Craft (The Gibson Boys 2)

“Lance?” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Take your curiosity out of my office.”

A low rumble courses from his throat as he twists his lips in amusement. “I’m about to take—”

We both jump, Lance clamoring to his feet as I shove away from my desk at the sound of a knock. The door is semi-closed, but Tish’s head pokes through the small opening. “Am I interrupting something here?”

“No,” I say, running a hand through the air. “Mr. Gibson was just leaving.”

“Uh-huh,” Tisha grins. “Looked like it to me.”

“I wasn’t, but guess I will now.” Lance sweeps his gaze across the room, stalling briefly on me, before settling on a plastic-covered bin on the corner of my desk. “Have you had one of these, Tish?” He pulls back the plastic and exposes the chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting I made last night. “Damn, they’re good.”

“Hey! Those aren’t for you,” I tell him, jerking the plastic back over the dessert.

“Your fault,” he says, grabbing one and pulling back the yellow paper liner. “You left them unattended.”

“In my office.”

“Unattended.” He breaks his smile only long enough to insert half the cupcake. “So good.” Crumbs fall from his mouth along with the words, a dollop of icing is left in the corner of his mouth as he swallows.

“Missed some.” Tish points to his face. “I could lick it off, if ya want.”

“Why aren’t you this helpful?” Lance asks, looking pointedly at me.

Tish giggles. “Because I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“And you do?” he asks, his brows pulled together.

“You were leaving. Remember?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of me.

“I think you missed the part where I said I don’t have a boyfriend,” Tish interjects. “That was the focal point of the sentence. Me. Unattended, if you will.”

Lance laughs, licking his lips. “You’d break me in half.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Tish purrs.

He starts to leave but turns back and grabs another cupcake.

“Are you serious right now?” I ask, jerking the dish toward me. “Get out of here.”

“I’m going. I’m going,” he chuckles, heading for the door. “Goodbye, ladies.”

“I have Prep sixth period,” Tish calls after him. “I’m happy to chat. I’ll bring brownies tomorrow.”

Knowing there’s no chance Tish isn’t watching him, I don’t bother pretending I’m not.

As he reaches for the door, his back muscles shift beneath his shirt and I’m taken back to the day in the spring when I stayed late to shelve books. The doors were locked so I had to exit through the gymnasium. The sound of squeaking tennis shoes and shouts from the basketball team met me in the hallway, so I was prepared for that. What I wasn’t prepared for, not in the least, was to see Lance shirtless, sweaty, and mid-layup. That V-cut of his groin is imprinted, permanently, I fear, in my brain.

“Is it wrong that I requested my classroom be moved across the hall from his?” Tish asks. “Principal Kelly just laughed, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence he’s positioned in the middle of a bunch of male teachers.”

“What are you getting at?”

“She wants him for herself! Obviously,” she groans.

“She’s married,” I laugh. “And so are you.”

“And what point is that supposed to make?” she sighs. “I’m fifty percent sure my husband is screwing his secretary, which is fine by me but I wish he’d just leave me for her. Damn. Let her do his laundry.”

“Tish!”

“What? My God-fearing soul can’t file for divorce.”

“But you can have an affair?”

“What is this? Morality hour?” she laughs, taking a cupcake from the tray. “Besides, I don’t know how any woman could have restraint around him.” Watching me expectantly, she waits for my reaction as she peels the wrapper from the dessert.

I look down, cheeks hot. Again.

“Do you?” she asks.

“Do I what?”

“Come on, Mariah. Don’t you find that boy attractive?”

Gulping, I pucker my lips together. “I find him … frustrating.”

“All the good-looking ones are, honey,” she says, biting into a cupcake. “These are good.”

“Thanks. You have some icing on the corner of your mouth,” I laugh.

She grabs a tissue and dots her lips. “Every day I come in here and every day he’s in here. That wouldn’t be true if all you found him was frustrating.”

“Look,” I say, gathering my pride, “he’s cute. For sure. But I’ve had cute. Eric was cute. He was smart on paper. He could be funny. And the only good screwing I got out of him was out of the sheets.”

Ignoring my shiver, Tish pushes on. “You need to forget about him. It’s been, what? Two years?”

“Ish,” I sigh. “And I have forgotten about him. I just remembered him to make a point.”

Her laugh fills the room as she brushes her hands off over the trashcan. “What about the guy you’ve been seeing? How’s that going?”

“I haven’t been seeing anyone,” I mutter.

Picking up a paper, I try to be interested in the numbers. Truth is, I have no idea what I’m even looking at. Saying Eric’s name out loud, something I never do, ushered in a tenderness in my heart I can’t just brush off. It hurts. It stings. I wonder if it always will.