Page 22 of Smoke Show

I pulled back, surprised. "Why's that?"

She arched one graceful silver brow. "Who do you think Brady would have arm-twisted into helping him with the play if it weren't for you? I'm forever grateful."

We chatted amicably as I got her settled, discussing the design she'd chosen. A red poppy for remembrance, with a date in December scrawled beneath it. She didn’t mention the significance of the date, and I didn’t push.

Matty was lovely and engaging, and I enjoyed talking with her while I worked. At the end of our session, I'd completed the outline for her tattoo.

"Shall we set up another appointment for next week so I can work on the shading?" I asked.

Matty nodded, almost girlish in her excitement. "Yes, please. Thanks, Eve, I'll see you next week."

With a jaunty wave, Matty left, the doorbell tinkling after her.

I'd kept to innocuous topics, using the subjects in my small talk arsenal to keep her from focusing too much on what I was doing with my tattoo gun. It had been tempting to grill her about Brady, but I didn't want to tip my hand too early. He and I were just testing the waters, I didn't need to go full Pendelton and involve his family. There'd be time to get to know Matty if Brady and I found we could make it work as a couple.

I greeted my next client, losing myself in my work until five. Stretching as I finished for the day, I wished Travis, a goodnight and cleaned up my station before heading for the high school.

Anticipation over seeing Brady made me stride faster, until my pace resembled something close to a run. It helped that it was frigid as balls outside and dark clouds overhead threatened snow.

"Where's the fire?" Mr. Martinez, the town librarian, called out after I almost collided with him at the corner, sliding on a hidden patch of ice.

"Sorry, Mr. Martinez." I slowed, shaking my head. Arriving in one piece was more important than getting there faster, but I was keenly aware that I was already late.

Grinning, I tried to imagine the punishment my favorite principal might dish out if I were late again. Yeah. Lusting after him wasdefinitelya sickness.

I slowed to a saunter as I pushed through the heavy double doors to join the cast. Brady glanced up from the circle of students reading scripts, glaring from me to his watch with a frown, but I just smiled and shrugged.

He'd learn to love me late or not at all. Something about the slow way he perused me, taking in my dark hair in its messy bun, the tight red sweater and painted-on jeans, made me think I'd have him forgetting all about his schedule in no time. Hell, even if I hadn't had a client until five, arriving late would have been tempting. Brady was just too easy to needle. I loved riling him up. Probably because it eased some of the sexual tension. Maybe his show of disapproval wasn't the response I really wanted from him, but any kind of emotion felt like a win from the usually cool man.

"Ms. Pendleton."

The dark timbre of his voice, the hint of disapproval, turned me on. I'd never suspected I had an authority kink, until Brady turned his honey brown gaze my way with the tiny frown between his brows.Hot.

Fanning myself, I winked. "Trust me, Principal Gleason, I practically ran here."

He gestured toward my stage crew, dismissing me, and I shuffled to my students at the back of the stage.

"Hey, gang," I said easily.

"Hi, Ms. Pendleton," Mitch and Grace chorused, grinning madly.

"What?" I asked, glancing from Grace to Mitch, suspicious.

"Jenny Masterson showed up late, and Principal Gleason sent her to empty the trash cans. He li-kes you."

Student sleuths: one. Brady and I keeping things on the down-low: zero. We couldn't manage to keep our feelings under wraps for five fucking minutes. Granted, with their teenage hormones, Mitch and Grace could probably scent my crush on him a mile away, butstill. I shook my head. We were the adults. Masking our attraction, at least in front of our students, shouldn’t bethathard.

I cleared my throat. "Bull. I'm an adult volunteer with other job responsibilities. Speaking of responsibilities, let's get to work."

Together, we outlined the set piece we needed to build, tracing the design on a sheet of plywood. I snapped my hearing protection on, plugging in the Sawzall. In my rush to leave the shop, I'd forgotten my gloves. Focusing on cutting our design with my saw, I missed the sharp splinter until it slid beneath my palm.

"Ah!"

Cursing, I shut off my saw, examining my hand.

Dammit.

A good-sized chunk had pierced my skin. It was going to hurt like a mother to pull it out.

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