“Except then you have to drag it all the way home and all the way back . . .”
Ainsley grinned. “Nope, I got someone else to drag it for me.”
Starla rolled her eyes, then stopped on the curb. “Where’s your car?”
“It’s in the back,” Ainsley said, digging around in her purse for her keys. “I like to let the parents have the spots close up. I don’t like kids wandering through the parking lot after . . .” She stopped. “Wait, where’s my car?”
The women stood in the middle of the parking lot. They looked at each other. They looked at Ainsley’s usual spot, empty. They looked at each other again.
“Could someone have borrowed it?” Starla asked, shifting the heavy box higher against her hip as if it were a child. That felt like something that would happen around here. Her dad had had quite a few calls as a cop where it ended up that a friend or relative had just borrowed a car because it was unlocked. But hers had been locked; she was sure of it.
“No, I don’t . . . I don’t think so.”
“Who would steal your car right out of the school parking lot? That’s fairly audacious,” Starla said, turning back toward the building. “Do you have security cameras or anything?”
Ainsley followed, shaking her head. “Just on the front of the school. Intruder awareness and all that.” She sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll be eating candy for lunch and spending my free time on the phone with our beloved Officer Painter . . .” Their friend Lizzie was the newest member of the sheriff’s office.
“Sorry,” Starla said, and she looked like she meant it as she passed Ainsley the box. “Let’s just take my car.”
“No”—Ainsley waved away the offer—“I’ve got food. I’ll be fine. You can give me a ride home tonight, though, if you want. I was going to walk your kids down anyway.” She sighed again. “And I’ll have to cancel all my meetings and stuff unless I can borrow Winnie’s car, provided she’s not working.” Ainsley groaned. “So much for our lunch date.”
“Bummer.” Starla nodded somberly. “Why don’t you call Kyle? I’m sure he’d run you around if he’s off.”
“I think he works tonight, so he might be asleep.”
“Just text him. This is what partners are for, right?” Are we partners, though? There was a touch of irony in the statement, and Ainsley wasn’t sure if Starla realized it.
“Here, I’ll take the box back. Thanks, Star.”
“Good luck,” she said over her shoulder as she headed to her car.
Ainsley texted with her thumb as she lugged the box and her large bag back inside.
Ainsley: Some jerkface stole my car. Can you believe that?
Kyle: No, he just moved it where the ground was level.
Ainsley: What? Who did?
Kyle: My brother. I asked him to fix your door.
Kyle: You’re welcome.
Annoyance didn’t begin to describe it. Ainsley stalked back into her classroom and shoved the box behind her desk. Gretchen B. was digging around in her desk, her small face hidden behind the open top. Ainsley took a deep breath and tried to calm down before she spoke to her.
“You’re supposed to be at lunch, kiddo,” she gently chided.
“I know, but I just wanted to show Devin my new—”
“Whatever it is, it can wait until after lunch. Now scoot.”
“But Miss B—”
“Gretchen!” she snapped. “Go. Now.” The crestfallen look on the child’s face told her that she’d gone too far, but the girl darted from the room before she could say anything more. Her phone dinged.
Kyle: I didn’t think you used it during the day.
Kyle: You’re not saying anything.
Kyle: I was doing a nice thing . . . and it was really easy to break into it with the door broken.
He added a smirk emoji. That does it. Ainsley calmly silenced her phone, opened her top desk drawer, dropped it inside, and slammed the drawer shut. She’d had enough of that conversation for one afternoon. She was officially over this day.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SURE ENOUGH, AFTER school, her truck was right where it belonged, with a little something extra on the hood: a nervous doctor and his nephew. Kyle hopped down, tossing his keys to himself.
“I moved your car back.”
Ainsley marched directly to the driver’s side door, Aiden and Emily right behind her. She opened the door for them, watching them slide across; they could ride without boosters this one time. She vaulted herself into the driver’s seat, tossing her bag at their feet. Her grading slipped out and fluttered to the floor of the truck, which was cleaner than usual. Come to think of it, the outside was cleaner, too. Did he detail her funky old truck? You can’t buy your way out of this one, Durand.
“Did you have a good day?”
She breathed a humorless laugh. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I had to miss lunch with my friend, we are concerned about the lost kitty situation, and I thought my car had been stolen. So my day su—” Her gaze fell to Cooper. “. . . uh, stunk.”
“Got your truck door fixed, though. That’s good, right?”
Ainsley shook her head slowly. He obviously was not getting what he’d done wrong, but she wasn’t about to get into it with him in the school parking lot. Her silence seemed to upset him. His expression grew stormy, his eyebrows snapping together.
“You said the barrier to fixing your car was money; I got it done for free. What’s the problem?”
Ainsley closed her eyes as her temper flared up like a grease fire. Smother it. Just don’t give it air. “Dr. Durand, I am at work. This is not a discussion for my place of business.”
“When, then?”
“Pardon?”
He shifted restlessly, his hands on his hips. “Coop, go wait in the car, bud.” The boy trudged off as Ainsley watched to make sure he wasn’t going to get hit, even though the parking lot was mostly empty. “When are we going to discuss it?” he repeated. “I’m headed to work soon.”
“I know.”
“So?”
She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “So I don’t know when we’re going to discuss it, because I don’t know when I’ll see you next.” And I’m still mad at you for messing with my car to prove a point. “You guys buckled?” she asked the kids, and both nodded.
Kyle stared at her for a long moment. “No. That doesn’t work for me. I need a date and time.”
She started her engine. “Life’s hard, then you die.”
“Ainsley,” he growled, but the noise of the engine drowned out whatever else he was going to say as she pulled out of the spot, satisfied at having the last word. Her feeling of superiority was short-lived, because Kyle pulled out of the parking lot directly behind her. Instead of turning right toward Philip’s, he turned left to cross the bridge into the heart of town.
What the . . . Is he chasing me? She gave him two more blocks to do the sane thing and turn around. He didn’t. She glared at him in her rearview mirror, then pulled into the library parking lot to let the Miller kids out, and he pulled up next to her. They both rolled down their windows.