Page 34 of Christmas Criminal

He grins and holds up two fingers. "Maybe a little bit."

"Wow, I kind of like this side of you. There’s a little zing under those glasses, huh?"

"Keep it quiet. I don't need my kids finding out I'm funny."

I snort. "Hey, now. Nobody said anything about funny."

He raises his eyebrows. "What is 'zing' if not funny?"

I falter.Drop dead sexiness hidden behind Clark Kent glasses. Nice boy in the streets and dirty-talking lover in the sheets.

"I don't know. What is this, English class? I'm bad at English, don't test my vocabulary please."

He laughs. "Don't worry. Turns out I'm the math teacher," he says, pointing to his chest.

"Ah," I say, nodding. "Of course. How could I ever forget?"

He rounds the desk, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he gestures down the hallway to the garage. "The kids finished decorating the float yesterday. I figured, if it's cool with you, we can go ahead and use today to clean up the mess they left."

I raise my eyebrows. "Is it really that bad?"

He shakes his head. "No. But the huts are all done so I had to get creative when I was thinking things up for us to do today."

"So cleaning it is," I say.

He shrugs. "Unless you can think of something better to do?"

I nearly scoff at the very obvious answer.

But I press my lips together and shake my head instead.

Something tells me he wouldn't be amused if I asked him whether boinking the math teacher could count toward my hours.

The garage is not particularlymessy, and I get the feeling that Nick is really scraping the bottom of the barrel when I see that 'the mess' he was referring to can be taken care of with a quick sweep of a broom.

I blink as I take in the bits of tinsel on the ground. The few plastic wrappings that once held ornaments that are now affixed to the sides of the float. I pick one piece up, turning to face Nick with a grin, and walk it very slowly toward the trash can.

"So can I ask what other options were brewing in your head for tonight?" I ask, as I head toward the wall that holds the cleaning equipment. A broom stacked against the wall, a mop that we likely won't need for this project.

He sighs, straightening a bit of tinsel on the float, and leans back against it.

"Well, I asked Mrs. Nguyen if she had anything we could do in the library," he starts, watching as I drag the broom toward him. "She had nothing but praise for our computer updates, but unfortunately nothing to add to our to-do list." I stop in front of him, resting my hands on the top of the broom and leaning against the float like he is. "I asked Hank if he had any troubled youths we could corral into a game night."

I grimace. Forcing teenagers to play board games soundshorrible."You did?"

He nods. "And Hank made a very similar face. Said if I wanted to herd cats and do experiments on them, he has a few strays hiding out in his barn."

I snort. "Thank god. That sounded horrible."

"I evenlookedfor kids who were misbehaving during school so I could give out a detention."

I cock my head to the side. "How would that have given us something to do? Then there would bethreeof us cleaning up this tiny mess."

He clears his throat, pushing his glasses up onto his head and running his hands over his face. "Ah, you're right. I guess I was looking for any sort of distraction. Or inspiration, I guess I should say."

He shakes his head.

I narrow my eyes."Distraction?"

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