Page 16 of Christmas with the Baby Daddy

“It sounds like I might be able to help you, Mr. Ameena.”

“Oh, yeah?”

I introduced myself and explained that I was looking for some light-duty work to keep me busy.

“Zach West! That’s right. You graduated a year ahead of me.”

I laughed. “I guess I shouldn’t worry about being too formal and calling you Mr. Ameena, then.”

“Nah. It’s not that formal here. I didn’t realize you’d come back home.”

“It’s… new,” I said, hating the uneasiness of saying that aloud. I was supposed to be a soldier until old age hit me. “And I’m not entirely certain that I’ll remain in Vernford long-term.”

“Cool. I hear ya. But if you’re serious about helping out while you are in town, that would be a Christmas miracle coming true.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

I will never be anyone’s miracle.

“I am. Mr. Benson’s been needing more time off with his hips. And getting over pneumonia. He’s been scared about having to retire, but I think it’s imminent. It’s not in the budget to replace him when he’s still off this much time. I was thinking he’d change his mind after the holidays and retire, but until then, it would be great to have even part-time help to fill the gaps he’s leaving us right now. Can you come in for an interview tomorrow afternoon?”

“Sure.”Not like I have anything else going on—ever.

“If you give me your email, I’ll send you the links about the part-time job. Don’t worry about the benefits part if you can only be here for a short while. I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“All right.” I provided him with my email address, and then he mentioned the requirements like a background check and whatnot.

“But that won’t be an issue for you,” he joked.

“Thanks, Cole,” I said at the end of the call. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When the time came for my interview with him, I realized that I might need to reschedule it. Cole was clearly a man in demand.

“Have a seat,” the receptionist, Sara, said. She seemed flustered as she gestured at a chair after I told her that I was here to speak with the principal. Tall with a peppy smile, she didn’t seem like one of those easily flustered individuals. I didn’t get the vibe that she was shy or timid. Perhaps she was merely irritated with the other occupants waiting to speak to the principal.

One boy with blond hair glared and cussed under his breath at another, slimmer and shorter boy. He flicked his black hair back and turned to face the other wall in a stubborn refusal of making eye contact with the taller one. Animosity sparked in the air between them. Between their angry expressions and attitudes, it didn’t take me long to deduce that they had likely been called in here for fighting.

“You’re gonna regret this, George,” the blond sneered.

George didn’t react, defiantly not making eye contact.

“Hey, bastard. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Sara stood from her receptionist desk. “Brent, watch your language.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Brent sassed, giving her the finger.

She pressed her lips together and glanced in the direction of the closed door with the anchored sign that readPrincipal Ameena.Behind the wooden panel, raised voices reached us out here.

“Ignore him, Sara,” George calmly told the receptionist. “That’s what my mom says. Ignore bullies.”

“She sounds like a smart woman,” I told him.

George turned then, peering at me.

“No, she’s not. His mom’s a dumb bi?—”

Sara slapped her hand to the desk and stood. Narrowing her eyes, she raised one finger at Brent.

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