Page 4 of A Better Place

CHAPTER ONE

Carly

Three years later

“Ms. Hanson! Ms. Hanson! Look at my purple cast! Isn’t it beautiful!?” Harper Ryan’s adorably sweet and cartoon-like voice sounds from behind me.

I gasp as I spin around with wide eyes to find the feisty six-year-old beaming from ear-to-ear with a bright purple cast — or what must be purple but has so many signatures on it already that it looks like it’s been covered in graffiti.

“Harper! What happened?!”

Jack came home from the Ryan’s house last night and told me what happened. His buddy, Grady, Harper’s older brother, is on Jack’s football team. He’s a year older but has become a good friend to Jack. And, from the sounds of it, not only Grady and his older brother Cole, but his friends and teammates are more than a tad protective over Harper, the youngest of the four Ryan children, having known her since she was born. He also told me that Harper gave him a very stern warning not to say anything because she wanted to be able to tell me, but he was worried about her and wanted me to know going into my day. I’m so glad my acting skills are good enough for a first grader because hearing her side of it is just perfection.

“I was riding my horse, Shadow, and all of a sudden BAM!” She claps her hands together loudly, making the other kids turn and look our way. “I was on the ground. I don’t even know what happened! But guess what? I was so brave. I hardly even cried and didn’t get scared one single bit!”

“No way! It does sound like you were very brave! Where did you get all that bravery from? Do you have a magic potion?”

“You’re funny, Ms. Hanson. It’s not magic at all! My daddy says it’s from him, but my mama says he’s a big baby compared to her because he totally chickened out when she wanted to go on this big rollercoaster. She wasn’t scared, so I think it must come from her. ‘The Coles are brave,’ is what mommy says.”

“I’m gonna have to side with Tess on that one.” A deep voice cuts in, causing me to spin around once again.

I almost swallow my tongue because, holy crap, Captain America is standing in my classroom. The bluest irises I’ve ever seen assault me but that’s not all my greedy eyes take in. I’ve never been a fan of tattoos. They make me think bad boy and well… bad boys make me think of Vince. But this? Him? That!?! I can honestly say I have to close my mouth to stop from gaping at him. Am I drooling? The scruffy beard covering his face has me clenching my fists to stop from reaching out and running my fingers through it. Or, you know, licking it.

He’s wearing a black short-sleeve shirt tight enough that I can see the muscles bulging out from under the fabric, tattoos running down his arm creating a sleeve that has my mouth watering. A bright blue The North Face puffy vest, a pair of faded jeans that hug his muscular thighs, and black boots complete a perfect package. The entire thing shouldn’t work for me as well as it does, but as I do my embarrassing once-over, checking. Him. Out. In. The. Middle. Of my first-grade classroom, I realize it totally works.

Well, goodbye, dignity. It’s been nice having you around.

Embarrassing doesn’t even cover it.

But confusing does.

I’ve barely glanced twice at another man in so many years, I almost forgot what attraction and interest in another person feels like. And worse yet, despite my efforts to stop gawking, I can’t.

The moment my brain finally decides to catch up with the rest of me, my face immediately erupts in flames. Hot guy has to notice it, and by the way his lip is twitching as he gazes back at me, there’s no mistaking that he has.

I look away, hoping to shake myself out of the trance, and when I finally gain the courage to look his way again, I extend my hand and make my way in his direction to introduce myself, but the mild embarrassment I felt moments ago over staring at him? Gone. It catapulted directly into mortification.

My shoes were obviously a big hindrance, being TOMS and all, and I trip over a carpet square, careening directly toward him. Given the fact that my hand was already extended, the chain of events just seems to go from bad to worse. Next thing I know, my cheek is firmly pressed into his chest, and my right hand is… well, let’s just say that it’s suddenly somewhere the guidance counselor strictly forbids in the classroom.

“Goodness! Oh my. No — no, no. I’m so sorry!”

He grunts but wraps his arm around me lightly, likely to hold himself from crippling over in pain. I retract my hand quickly and cover my face, but for some reason I will go to my grave not understanding, my cheek is still pressed against his chest.

“Are you… oh my gosh… are you okay? I’m so sorry. Beyond sorry. I can’t even.” I finally stand myself back upright and tug on the black sleeves of my long-sleeve shirt and worry the corner of my bottom lip.

“I’m… fine,” he croaks, his eyes moving over my face, landing on my lips for a second longer than appropriate.

“Are you sure? Do you need… um… ice or something?” I ask him, my hand on my forehead. I want to crawl in a corner and cover up with a blanket.

He rubs his hand over his face as he stands to his full height and smiles lightly. “I’m positive.”

“I’m so…” I begin, but he puts his hand up to stop me.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He seems to be waiting for me to believe him. He raises his eyebrows and reaches for my hand then squeezes it just once before dropping it. “I mean it. I’m fine. It was an accident. No harm. No foul.”

I stare at him for a few moments, seeing only sincerity in his eyes. I blink once, look away. Blink again and look back at him. I smile then roll my lips together and blow out a breath.

“Hi, I’m Ms. Hanson. You are?” I have a feeling I know who he is. Harper hasn’t stopped bragging about her Uncle James all week. I knew her parents, Barrett and Tess Ryan, were taking an impromptu vacation in some cabin in Northern Michigan, and Tess’s brother was watching the kids while they were gone, because kids tell their teachers everything. And I mean everything. Granted we know only a small percentage of it is based on truth, but still, parents be warned. We hear more than anyone can possibly imagine.

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