes Trouble

How can he be so blasé about a toddler needing stitches ?

“Uncle Colton said he’d take me to school but we stopped to get donuts first. That’s why we’re late. Mom and Dad don’t know we stopped, but Uncle Colton says that’s okay because it’s a secret, right?” Claire looks up at her uncle like he’s her own personal superhero while I have a silent aha moment. So this is Colton Carmichael, brother to my friend Sarah, uncle to little Claire, and, according to his sister, one hell of a self-centered asshole who cares about little more than having a good time .

Colton puts a finger to his lips and smiles at Claire. “The most important thing about secrets is the part where we don’t tell anyone, remember? Especially your mom and dad.” He turns to me, lifts his hat, and runs a hand through his thick, dark hair. The family resemblance is strong and I see hints of my friend in the angle of his honey-colored eyes. “I told her not to worry about being late,” he says as he squares his hat back on his head. “I’m sure she didn’t miss too much .”

“Only the first two hours of school and the chance to gather materials for the science project we’re about to start. But sure—” I give him my most scathing look “—donuts are more important.” Claire looks horrified, so I hurry to take the sting out of my words. “Nothing she can’t catch up on, though.” I smile for Claire’s sake .

Everything about the man in front of me screams trouble, from the blue Henley shirt highlighting his proud chest, to the swagger in his step, to the secret donut trip with his niece. And the more he talks, the more I trust my first assessment, judgy or not. I am not a fan of this guy and if the look on his face is any indication, he’s not a fan of me, either .

“That’s what I thought. See, little chickadee?” he asks Claire. “I told you you’d be fine. You worry too much.” He bends to bop her on the nose with the tip of his finger .

“Or, maybe you don’t worry enough.” I mutter the words, only barely paying enough attention to know I’m speaking out loud because I’m mentally running through all the ways to get Claire caught up to the rest of the class .

Colton lifts his chin and stares at me from under the brim of his hat. “Excuse me ?”

“Hmmm?” I answer on autopilot, trying to count the leaves clutched in the fists of some of my more overachieving students. Maybe they would be willing to share with Claire …

“Did you tell me I don’t worry enough ?”

His words yank me back to the present and I stare at his scowling face with wide eyes .

Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud ?

Colton spins his hat around. He wants to look angry, but I don’t think his face is designed for it. “I feel like that’s an awfully big leap for someone who doesn’t even know me .”

I stare at the man in disbelief, all my thoughts stolen by the sheer embarrassment of having my mouth working while my head was distracted. Just because I think something, doesn’t mean it needs to be spoken into the world. I blink and shield my eyes as the sun peeks out from behind a cloud, blinding me. “You did just teach your niece that donuts are more important than school. Plus, I’m friends with your sister and she’s told me all about you. You know, Sarah ?”

“I’m familiar with my sister,” he replies through gritted teeth. Though, from what his sister has told me, I might be more familiar with her than he is. Sarah’s had a falling out with her family and the only Carmichael she even kind of keeps in contact with is Colton. Listening to Sarah talk, it’s clear she loves him, but can’t understand or respect him at all. What kind of man could stir up such contradicting feelings in a person ?

The sharp staccato of a militant pair of high heels captures my attention. “Ms. Morgan.” The voice is clipped and harsh and in terrible contrast to the beautiful day .

I whirl to find Rhonda Thompson, the assistant principal, striding toward me, her brows furrowed, her hands balled into fists and pressed into her voluminous hips. Well, shit. There’s no way this is going to end well .

“Yes, Mrs. Thompson ?”

She grips my arm and pulls me a few steps away, giving Colton the side eye before turning her attention to me. Jaw taut. Teeth gritting together. Eyes pinched. She looks like an opossum having a very bad day. “I have been watching you standing out here, flirting with that man while your entire class waits for you to get your act together. I have never seen more inappropriate behavior in all of my life .”

Flirting? Is that what was happening? It didn’t feel like flirting. It felt like standing next to a self-absorbed jackass with my foot lodged firmly in my mouth .

I glance at my class, which Faye has in a neat line, heading our way. “I wasn’t flirting,” I begin, but Rhonda isn’t listening .

“As Wildland Elementary’s newest faculty member, I would expect you to be more interested in making a good impression on us rather than on a student’s father .”

“It’s her uncle,” I say before I think better of it .

Rhonda narrows her eyes. “As if that makes any difference. I suggest you get your class back inside the classroom before I decide to make this a formal reprimand.” And with that, she pivots on her heel and stomps away, her hips swaying in the too-tight A-line skirt she squeezed herself into this morning .

I turn my attention back to Colton, who is now crouching in front of my class, telling them a story that has even my most difficult students focused and laughing. The image makes me smile, a man that big, taking the time to connect with children that small. But if there was ever a better way to encapsulate the idea that looks can be deceiving, I’ve never seen it. I don’t care how good he is with kids; that man is nothing but trouble .

Behind me, Mrs. Thompson clears her throat, spurring me into action and flicking a spark of anger to life. I wasn’t flirting with Colton. I don’t know him, I don’t like him, and I certainly don’t respect him. Flirting? Is she crazy? And my entire class wasn’t waiting for me, either. They were busy gathering supplies and burning off steam. Faye had everything perfectly under control during the two-minute conversation I had with that man .

I hurry back to my students, catching Faye’s eyes and puffing out my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Mr. Carmichael, but I have to get my students back inside. You’ll need to take Claire into the office and get her checked in before she can join us.” I can’t bring myself to look at the man .

He straightens and shoves his hands into his back pockets. “I’m sorry if I got you in trouble .”

“No trouble,” I say, before turning to my class. “Okay, people. Let’s straighten out this line and head into the school.” I hate being reprimanded, especially this early in the career I’ve worked so hard to start. Colton mutters something under his breath (something that might earn me a slew of angry emails from concerned parents if any of the students happened to hear) and then guides Claire into the school without sparing me another glance .

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