relax. He managed a full breath before saying, with pretend concern, “Did you just say ‘dumb-ass kid’?”
“I, uh...”
“Is that how you talk to my son and your other students?”
She raised her chin. “Sometimes. When they need to hear it. Look, Mr. Hendrix, this is a dangerous sport and there has to be complete discipline. I work with military experts and trained assassins. I also work with civilians and every now and then I forget who has delicate sensibilities and who doesn’t. If that gets your panties in a twist, then I’m probably not the best instructor for Reese.”
“My panties in a twist?”
She flushed. “I probably shouldn’t have said that, either.”
“Probably not.”
He folded his arms across his chest, aware that he was much taller than her. Not that it would help him in any kind of altercation. He was a math teacher and she was a... He realized he had no idea what she’d done before she’d moved to Fool’s Gold to work for CDS.
Regardless, he felt a little less out of control.
She looked up at him. “Reese is good. He’s athletic and coordinated. Does he have that incredible talent that comes along once in a generation? No. Sure, he could get his black belt and he probably will. But to give up everything else to focus on this?” She shrugged. “I’d make him wait a year and see if it’s still what he wants to do. Maybe add one more class a week. He’s a kid—he should have fun, not make a lifestyle choice.”
“I appreciate the advice.”
“It’s worth what you paid for.” She shifted on her feet. “Are you mad about what I said?”
“Will you hurt me if I say yes?”
It took her a second to realize he was kidding; then the smile returned. So did the sensation of being kicked in the gut. So much for being in control.
“I’m not good with parents,” she admitted. “I’ve gotten used to saying what I think.”
“Threatening people, and when that doesn’t work, beating the crap out of them?”
The smile broadened. “Exactly. Civilized conversation is highly overrated.”
“I agree. Unfortunately, I don’t have the freedom you do to say what I think.”
As soon as he made the statement, he saw the danger of it. Whatever connection he’d established with her was about to disintegrate like cotton candy in the rain.
She tilted her head and her layered, dark, shiny hair slipped over one shoulder. “You’re a math teacher, right?”
“In high school.”
She laughed softly and then put her hand on his forearm. He felt the heat of her touch clear down to his groin. “You’re far more brave than I could ever be. Teaching teenagers math.”
At least she hadn’t run screaming into another room. “Not just math. Algebra and geometry. Calculus.”
Her expression flashed with an emotion he couldn’t read. She withdrew her hand. “Tough gig,” she murmured.
He knew something had shifted, but he couldn’t say what. Why was she okay with him being a math teacher yet she retreated when he’d mentioned the specifics?
“I like it,” he admitted. “I like my kids and I know what they learn in my class can help them later in life. I have a special program for underachieving students. To bring them up to grade and convince them they can go to college.”
He told himself to stop talking—that he sounded like the neighborhood nerd showing off his homemade rocket.
“A worthy goal,” she said and took a step back.
A clear dismissal, he thought grimly, knowing he’d never had a chance and wondering where he’d gone so very wrong.
“I appreciate your time,” he said. “Thanks for the advice.”
“You’re welcome. He’s a great kid. You’re obviously a good dad.”
Kent nodded and left. As he walked to his car, he was conscious of the irony of the situation. After years of thinking he was still desperately in love with his ex-wife, despite the fact that she’d left him, he’d finally been willing to admit the truth. That she had abandoned