Read Online Straddling the Line by Sarah M. Anderson - Free Book Online
Authors: Sarah M. Anderson
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they’d be happy to build for a small fortune. But this bike was different. It had a vintage sensibility to it, with clean lines, a shiny gray body and normal-looking handlebars. Nothing like what was on his company’s website, but very much Ben.
She looked from the motorcycle to the man. He was watching her. She cleared her throat. “Would you like to see a classroom?” Because they had only one that was done.
He fell into step with her. “What about you?”
She tensed. “What about me?”
“Do you have a problem with white people? With me?”
“With you being white? No.”
He chuckled. “But you do have a problem with me.”
Gosh, wouldn’t it be nice if her mouth kept up with her brain? Yeah, she had a problem with him. More specifically, she had a problem with him just showing up when she least expected him. What next—he’d come to the house while she was in the shower?
She didn’t want to admit that the white thing could be part of the problem. The way everyone—from Don on down—had reacted to Ben’s mere existence made it perfectly clear that even entertaining the fantasy of another kiss would be fatal to her reputation within the tribe. She’d worked too hard to throw her place away on hot kisses.
She didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she cleared her throat and headed for Jenny’s classroom. She was a professional, darn it. “This is our first-and second-grade room. Do you remember Jenny Wahwasuck? This is her classroom.” She turned to look at Ben.
He was still standing in the doorway—filling it, really. He knocked on the drywall, flipped the overhead lights on and off, opened and shut the door.
She could just look at the man. He looked very much like he had when she’d first seen him—same belt, same boots, dark jeans, button-down shirt—but there was something different about him.
She couldn’t put her finger on it until he turned those eyes to her. The danger—oh, he was still a dangerous man. But the only thing she was in danger of was losing her head.
He took a step into the room—just the one, but it sent ripples of energy around the small room. She realized that he’d shut the door. The sound of girls painting was a muffled waterfall of giggling in the background. “How many classrooms?” Another step. His jaw flexed, and she saw the cords in his neck tense.
Huh? What? Classrooms? “Um, four. Two grades in each.”
“And when does it open?” He was only four steps away from her now—maybe three. He had long legs. Long, muscled legs.
“Twenty-three days.” All she could do was watch him close the distance. All those muscles…
“Who’s paying the teachers’ salaries?”
The conversation was all business. The look in his eye was anything but. This couldn’t be foreplay—could it?
“Mom and me—we manage the trust fund my grandfather left. We pay the salaries.”
A confused look flashed across his face—not that it slowed him down any. “Kind of a funny feeling, isn’t it?” He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair off her forehead. “Having someone you’re not sure you’re ever going to see again show up in a place you didn’t think anyone could find?” His fingertips didn’t leave her face. They curved around her cheek and lifted her face toward his.
She swallowed. The intensity in his eyes was paralyzing her. “I can see how it would be unsettling.”
“I told you I’d find you after the show.” His breath danced over her ear and took its time rolling down the back of her neck. Her skin broke out in goose bumps. “I looked for you.”
She couldn’t possibly let him kiss her, not in the first-and second-grade room. “Technically, this is still after the show. And I told you, I don’t do one-night stands.” She swallowed down her—what? Nerves? Desire? Both? “I don’t screw guys I don’t know.”
“Hmm.” His lips touched her cheek. The move was surprisingly gentle, even though his stubble pricked her face.
She looked from the motorcycle to the man. He was watching her. She cleared her throat. “Would you like to see a classroom?” Because they had only one that was done.
He fell into step with her. “What about you?”
She tensed. “What about me?”
“Do you have a problem with white people? With me?”
“With you being white? No.”
He chuckled. “But you do have a problem with me.”
Gosh, wouldn’t it be nice if her mouth kept up with her brain? Yeah, she had a problem with him. More specifically, she had a problem with him just showing up when she least expected him. What next—he’d come to the house while she was in the shower?
She didn’t want to admit that the white thing could be part of the problem. The way everyone—from Don on down—had reacted to Ben’s mere existence made it perfectly clear that even entertaining the fantasy of another kiss would be fatal to her reputation within the tribe. She’d worked too hard to throw her place away on hot kisses.
She didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she cleared her throat and headed for Jenny’s classroom. She was a professional, darn it. “This is our first-and second-grade room. Do you remember Jenny Wahwasuck? This is her classroom.” She turned to look at Ben.
He was still standing in the doorway—filling it, really. He knocked on the drywall, flipped the overhead lights on and off, opened and shut the door.
She could just look at the man. He looked very much like he had when she’d first seen him—same belt, same boots, dark jeans, button-down shirt—but there was something different about him.
She couldn’t put her finger on it until he turned those eyes to her. The danger—oh, he was still a dangerous man. But the only thing she was in danger of was losing her head.
He took a step into the room—just the one, but it sent ripples of energy around the small room. She realized that he’d shut the door. The sound of girls painting was a muffled waterfall of giggling in the background. “How many classrooms?” Another step. His jaw flexed, and she saw the cords in his neck tense.
Huh? What? Classrooms? “Um, four. Two grades in each.”
“And when does it open?” He was only four steps away from her now—maybe three. He had long legs. Long, muscled legs.
“Twenty-three days.” All she could do was watch him close the distance. All those muscles…
“Who’s paying the teachers’ salaries?”
The conversation was all business. The look in his eye was anything but. This couldn’t be foreplay—could it?
“Mom and me—we manage the trust fund my grandfather left. We pay the salaries.”
A confused look flashed across his face—not that it slowed him down any. “Kind of a funny feeling, isn’t it?” He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair off her forehead. “Having someone you’re not sure you’re ever going to see again show up in a place you didn’t think anyone could find?” His fingertips didn’t leave her face. They curved around her cheek and lifted her face toward his.
She swallowed. The intensity in his eyes was paralyzing her. “I can see how it would be unsettling.”
“I told you I’d find you after the show.” His breath danced over her ear and took its time rolling down the back of her neck. Her skin broke out in goose bumps. “I looked for you.”
She couldn’t possibly let him kiss her, not in the first-and second-grade room. “Technically, this is still after the show. And I told you, I don’t do one-night stands.” She swallowed down her—what? Nerves? Desire? Both? “I don’t screw guys I don’t know.”
“Hmm.” His lips touched her cheek. The move was surprisingly gentle, even though his stubble pricked her face.
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