"Well, that's great. Good to have you." He scooped a thick arm through the air as he turned toward the building. "Come on around back with me. I'll show you my best kept secret."
It took me a moment to shelve all thoughts of my big, helpful stranger's best kept secret and blink away from his tight backside as he moved down the sidewalk. I had to lengthen my strides to keep up.
"Are you, uh, do you—" I called to the strong line of his shoulders.
He shot a confused glance over his shoulder before slowing to match my pace. He yanked his ball cap off his head and raked his fingers through his—I knew it!—honey-blond hair. "What is the matter with me?" he asked, mostly to himself. He replaced the ball cap and met my gaze with a bashful grin, like a golden retriever guilty of wagging too hard and taking out an entire rosebush in the process. "Max Murphy. I teach health and phys ed." He smiled down at the sidewalk. "The kids call me Coach Maximum."
I couldn't help the laugh that broke loose. "I can imagine they do."
"Let me guess." Max cut a glance in my direction, still smiling. He tapped a finger against his lips as he hummed. His gaze dropped to my slim trousers. "Middle school, for sure. You don't crawl around or sit criss-cross-applesauce with the littles in those pants."
That earned him another laugh. "You're right about that."
Nodding, he studied my gingham shirt and tie printed with pink and blue crabs. It was too damn hot for ties, but in the continuing saga of my overpreparation for school, I'd reasoned it was better to arrive overdressed and leave with a tie balled in my pocket. "I'm going to say science."
I waved at my tie. "What? No evidence to support that inference? Math teachers never wear pastel crabs or something like that?"
Max shook his head as we rounded the building. "Nah," he replied, chuckling. "You're the only new middle grade teacher this year." He tugged a lanyard from his pocket and waved his key fob at a panel on the building. When the locks disengaged, he held the door open for me. "That, and you look like a science teacher."
I stepped into a blessedly cool, dark hallway, never more thankful for air-conditioning than I was right now. But I had to know—"Which part of me looks like a science teacher?"
I glanced at Max in time to see a wave of pink washing up his neck. "Um, I, uh, I'm not sure." He shrugged, his gaze darting toward my shirt and then away, anywhere but me and my sweat-wrinkled gingham. "The green, I guess. Green for science. Is that a thing? Do content areas have designated colors? I don't know why I thought that. That's dumb, right? It's dumb. Never mind."
We stood a shoulder's width apart, the hallway empty. Max tipped his head up, blinked at the dimmed lights in a way that suggested he'd only now noticed their absence. He ran a hand over his chest, still watching the ceiling. Every visible inch of him was large and solid, as if his body had decided he was meant to spend his days using it for sport long before his mind could form such an idea. I figured he was in his late twenties, maybe early thirties.
He swallowed, turned his attention back toward me, and smiled when he found me staring. Again, I worried about drool. Stubble shadowed his neck and jaw in an invitation I couldn't accept. Not today.
"I'm late," I said, giving him this isn't what I want hands and please understand I'd rather sweat on a hot sidewalk all day if it meant staring at your ass in those shorts eyes. "Can you show me where I'm supposed to be?"
"Right here," Max replied, his words sandpaper rough.
My lips parted as a starved sound panted out of me. I didn't know I'd gone from stressed to starved in the span of minutes, but here I was, confused and—and absolutely melting for this man. "I'm not sure what that means."
Max reached behind him, opening a door that led to another hallway. "Right here," he repeated. "The first door on your left is the library. That's where you're supposed to be."
I stared over his shoulder as I gathered up the fragile, needy parts of myself I'd let go uncaged in the minutes since meeting Max. I didn't know what I was thinking. Rather, I hadn't thought. I'd followed this big, sweet golden retriever even when I knew better.
"Thank you," I said, not quite meeting his eyes. He leaned back against the door, making way for me to pass, but only if I angled my body. I didn't do that. I shuffled past him, the entire length of my arm brushing his chest as I went. Hard, hard, hard he was. I fixed my gaze on the buttons open at his throat, wondered whether I'd find him smooth or fuzzy if I slipped my hand under the fabric. Yeah, he was fuzzy. I was as positive as a proton about that. "It wasn't dumb."
"What?" he asked, the word barely more than a cough.
I risked a glance at his face. The smile remained but it didn't reach his eyes. "Green for science. It wasn't dumb. I think that too. That's…that's exactly why I wear it."
I couldn't surrender another minute to this man, not even if I wanted more than anything to do precisely that. Tightening my grip on the strap of my messenger bag, I marched toward the library.
"You're not late," Max called. "We always hold the first half hour for coffee and bagels. We're big into the coffee and bagel scene around here." He paused, probably waiting for me to turn and acknowledge his words with something more than a relieved exhale. Then, "Do you like bagels?"
I lifted my shoulders, let them fall. "Cinnamon raisin, yeah. Warmed, but not all the way toasted."
He made a noise that sounded like approval, a rumbling murmur that said, "Yes. Just like that."
"I like sesame, even if the seeds make a damn mess." He studied the front of his shirt, as if he expected he'd discover errant seeds there. "But I might try that cinny raisin some time."
"You should." I glanced back at him. "I'm Jory. Hayzer. Jory Hayzer."
His brows furrowed as he worked out my name in his head. There was no hiding these machinations as they were splashed all over his face. "Jory. Like Rory, but with a J."
I bobbed my head. "Yeah."
His smile could've thawed ice. It was possible he was thawing my ice as we spoke. "I like it."
"Thanks." Smiling wasn't my nature. It always looked like I was forced or uncomfortable. Slight grins were more my speed. But somewhere between my perfectionism and stoicism and ever-present anxiety, I found a true smile for Max. "Thank you for showing me the way," I said. "I should get in there. I need to assess the bagel situation."
His eyes turned stony and his lips flattened into a striking line as he jabbed a finger in my direction. "Defend that cinny raisin territory, Hayzer."
Max delivered that order as if he was calling plays from the sidelines. Serious, stern, allowing no room for argument. I adored it. Adored it. I couldn't decide whether it was my unanswered desire for a strong, certain presence at my side or the knowledge Max possessed as much strength as he did sweetness.
"I'll do that," I promised, still smiling.
The stern façade dissolved. "If you wanted, you could come find me after your new staff sessions today. I'll be around all day." He propped a hand on his waist, shrugged. If this was his way of affecting casual, it was even more adorable than the no-nonsense coach vibe. "It's mostly administrative stuff. Ordering supplies, organizing athletics schedules, sorting balls." He smirked. "Phys ed teachers. We've got a lot of balls."