Page 8 of All Signs Point to Malibu

“I’m pretty sure I don’t give a shit.”

Still the most immature person on the planet. “What are you doing here?” Please let him be coaching the high school football team or something. Unfortunately, he’s not wearing athletic gear, but a pair of dress pants and pale blue dress shirt open at the collar and rolled at the sleeves. In my gut I know what’s coming.

“I was invited to give a career week speech,” he says as though it’s the greatest honor of his life.

I knew it, but still, no fucking way. “Today?”

His smug expression is wiped from his face as his gaze flickers over my own professional-looking attire. “That’s why you’re here too?”

“They usually only ask one speaker a day. You must have gotten your date wrong.”

Warren folds his arms across his chest and yeah okay, the muscular forearms are definitely his best feature. Hisonlyredeeming feature. Would I like to touch one? Absolutely. Will I? Never. I learned my lesson about touching Warren Mitchell the hard way. I mean if I was dangling from a cliff and he was the only person around to save me, would I consider letting him wrap those arms around my body? Perhaps...

“Maybe you gotyourdate wrong,” he says, bending slightly at the knees to jerk my attention to his face and away from the muscles that were holding me hostage.

“No, see, I put my appointments on a calendar, not on the back of my hand.”

Warren opens his mouth to argue then notices ink smeared on his hand. I take a step closer and squint to read what’s written on his tanned skin. The last two digits of a phone number are smudged and unreadable.

“I guess Sasha won’t be getting a second date.”

Warren shrugs. “One date was probably enough.”

“For her, absolutely.”

Warren starts to retort but Mrs. Miller, a twelfth grade teacher, approaches us. She looks overworked, exhausted, surviving on caffeine and teen angst. I have no idea how teachers do it. They are real-life heroes. I like kids well enough—from a distance. Zero desire to have any of my own. Risk passing along this...condition? No thanks.

Somehow, Mrs. Miller still has enough energy to greet us with a warm smile and genuine excitement. “Wonderful. You both made it!”

“Hello, Mrs. Miller. Great to see you,” I say politely. “Um, question—isn’t there usually only one guest speaker?” I cast a side-eye at Warren.

Mrs. Miller nods and looks apologetic as she glances back and forth between us. “There was a scheduling conflict, but we know how hard it was to get you...”

She’s referring to me.

I catch Warren’s look from the corner of my eye and I know what’s going through that judgy mind of his. I think I’m too busy and important to give back to the next generation. He doesn’t know me, so I don’t know why I let his opinion—hisvery wrongopinion—affect me.

“My schedule’s a little tight,” I say to Mrs. Miller.

She nods. “We didn’t want to reschedule either of you when we realized the mix-up, so we thought a joint presentation would be perfect.”

In an alternate universe, maybe.

“Perfect,” I say with a tight smile. I won’t let this unexpected run-in with my arch nemesis derail me. I am a confident, successful business owner. I belong here. My daily affirmation seems to lack conviction the more I repeat it.

Another bell signaling the start of first period and Mrs. Miller checks her watch. “We’re just bringing the students into the gymnasium now. Give us a minute to get them all settled. This close to summer break, they turn into assholes.”

Ah, right there. Pure, unfiltered truth.

As she heads into the gymnasium, Warren turns to me. “Seems as though we’ll be sharing the stage.”

“Or you could offer to come back another day.”

“Afraid a professional athlete will be more popular with the kids?”

“Formerprofessional athlete.”

The minute the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. One run-in without dredging up the past would have been too much to ask.

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