Yuletide Proposal. Lois Richer

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      Chapter Three

      There were very few times in his life that Zac regretted his actions. Yesterday’s plea to Brianna ranked right up there.

      He stabbed the button on his phone that paged his secretary.

      “Tammy Lyn, would you get me the number of that counseling outfit in Las Cruces, please?” Zac would find his own solutions. Because somehow, he was going to get that state job.

      “I will. And I have Brianna’s office on line two. She wants to see you between her appointments tomorrow. Do you have a time preference?”

      She was going to refuse. Zac was surprised by the rush of disappointment that swamped him. Had he really been looking forward to working with his former fiancée—the one who’d caused him so much embarrassment?

      And why had Brianna run away on their wedding day? Zac wasn’t sure he believed her mother’s explanation that Brianna had realized she was too immature for marriage.

      “Zac?” Tammy Lyn’s impatient reminder snapped his daydream.

      “Sorry.” He swallowed, firmed his voice. “Three o’clock. I’ve got that board meeting at five.”

      “Okay, we’ll try for that.” Tammy Lyn clicked off the intercom.

      Zac wondered how Brianna would phrase her refusal. She’d probably try to poke around in his brain first, wanting to figure out what he hadn’t said yesterday. Guilt made him shift uncomfortably.

      He hadn’t told her his goal of attaining the state job when she’d questioned his reasons for asking for her help. And he should have. Initiating a program to motivate kids that resulted in higher test scores would certainly improve his chances of getting a job developing curriculum, which sounded pretty selfish. But truthfully, influencing education at a state level seemed to Zac the only viable way he could make lasting changes in student achievement, and do it without the people skills he lacked. Still, when Brianna found out state education was his ultimate goal, she would probably assume he was using her.

      Aren’t you? the nagging little voice in his head demanded.

      Yes, he wanted her help to change things in Hope. But her son would benefit from the changes here. So would a lot of other kids. It had been incredibly difficult for Zac to return to the scene of his biggest shame, to the place where he’d spent a year enduring whispers and gossip about their broken relationship. But he’d come back because of the vast changes that were possible here. If only he could engage these kids.

      On the surface, seeking Brianna’s help seemed stupid. After all, she’d walked out on him, shattered the love he’d had for her when she left him standing at the altar. That love had crumbled to nothing during a year of public humiliation while he fulfilled the teaching contract he’d so stupidly agreed to. But now, ten long years later, they were both back in Hope and the truth was Zac missed the camaraderie they’d once shared when Brianna had been his best friend.

      Zac was finished with love. That year in Hope had made him determined to never again take the risk of giving his heart to someone, to never again risk such public humiliation. He’d spent years honing a protective shell that kept anyone from getting too close.

      But now he and Brianna lived in the same town, shared the same friends and had a mutual interest in seeing the school do well. Ten years later Zac didn’t want her love. He wanted her help.

      Persuading her wasn’t going to be easy.

      “Zac?” Tammy Lyn’s intercom voice cracked through his thoughts. “The person you wanted in Las Cruces is out until next week. Sorry. If you could give me that stuff for the board meeting tomorrow I could format it and distribute it today.”

      “You’ll have it as soon as I’m finished,” he promised. Mentally steeling himself for Brianna’s negative response, Zac blanked out everything and got busy with his notes for the board meeting. They had to be letter perfect because he was lousy at ad-libbing.

      Getting that state job would be the culmination of all he’d worked for. That it might ensure nobody in Hope ever said “Poor Zac” again was an added bonus. At state level he could make curriculum more relevant and help kids learn. That was Zac’s primary goal.

      If he had to do it without Brianna’s help, so be it.

      * * *

      Brianna walked up the stairs to the district school office the following afternoon with her throat blocked. This was probably the wrong thing to do. She was a gullible fool. But she was going to do it anyway.

      Two minutes later she was seated in Zac’s office where he had hot tea and some coconut cookies waiting.

      “You’re not going to tell me you baked these, are you?” she asked, trying for levity to crack the tension in the air.

      “No.” He smiled as he poured out two cups. “Sorry.”

      “Thank you.” She accepted her tea, sipped it, inhaling the fresh orangey scent that was her favorite. He’d remembered—another surprise.

      “Have a cookie.”

      Brianna accepted one and chewed on it while he talked about people they knew who were returning for the Homecoming weekend. But eventually the small talk became punctuated by too-long silences. It was time to get to the point.

      “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, Zac,” she began.

      “I shouldn’t have asked you.” For a brief moment his eyes grew clouded. But then he blinked, and the impassive expression was back in place. “I understand why you have to say no, Brianna. People would talk if we worked together and the gossip—” He rolled his eyes. “Let’s just say I don’t want to go through that again.”

      “I’m not concerned about gossip.” She frowned.

      “Then it’s working together that bothers you.” Zac rubbed his chin. “I thought—hoped that after so many years we’d be past that and able to concentrate on what’s best for the kids, but—”

      “It’s not the past, either,” Brianna sputtered, frustrated that he kept butting in.

      “Then it’s me. I understand your hesitation.” He leaned forward, face earnest. “Forget about it. I’ll manage.”

      “But—”

      “No, if you have hesitations, you should say no.” He sat there, silent, as if he didn’t know how to proceed.