In over a decade at the school she’d learned so much more from these kids, children who’d seen a lifetime of loss and pain before they reached eighteen. She wanted to save them all but had come to accept no one person could carry that off.
However, for the hour or two they each spent in her class every day, she could give them an escape. She could transport them to another world when she taught literature. That’s how she lived her life these days, one hour at a time. Her dreams came in smaller pockets of time rather than grandiose plans to save the world.
She stepped out into the fading sun, the dusty wind stirring her skirt around her calves. The teachers’ quarters were a short walk away, a dorm-like setup where each staff member had a two-room efficiency apartment. Her dreams were definitely more scaled down these days.
She rounded the corner of the clay building—and slammed into another wall. Or rather she slammed into a person. A man, one of her fellow teachers.
“Sam,” she gasped. “You startled me.”
Samir Al-Shennawi had moved here from Egypt a year ago to teach history. And from day one, he hadn’t hidden his interest in her.
“Annie,” he answered, not budging. “I’ve come to walk you to your quarters. You should not be out alone.”
“You’re thoughtful, but the security guards are always a shout away.”
“And I am their reinforcements.” He smiled but still didn’t budge.
Samir—Sam—was different from other men she’d known, and she hadn’t led a nun’s life during her exile here. While she hadn’t slept with him, Samir pushed her for something far more intimate than any of those other men. Friendship.
“I will walk you home,” he insisted.
“It’s only three buildings away.” She pretended not to notice the curious stares. Everyone knew Sam had a thing for her, but they also knew she’d kept her distance. “Your help isn’t necessary.”
Still, she waved for him to walk beside her.
“I do understand it is not necessary. But I will walk with you anyway.” His smile fanned creases from his eyes behind his little round glasses. “My mother would be very angry with me if I forgot the manners she taught me.”
She pretended not to notice the curious stares of other teachers and students as she passed the dining hall. “You’re a pushy man.”
“Not really.”
And that was true. He had a reputation for being a mild-mannered academic, the epitome of nerdiness. Except when it came to pursuing her. He was always quietly there, waiting with those intense sexy eyes of his.
“So then, Sam…” She smiled at him, letting herself flirt a little as a relief against the horrible day. “If I told you to go on ahead, you would?”
He walked silently beside her, staying in step along the dirt path leading to the teachers’ dorm.
Laughing, she hooked her thumb on the leather strap of her bag. “Like I said. Pushy.”
“Ungrateful.”
“Excuse me?”
He glanced down at her, reminding her he had eight extra inches of height on her. “Since we are tossing around adjectives, I will volley one back your way. Ungrateful.”
Now that struck a nerve, reminding her of arguments with her husband. Her dead husband. “I’m supposed to be grateful for the gift of your presence? Well then how about this adjective? Egotistical.”
He tapped his chest. “Protective.”
That sat a little better on her prickly pride. “Oh, you’re worried about me? Now don’t I feel foolish? I thought you were hitting on me.”
His smile flattened to a deep scowl. “I would never hit a woman.”
“Sorry. That’s an idiom for making a move on a woman.” Still he looked confused so she continued, “A romantic move.”
“That too.”
She stopped. “You’re making a move on me? After a year of following me around.”