Least Likely to Fall in Love Page 5

  “Okay, good to know.” He squeezed the steering wheel and told himself not to ask any more questions. Maddie could talk to him about whatever she wanted, but there was no need to tell him everything.

  She turned her phone over and over, a new habit she did without realizing when she was working something out in her head. “So, you and Principal Mason have some history you haven’t told me about.” Ryan jerked to a halt at a stop sign. “Spill it. Were you asking about her because you were secretly in love with her or something?”

  He shook his head. “We graduated together. I thought she was…cute. The end.” But he didn’t meet her stare as he said it. He couldn’t. He’d always had the hardest time keeping the truth from her. That’s why she’d been the second kid in third grade to know that Santa wasn’t real. He just couldn’t lie quickly enough.

  Maddie tried to sound casual as she said, “Principal Mason said there was an art project that I could help out with down at the field house this weekend. Are you still planning to go and help out with Project Teach the Bullies a Lesson?”

  Before he eased his foot off the brake, Ryan searched her face for a minute. “Yeah. Seems like it might be a good idea.”

  Maddie stared out the window. “Well, I mean, it’s not every day one of your teachers recommends you for a project, you know?”

  “True.” She was a good student, but being singled out for recognition this way for her art was new.

  “You don’t think there’ll be any…problem or anything, do you? If I go? With Rob or Blake or their parents?”

  Ryan snorted. “That I can guarantee. You want to help, you can help. They won’t say anything but ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to you.”

  Maddie twisted her fingers in the edge of her loose T-shirt. “Then I’m going to go. Principal Mason will like that.”

  As he pulled into the driveway, he asked, “Like her, do you?”

  When the garage door slid down, Maddie opened the truck door and slid out. “I appreciate that she’s trying to help, even though I’m pretty sure I could have taken care of myself on my own.” She bit her lip. “She showed me her yearbook this afternoon. It wasn’t an easy thing for her to do.”

  The panic Ryan had felt when she’d mentioned their history flared again. He hoped she missed whatever clever shot he’d written in the back. He couldn’t remember it. He just knew it had to be there.

  “Going to run, then hit the shower. Pizza for dinner?” He paused on the bottom step to wait for her answer. When she waved and said, “I’ll order it in half an hour,” he jogged up the stairs. Trying to imagine where his yearbook might be, he decided he ought to make finding and destroying it a higher priority. The fewer reminders he had, the better.

  Chapter Four

  Annoyed with herself and her inability to keep her mind off of one handsome thorn in her side, Lindy pummeled the punching bag with fast, hard jabs. When she couldn’t breathe any more, she shoved the punching bag out of the way and staggered over to pick up a towel and her water bottle. After a few gasps, she managed to say “Why can’t you go for treadmills like all other personal trainers?” She swiped the towel over her forehead to keep the sweat from running into her eyes and then chugged enough water that she felt a slosh in her stomach as she collapsed on the mat.

  Her best friend folded her legs into a lotus position as she sat next to her and hummed serenely. “You are welcome to hit the treadmill now, but I guarantee running will never match the way punching feels.”

  Lindy closed her eyes and panted for air. “Let’s see. That’s got to be some special Buddhist philosophy, right?”

  “Nope, I came up with that one all on my own.” Allison inhaled deeply and then exhaled slowly. “Do you doubt me, grasshopper?”

  “Never.” Lindy might feel like she’d been hit by a steamroller at the end of every session, but she could not argue with results. She flexed the limp noodles that had replaced both arms and knew they’d be satisfactorily cut in the morning. Allison was good at her job, even if she was also evil. “Thanks for meeting me here. I know you had other plans.”

  “Nothing that couldn’t be rescheduled. I’m guessing it was a rough day.” She never pushed and Lindy was reminded again how close personal training was to therapy.

  “It was you or a gallon of rocky road.” Lindy would have shrugged but she was just too damn tired. “And I might still go for the ice cream.”

  Allison didn’t answer. Instead she rolled into a headstand, perfectly still and patient.

