“Chase Cooper.”
“Yeah. I mean, yeah, of course you know that. Duh. It’s, I was…”
“I’m Renate. Nice to meet you.”
“Ren…Rena—?” He gets hung up on the unusual pronunciation.
It’s rare people meet a Hispanic woman with a Dutch-Norwegian name that isn’t even pronounced correctly because of my father’s sense of humor.
“Like Reh and naught. Renate. You can call me Ren. Most people do.”
“That’s, it’s pretty. I… shit, I didn’t hurt you, did I? I mean, it’s nice to uhm—” He shakes his head and mumbles. For a movie star, he’s about as articulate as a two-year-old. “Shit.”
Closing his eyes, he runs his large hand through that caramel hair, nice and slow, tucking it behind his ear where it refuses to stay. He’s cute when he rambles, and he’s got this dimple on his chin and I have to resist reaching out and touching it.
“I’m really sorry, Renate. I was looking for the bathroom and—” He looks around us. “Yeah, I’m totally lost.”
“You’re close. You’re one hallway too far.” I direct him before I load the toys back into the box. He wants to help, but I shoo him away. If any of those paparazzi got in here, this is the last thing they need to find. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it.”
“It’s my mess,” he replies in that velvety smooth voice that I don’t want to stop listening to. It’s hypnotizing. “The least I can do is stay and help.”
We get the last of the toys in the box and he hands me my keys as he stands to his full height. I swallow hard as the expressionI would climb that man like a treefinally makes sense to me. He’s a giant. Of course, I’m just over five foot two—in heels. As I reach out for the keys, our hands brush together and he holds his there just a little longer than most people would. I’ve frozen, unable to pull my hand away from his touch.
“Here, I’ll carry the box.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Cooper. I’ve got it now. Thank you, though.” I’m not sure how I’m keeping my cool right now with this hunk inmyhallway. “You were headed to the restroom anyhow.”
“Right, yeah. It was nice meeting you, Renate. I uhm, I’m sorry, again, that I ran into you like that.”
He’s walking away—but not turning around—just walking backward as if he doesn’t want to stop looking at me. It would be kind of cute, but… “Mr. Cooper?”
“Call me Chase. Or Coop. Or, you know?—”
“You’re about to walk into a wall.”
He spins around and sure enough, he’s face to face with one of the bulletin boards. He turns around again. “Thanks. Again. I’ll, you know, be more… careful.”
I watch him disappear down the hallway before I unlock the door to my classroom. As I put the box away in one of the storage closets, I lean against the wall and laugh, giving my heart a moment to slow the heck down.
“Why is it always the pretty ones who are dumb as rocks?” I laugh to myself as I lock up.
CHAPTER3
HOTS FOR TEACHER
VAN HALEN
I can’t gether out of my head. I tried watching TV, reading a book, even wrestled the dogs, and still she’s in my fucking head. Now, I’m pacing the living room, trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do next while also practicing how to pronounce her name.
“Re nah tuh. Renaaaht. Naughty Renate—y. Don’t be a dick, Cooper. Renate.”
It’s driving my dog, Lulu, nuts because she’s trying to follow me around thinking we might play again. She’s a Boxer I rescued a couple of years ago to give my other dog some company, and she’s a goofy ball of energy. Pongo, the eighty pound Pit Bull, is the laid back one that’s now staring at me like I’ve grown another head. He’s trained to sense shifts in my mood, and I’m pretty sure I’m sending his sensors into overdrive today.
“I should call her, right? Fuck, what would you do?” I ask Pongo, but he just drops his head back onto his paws and pretends to sleep. Some help he is. I rehearse what I’ll say on the phone and use Lulu as my stand-in.
“Hi, my name is Chase Coo…nope.” I shake it off and start again.
“Hello, I was, uhh, at the art painting thing last…Jesus.” I take a few quick breaths, shake my hands, and jump up and down a few times. I’ve got this. What kind of fucking professional actor am I that I can’t even make a phone call? Fuck it! I’m doing this. My hand hits my empty pocket and my shoulders shrug.
