The Nanny's Texas Christmas. Lee McClain Tobin

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Chapter Two

      The next afternoon, Lana Alvarez looked at the large school clock and frowned. Her nervousness was turning into annoyance.

      Flint Rawlings was late.

      “Still here?” Rhetta Douglass, the other first-grade teacher, stuck her dreadlocked head through the door and then walked in. “Girl, it’s four fifteen on a Friday. This place is empty. Go home! Get a life!”

      “Parent conference.” Lana wrinkled her nose. If Rhetta only knew how little of a life Lana had, she’d probably laugh...and then invite her over.

      Lana and Rhetta had both started as new teachers this year, and they were becoming friends, but Rhetta had a husband and twin three-year-old sons. She didn’t need Lana horning in on her family time.

      Rhetta put down her bags, bulging with student work and supplies, and came over to perch on the edge of Lana’s desk. “Who schedules a conference at four fifteen on the one day we’re allowed to leave early? You better look out, or I’m going to sign you up for Cowboy Singles-dot-com.”

      Waving a hand back and forth and laughing, Lana leaned back in her teacher’s chair. “Not going there. And I’m about to leave. I didn’t schedule the conference for four fifteen. The parent is—”

      At that moment Flint Rawlings appeared in the doorway, taking off his hat and running a hand through messy blond hair. “Sorry I’m late.” His well-worn boots, plaid shirt and jeans proclaimed he’d come straight from the ranch.

      Rhetta raised an eyebrow at Lana. “On second thought, you may not need that website after all,” she murmured, and headed over toward her things. She waved at Flint as she walked out the door.

      Lana crossed the room to greet Flint, hoping he hadn’t heard that Cowboy Singles remark. “Come in, Mr. Rawlings.” She led the way back through the classroom to the teacher’s desk up front.

      Although she’d already put an adult-sized metal folding chair beside her desk, anticipating Flint’s visit, it didn’t seem large enough for the rugged rancher. Maybe it was the fact that she was used to males of the first-grade variety, but Flint Rawlings seemed to overwhelm the room by his very presence.

      “Thank you for—”

      “I’m sorry about—”

      They both stopped. “Go ahead,” Lana said, gesturing for Flint to finish.

      He shook his head. “Nothing important. It’s just, we had a little episode up at the ranch. That’s why I’m late. If you need to reschedule, it’s fine.”

      It sounded like he wanted her to reschedule. Really? Wasn’t he concerned about his son? “I think the situation is important enough that we’d better discuss it now.”

      “That’s fine, then. What’s going on?” He propped a booted foot on one knee and then set it down again. Like he was trying to get comfortable, or...

      He wiped a bandanna across his forehead, and understanding struck Lana. He was nervous! The manly Flint Rawlings was sweating bullets in the classroom of his son’s first-grade teacher.

      It was a phenomenon she’d seen in her previous job, too. Lots of parents had anxiety around teachers, usually a result of bad childhood experiences or just excessive worry about their children. Whatever was the case with Flint, the realization siphoned off some of her annoyance.

      She crossed her legs, folded her hands and faced him. “So, we had some trouble with Logan yesterday.”

      “What sort of trouble?” He raised his eyes from the floor—or had he been looking at her legs?—and frowned. “If it was disrespect—”

      “Not exactly. Hear me out.” She picked up a pencil and tapped it on the table, end over end, eraser and then point. “During our one-on-one reading time, he refused to read. Just clamped his mouth shut and wouldn’t say anything.”

      “That’s funny.” Flint looked puzzled. “He likes to look through picture books at home, and he’s always pointing out words he recognizes on signs and such.”

      “I’m glad you have books for him at home. That’s so important.” She smiled at the man, wanting to put him at ease. “He usually enjoys reading here, too. He’s definitely ahead of the curve in the subject. But yesterday, nothing.”

      “I’ll talk to him.” Flint scooted his chair back as if the conference was over.

      She folded her arms. “There’s more.”

      “What else?” he asked, visibly forcing himself to sit still and focus.

      “After reading time, he knocked over a bucket of erasers.” She nodded over to them, now neatly atop a stand beside the chalkboard. “He refused to pick them up. Just crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. I thought СКАЧАТЬ