  “Admit it. You do that to piss me off.” She’d been the klutz of their group, but since high school, Allison had taken all those spastic tendencies and become the stillest pond of self-control.

  “Either tell me what happened or go eat your ice cream.” And that was the thing. Allison would wait for her timing. If the roles were reversed, Lindy would have had Allison pinned to the mat while she waited impatiently.

  Add to that Lindy had called her away from a hot date with the town’s most eligible bachelor, a new relationship that meant she’d seen a whole lot less of her best friend lately, and Lindy was reminded why Allison would be her first nomination for sainthood.

  “Ryan Myers came into my office this week.” She watched closely but Allison didn’t even twitch. Unbelievable. “And I had to be all…mature. Handle an issue with his daughter and some other kids with clear thinking and wise solutions.”

  Allison calmly returned to the mat and stretched. “And how did that make you feel?”

  “Gah.” It was too much sometimes. “Angry. Awkward. I was seventeen again and everyone was watching me while I read an obnoxious note about how all the boys in the bathroom were talking about my breasts. Like hitting something, so I came here instead of the frozen foods aisle.”

  “But you aren’t seventeen anymore.”

  “I never hit anything when I was seventeen. I like hitting things. I should have tried it sooner.”

  Allison snorted. “You’re welcome.”

  “Oh, great enlightened one, tell me what to do about this fine mess.”

  “Why do you have to do anything? The situation is handled, right?”

  “Well, mostly. I’m going to be talking with his daughter, trying to make sure she’s not dealing with the emotions fifteen years later by hitting things or drowning her sorrows.”

  Allison just nodded.

  “And there’s this burning urge to get so even with him that he’ll remember me the way I remembered him, with fear and loathing.”

  “Fear and loathing? Wow. I sorta thought we’d worked through that.” Allison whistled. “But not his daughter, right?”

  “Okay, fear and loathing is a little strong, especially now that I can circle like a butterfly and punch like a bee. I used to remember those notes and the way all of his toadies would guffaw at whatever he said when I passed them in the hallway to keep up the punching, but today…it was different. And I don’t have to be afraid of any bully any longer.” Something loosened inside and Lindy wondered if she’d secretly been afraid of what might happen if she was ever in the same spot again. She flexed tired muscles. If she had to, she could defend herself verbally and physically this time around.

  Allison patted herself on the back. “Again, you’re welcome. I will remind you the next time you whine about wanting to try water aerobics instead.”

  Lindy laughed. Allison was a great trainer, but she was an even better friend, the kind who knew what she needed and insisted she try, no matter how hard it was. Being with her for ten minutes did more good than a gallon of ice cream. Looking good in yoga pants and being able to break a nose if she had to without breaking her fingers had freed her of a lot of the high school baggage.

  “And no, not his daughter. She’s a sweet kid. Her, I want to help. I can’t imagine trying to navigate high school without a mother.” Lindy crunched her empty water bottle. “After I’ve seen the way he is with her, I don’t hate him as much either.”

  Allison’s Zen s
tate of calm slipped a bit and her eyebrows shot up. “Well, now, that I didn’t expect. He’s a good dad?”

  “A great dad.” Lindy huffed out her disgust and yanked a towel over her face. “It’s so unfair. A man who looks that good and is an awesome, caring, single dad? He’s like free chocolate, you know? How are you supposed to resist?”

  “Free chocolate.” Allison yanked the towel away, stood, and then offered Lindy a hand to pull her up. “That’s powerful stuff right there.”

  As she shoved everything in her gym bag, Lindy said, “Sure, and the only thing to do about free chocolate is to stay far, far away.”

  “You know, you’re different now.” Allison flipped off the lights to the small studio she’d opened just for Lindy. “It makes sense he’s changed, too. Treat him like a new acquaintance instead of an old enemy.”

  Lindy followed Allison out the front door. “Or I could make him suffer, now that I have the chance.”

