Winning the Teacher's Heart. Jean Gordon C.
to himself than to his brothers.
“What?” his brothers asked in unison.
“The land’s good. I may have a use for it once I get a few details worked out.” He wasn’t going to leave himself open to any expectations, other than his own, until he was sure his plan to build a motocross track and school—sort of a Boys & Girls Club program—was solid. “But for now, I’d better get over to Gram’s. I’ve been in town since yesterday and haven’t seen her yet.”
“Right.” Connor laughed. “If you don’t get over there, she’ll be tracking you down.”
“Later,” Jared said as he pushed open the screen door and stepped into the bright afternoon sun. He grabbed his helmet from the back of his customized KLR650 motorcycle, slammed it on and threw his leg over the seat. The purr of the engine when he turned the key in the ignition got his blood rushing. He gave the engine a couple of good revs and raced off on the windy mountain roads to his grandmother’s house.
Fifteen minutes later, Jared slowed to take the turn off the state highway onto the side road Grandma Donnelly—Stowe—lived on. He still had trouble thinking of her as Stowe, even though she and the also-widowed Harry Stowe had married several years ago. She was on the porch waiting for him when he pulled up in front of the house.
“I heard you coming.” She shooed him inside. “The black flies are still bad this year, even though June’s almost over.”
“That’s one thing I haven’t missed. But you’re one I have.” He gave her a big hug and kissed her cheek.
“Save your flirting for someone who’s flattered by it.” The pleasure radiating from her face contrasted with her words and raised a jolt of guilt in him for all the times the racing circuit had brought him near the Adirondacks, and he hadn’t had the guts to make time to come to Paradox Lake.
He released a snort at the thought of what his fans would think about big, bad international motocross champion Jared Donnelly dreading a visit to his hometown.
She tilted her head. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to. I read the magazines.”
Jared cringed. He didn’t know if he should be disturbed or flattered that she followed him in the media. “Aw, Gram, you don’t believe all that drivel.”
“No.” She smiled. “I know you better than that. Join me for lunch? Harry’s at one of his rental houses getting an estimate on some repairs. He said he’d get lunch at the diner in Schroon Lake so we’d have time for a nice visit.”
“Sounds good.” Considering her husband Harry’s penchant for talking and knowing everyone from his years as a teacher and principal at Schroon Lake Central High School, he and Gram probably would have all afternoon for visiting.
“Come on in the kitchen. I figured you’d stop over after you and your brothers got back from the lawyer’s. I have iced tea all made. I just need to put some sandwiches together.”
A brief rap, followed by a cheery “hello” and the creak of the screen door opening made Jared and his grandmother turn around in the kitchen doorway.
His chest tightened so he could barely draw a breath. Becca Morgan—Norton—stood in his grandmother’s living room looking as pretty and as untouchable to him as she had in high school.
* * *
Becca looked Jared over from his tousled chestnut hair to his strong square jaw and muscular physique. He was taller and more filled out than he’d been in high school when she used to secretly watch him—watch him with the knowledge that despite Schroon Lake High School’s small student body, he didn’t seem to know she even existed. Her cheeks pinked when her stare met his.
“Oh.” She stopped midstep. “I didn’t know you had company. I brought the dishwasher detergent you asked me to pick up for you in Ticonderoga.”
“Thanks again. I don’t know why the grocery store in Schroon Lake quit carrying it.” Edna Stowe bustled into the living room and took the bag from Becca.
“Mom!” Becca’s son, Brendon, lined up beside her, followed by his sister, Ariana. “That’s the guy in my motorcycle magazine Grandpa Norton bought me.”
She cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s Jared Donnelly.”
“Right here at Mrs. Stowe’s house?”
Edna laughed. “Yes, Brendon. Jared is my grandson. Jared, this is Becca’s son, Brendon, and his sister, Ari.”
At the mention of her name, Ari wrapped her arms around Becca’s leg and peered across the room at Jared, sort of like Becca had at school when she’d known Jared wasn’t looking. But that was a long time ago in another life.
“Mr...Mr. Donnelly. If I get my motocross magazine, will you sign it next to your picture?”
“Sure.” Jared hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets.
“It’s in the car. I’ll go get it.” The boy raced out.
“And I’m going to go back in the kitchen and finish making our lunch. Do you and the kids want to join us?”
“No, thanks. I treated them to fast food after we finished shopping.”
Jared moved out of the doorway to let his grandmother through and sauntered over to Becca. “Your son’s a motocross fan?”
“Since last month when his grandfather bought him a magazine at the chain pharmacy in Ticonderoga.”
“Sheriff Norton.” Jared’s tone was flat.
“Former sheriff. He and my mother-in-law—ex-mother-in-law—are retired and thinking about moving to Florida. The North Country winters are getting to them.” Becca rubbed Ari’s shoulder. Why was she running on about Matt’s parents? What would Jared care if they were moving to Florida or to the moon?
“Winter is something I’m going to have to get used to again,” he said.
Becca’s mouth went dry. That sounded as if Jared intended to stay in Paradox Lake for a while. Not that she cared. She’d barely known Jared before he’d left here as a teen. She certainly didn’t know the man who’d filled the doorway when she’d first arrived. She looked over her shoulder at the creak of the door opening.
“Here it is. I got it.” Brendon waved his magazine at her as he raced across the room. “And Mom’s pen from the car.”
“Let’s see what you have there,” Jared said.
Her heart warmed when he squatted down to her son’s level. She didn’t know or care whether the interest on his face was real or feigned. Brendon’s father gave him so little of the quality attention her son needed and wanted. Jared’s attention would make her son’s day.
“That’s one of my favorite magazines. The writers stick to the important stuff, the real motocross news.”
The edge she caught in his voice made her think of a derogatory comment the kids’ grandfather had made about Jared’s offtrack life being splashed on the front of another magazine he’d seen at the store.
Brendon leafed through the magazine. “Here.” The nine-year-old tapped the page several time. “This is you.”
“So it is,” Jared agreed with a smile.
“Sign here on your motorcycle.” Brendon gave the page another stab.
Jared signed with a flourish, hamming it up for her son’s benefit.
“Mommy!” Ari pulled her attention from Jared and Brendon still bent over the magazine, Jared’s dark hair a sharp contrast to her son’s fair hair. “Can I go get my storybook from the car so the man can sign it, too?”
“The man is Mr. Donnelly.”
“Jared.” He raised his head,