Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“You’re relentless.” She steps forward and hands me my fishing line. “Thank you for your assistance today, both with my purchase and with the tire. I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to help me.”
“If that doesn’t deserve digits, I don’t know what does.” It’s a corny line, but I have a feeling she’s going to walk away from me, or drive rather. And something tells me that letting her go without her number will be a huge mistake. However, Willow River is a small town, and I already know she’s a teacher at the elementary school. It’s not like I can’t track her down. It would just be easier if I didn’t have to.
She shakes her head. “Thank you, Rushton. Enjoy your day with your brothers.” With that, she climbs into her car, and I have to watch her drive away.
I stand in the parking lot, staring after her until I can no longer see her. Once her taillights are out of sight, I move to my truck and climb behind the wheel, tossing the fishing line on the seat. It looks like Miss Crosby is going to make me work for it. Too bad for her, she doesn’t realize the Kincaids aren’t afraid of a little hard work. I’ll get that date.
The drive to Sterling’s place is filled with thoughts of the dark-haired beauty. I’m the last to arrive by the looks of his driveway, and I push all thoughts of Crosby out of my mind. If I go in there thinking about her, my brothers are going to catch on and start spouting shit about me settling down.
I want to settle down one day. I just haven’t found a woman who I can see myself waking up next to every day of forever. I can only hope that I’m as lucky as my older brothers and our cousin Ramsey. My girl is out there. I just need to find her.
CHAPTER
TWO
Crosby
I’m nervous. Since graduating from college and getting my teaching degree, I’ve been a substitute. This is the first year where I have my own classroom. These are my students, and I’m equal amounts excited and anxious.
Moving to Willow River from Atlanta was an easy decision. I was living in a rundown shithole apartment, and I have no family, and the only friend I did let get close slept with my boyfriend. That was my senior year of college. I’ve kept to myself since then. Sure, I met up with other teachers when I got the invite after a subbing gig, but I never let them in. I kept my guard up. It’s still up. I learned at an early age to never depend on anyone but myself. When Shonda, my ex-best friend turned boyfriend seducer, betrayed me, I knew more than ever that my walls needed to stay up. No matter the cost.
I spent the majority of the weekend setting up my classroom, thinking about the handsome stranger who came to my rescue, not once but twice on Saturday. Rushton Kincaid has taken more of my headspace than I feel comfortable admitting. It’s all that dark hair, those blue eyes, and the obvious muscles that his tight black T-shirt did nothing to hide.
I found his brother’s shop easily, but by the time I got there, they were already closed. I was kicking myself for not giving in and exchanging numbers with Rushton to see if he could pull some strings. Even though the thought of owing him sent me into panic mode. Instead, I drove back to the school and returned to work. My plan is to stop today on my way home.
It’s not just Rushton Kincaid that’s been on my mind all weekend. I was making name tags for desks yesterday, and low and behold, one Blakely Kincaid is on my list of students this year. Sure, it could be a coincidence. However, Willow River is a small town, and with eight brothers, he’s bound to have some nieces and nephews, or hell, she could be his daughter for all I know. I’m pretty certain that he’s single. I didn’t see a ring, and he was flirting. Not that that stops some men, but something tells me that Rushton isn’t like most men. He’s in a league all on his own.
The pitter-patter of feet and the voices of young minds start to fill the halls, so I shake out of my thoughts and smile at my students and parents as they make their way into the classroom.
I watch as each student, with the help of their parents, searches for their name on the tables we use as desks and then rushes to find their cubby where they will store their personal items each day.
The next twenty minutes are a flurry of activity. Now, here I stand in front of a room of nineteen five-year-olds, all staring at me with wide eyes. “Good morning.” I smile. “My name is Miss Greene.”