  “Lindy, there are many things you are good at.” Allison patted her on the shoulder. “You and I both know you’d be a dismal failure at revenge. And if you were successful, you’d worry over it the rest of your life.”

  She was right. Damn it. “Then avoidance is the key.”

  “Because you’re attracted to him.” Allison’s smile was in no way enlightened. It was smirky, amused, and evil. “Admit it. This wouldn’t have caused a ripple in your life, much less a voluntary workout, if he was as attractive as gum on the bottom of your shoe.”

  Lindy frowned. “What about logic? Reason? Being a smart woman who avoids dumb things? A good best friend would be the calm voice that keeps me from making mistakes.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Pay attention.” Allison held up her hand to tick off her points. “What about closure? Or satisfaction? Or making yourself happy? Seizing the day and the opportunities in it? Or love?” She opened her car door. Before she slid inside, she said, “Free chocolate doesn’t come around every day.”

  Lindy closed her eyes for a second then waved good-bye. “Fine. Rocky road it is, Zen master. I have some thinking to avoid.” Guilt-free ice cream was the best ice cream.

  Lindy was afraid spending any time with Ryan Myers would feel a lot more like a guilty pleasure than chocolate ice cream goodness.

  ***

  After a long night, Lindy was still pretty sure avoiding Ryan was the best plan. She’d had a lot of experience with free chocolate. Every holiday meant piles of the stuff from students, parents, and coworkers. Free chocolate would call and call until it was all gone.

  Since Ryan was not going anywhere, she was in deep trouble. But after a conversation with Coach Ford, she was approaching the chocolate danger zone anyway. Coach wanted her approval on his improvements.

  Her desire to avoid Ryan had warred with her curiosity over Maddie and her art project, so she’d agreed to drop in while everyone was working. And she was depending on the audience to keep her chocolate urges under control.

  As she parked in the lot near the football field, Lindy second-guessed her crazy impulse. “This is a punishment, not a party.” But she was here already. And she had the pizza already. And Coach Ford was heading her direction already.

  Apparently, she was committed.

  Or should be.

  “Well, Principal Mason, thanks for stopping in to help me crack the whip.” When he stopped and propped his hands on his hips, Lindy wondered how often anyone saw Coach Ford without his Lincoln Lions hat. She had seen it exactly once. He’d worn a suit and tie to the school board interview she’d sat in on and looked like he might have been an accountant in another life. Today he was the perfect picture of a tough but fair coach, the kind that they make inspirational movies about.

  That made it easy to deal with Coach Ford every day and completely plausible that she’d check in on detention. “No way, Coach. I have no doubt you have the situation under control. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was coming off pretty well with all this free labor and your time, so I brought pizza, too.” She slid out of the car and slammed the door before she walked around to the back. “Can you help me carry it inside?”

  He snorted. “I can do better.” He pulled a whistle up and blew twice in shrill blasts. At first, nothing happened, and Lindy wondered if that’s how football coaches got motivated, but then Rob and Blake, their fathers, and Ryan Myers walked around the bleachers, all headed her direction.

  “All right, men, Principal Mason has done us a huge favor and brought in lunch. Let’s take a break.” He pointed at the tiny car and said, “Unload.”

  Lindy lifted the hatch and then got out of the way. Before she knew what was happening, the pizzas were walking away and Rob and Blake were carrying the small cooler filled with ice and bottled water that she’d thrown in at the last minute.

  She really sucked at harsh punishment. The unseasonably warm weather had her convinced they were dehydrating as they served detention.

  Lindy had to hustle to keep up. By the time she made it into the tiny conference room in the field house, males of varying heights and ages were leaving it, their hands filled with piled plates and bottles. “Thanks, Principal Mason” was mumbled more than once. Or at least that’s what she thought they were saying. Could have been something a lot less friendly. She was going to go with her first choice.

  She grabbed the last plate and the last slice of cheese pizza before she sat next to Maddie. “Hey, you decided to come. I’m glad.” She patted Maddie’s shoulder as she tried to place what was different. After a minute, Lindy realized she could actually see Maddie’s eyes. The eyeliner was gone. Lindy knew better than to comment on it.

  Maddie shot a look at the boy seated at the end of the table before she answered, “Yes, ma’am. I’m happy to have the chance to help.”

  Lindy looked from Maddie down to Eric Swenson, a last minute detention addition she’d made when he was caught smoking in the bathroom during third period on Friday. He hadn’t been happy then. He seemed marginally more so now. She hesitated to ask Coach Ford what he thought about the situation.

  “Eric, how’s it going today?” She took a bite of her pizza and wondered if he’d even answer. They had a history. She tried to help. He fought every minute of it. Since she’d had the pleasure of meeting with his parents, Lindy thought smoking in the bathroom was his subtle way of grabbing some attention.

  He shrugged. “Not too bad.”

  She watched Maddie and Eric not look at each other. It was painful, mainly because she couldn’t laugh.

  “So what’s everybody working on?” She and Maddie both stared at Eric.

  When he didn’t answer, Maddie shook her head. “Eric’s painting the walls in the locker room. And Coach has asked me to paint in a lion and some of these…sayings he’s got. Everybody else is outside working.”

  Lindy studied Maddie’s face while she ate. She didn’t seem too upset about the setup, but Lindy made a mental note to ask her without an audience if she was okay. Eric had never been too bad or violent, but she’d hate for this to be the first time.

  They ate in silence until Maddie balled up her napkin. When she turned to Eric and asked, “Ready to go back to work?” Lindy decided not to worry so much about this situation.

  Of course, she might need to give Ryan a heads-up that he could be facing his first foray into Maddie and boys soon.

  She thought about that for a minute. Nah. He could work his way through that by himself. Obviously, he’d been a teenage boy. He ought to know the dangers better than she did.

  She followed them into the locker room to see blinding white walls on two sides. Eric had picked up his roller to work on the third wall while Maddie had climbed a ladder to finish filling in the outline of a huge lion head. “Wow, Maddie, that’s great. Did you do that freehand?”

  She blushed. “Coach said he was happy with the outline before I moved forward.”

  Lindy nodded. “And good job on the walls, Eric.” He just grunted and kept rolling.
Maddie shot him a glance before she bobbled her own brush filled with bright red paint.

  Deciding she didn’t need to be the audience for a horrible paint catastrophe or teenagers in love, Lindy walked back out to the field. On one side, Rob and Blake were bagging trash under the bleachers while their fathers worked the lawn mower and trimmer along the field’s outside track. Amateurs would never touch Coach’s field, but he was taking full advantage of this help to get some of the more neglected areas up to snuff.

  When she walked around the field house, she could see Ryan in the midst of a large stack of trash cans. The click and whoosh of spray paint cans was clear even from where she stood. Apparently, he was on trash can duty. She was just about to duck back around the corner when he turned his head and waved.

  Gritting her teeth, Lindy ordered herself to be coolly professional and walked over.

  She stopped far out of the line of fire. “How did you get trash can duty?”

  He slid his sunglasses up into his messy perfect hair before he smiled at her. Just like that she was seventeen again, weak in the knees over a handsome face.

  “Coach asked me what I’d like to do. The lesser of the evils was painting trash cans. So here I am.” He raised an eyebrow. “Need a job? I could use an assistant.”

  She pointed at his hand. It was devil red. “No way. I’d insist on gloves. Are you crazy? You’ll have a red hand for days now.”

  He jerked his head to motion at a pile on the grass. “Had gloves. Didn’t think I’d need ’em, so you are more than welcome to slip them on.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “So, you were…what, too tough for gloves?”

  He grimaced. “Couldn’t have been too smart, now could it?”

  As much as she didn’t want to, she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

  She walked over to the pile. “What’s the white for?” There was no way she was doing this. Of course not. She was just here to supervise. But he was watching her. She had to do something. Activity and busy-ness had always been her defense.