Teaching Ms. Riggs. Stephanie Beck
bold and carefree with a man. “I should have given you a little more warning. Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” he said and stood up without taking her hand. A small red abrasion showed on his forehead, but other than the scrape he looked fine.
More than fine, Ben thought, looking him up and down as he reached to the ground for his hat. Mark Dougstat was a handsome man. Older than her usual type, if she even had one anymore. She didn’t even want to think about her lack of dating skills. Instead she smiled again and just let herself enjoy Mark smiling back at her.
“So, you volunteer for the school board and here too? What don’t you do, Mr. Dougstat?”
He flushed again, like he was embarrassed by the praise, which Ben found all the more endearing.
“I help out with maintenance here, along with a few of the other men from my church. The nursing home had to cut one of the maintenance positions because of cost this year, so we’re stepping in when we can,” he explained.
He was too good to be true, Ben thought as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dusted his hands off. Or maybe it had just been too long since she’d been around a man who wasn’t scum. She worried the latter was true, but at the moment that past didn’t matter.
“And what are you doing here, Ms. Riggs?” Mark asked, his tone playful. “Doing a little catching up?”
“I tried to. One of my aunt’s friends lives here, but Mable is snoozing so I’ll be back Thursday.” She tried not fidget under his gaze.
She felt his focus solely on her, and that wasn’t something she was accustomed to. Even in class when everyone was supposed to be paying attention, she knew they didn’t. Mark’s gaze didn’t waver, and she felt like she was the only one in his world.
“That’s nice.” He nodded. “It’s great that you’re jumping right back into Flathead Falls.”
“Yeah, I think so,” she replied.
“I suppose you walked again?” he asked, maintaining eye contact even as he gathered up the tools and plastic covered manual beside him.
“I sure did. I thought I might as well make the most of this Indian summer we’re having.”
He nodded again, and she loved how expressive he was. With Mark, she didn’t have to look deeper because she didn’t think there was a next layer on him; he was just a genuinely caring, playful man. Simple in the best way.
“I’m through here for now. Can I give you a ride home?” he asked.
“Are you sure I wouldn’t be out of your way?” she replied, watching his eyes light up at the slight flirt in her voice. It was so nice to tease.
“Darlin’ the city is twenty blocks total.” His voice was all smooth southern drawl and sexy. A shiver ran up her spine as he winked. “And nothing is out of the way when it comes to helping a pretty woman.”
Ten minutes later, Ben watched as Mark pulled away from the apartment building’s curb. He was so sweet. They’d laughed through the short drive. The entire time they’d sat and cracked each other up, and she’d had the strongest urge just to hold his hand.
She adjusted her backpack and headed into the apartment, looking briefly at the front window when she remembered wanting a window planter. She made a mental note to talk to the superintendent about it soon. Maybe Mark could help her put something together. He was awful handy.
What would an hour with him be like? She wondered how quickly holding hands would progress with a man like him. He’d mentioned church a few times and she also had a strong faith, so that made her think he’d court low and slow. Courting, an old word, but as Ben turned her key in the door lock, she thought it suited Mark.
She flipped on the light switch and the bubbly, bemused feelings she’d indulged most of the day evaporated. An envelope waited on the floor with her name written in elaborate cursive. Ben didn’t lean down or bother to pick it up. She retraced her steps until she returned to the front porch, then pulled out her cellphone and called it in.
* * * *
“Uncle Mark, can I eat the chocolate ice cream?”
Mark swore as the interruption made him jump, his niece breaking his concentration. Thankfully the jerk hadn’t done any damage to the birdhouse or to his fingers. He unplugged the saw and leaned back from the bench.
“What chocolate ice cream, Kira? I bought vanilla.”
“It’s double chocolate chip, and it looks good,” she called, and his memory clicked.
“Ah, wait up, kiddo. I don’t think that’s ours.” He set the birdhouse higher on the counter so it wouldn’t fall and headed into the house.
The place was a mess, papers strategically placed all over, dishes in the sink, and the floor needed to be swept. With school starting and the hay needing close attention, who had the time?
He liked things to be neat and tidy but not enough to spend his whole damn day working at it. When the weather was nice and there were chores to be done, inside the house was the last place he wanted to be. He’d clean in the winter when he was stuck for hours on end and the kids were in school.
“Who else would have ice cream in the freezer?” Kira demanded, standing up straight from where she’d been bent over the open chest freezer on the front porch.
She was out of her school clothes and into cutoff jean shorts and a yellow half t-shirt she called a baby-t. He didn’t complain, not yet anyway. He figured he’d save it for a few years down the road when that sort of shirt meant something more than his little girl was hot and the air conditioner was acting up.
“Well, I think it belongs to Ms. Riggs, Thomas’s chemistry teacher.” Mark plucked the box from her hand and looped the other ice cream tub’s red handle over her skinny wrist instead. “I gave her a ride home the other night and she must have forgotten it, so paws off, squirt.”
“Uncle Mark, you’re so weird.” Her tone was a little sassy, but she stopped short of rolling her eyes.
He was glad her manners were finally coming back. Since she’d come home from France, she’d been an eye-rolling, back-talking little heathen. It had taken a few bouts of chair guarding in the corner, but she’d straightened up relatively quickly and was back to being the girl he’d raised.
He walked through the kitchen and to the living room. The air conditioner hummed and did its job in the little space, but it was days like this that made him want to put in central air. It was on the to-do list right after finishing the basement and putting in a new chicken coop.
“Hey, Thomas?” Mark called up the stairs. The narrow staircase was more humid than the other rooms put together, but Thomas still preferred to do his homework in his room rather than at the table like he had as a kid.
“Yeah?”
“Where’s the paper your chemistry teacher sent home?” he asked.
“What do you need?” The squeak from Thomas’s office chair announced he was moving for the request.
“Ms. Riggs’s phone number. I gave her a ride, and she forgot her ice cream.”
Thomas’s tall, lanky frame nearly filled the narrow enclave of the staircase. He bypassed his sister’s side room and hung from the pull-up bar he’d begged for years ago. “Here you go. Ice cream, huh? Are you sure you don’t like her or something?”
“What? No, well she’s cute, but she had a couple of bags the other day at the store, so I gave her a ride to her apartment.”
“I heard you gave her a ride yesterday too,” Thomas said with a smirk.
The joys of living in a small town, Mark thought as he reached for the paper only to have Thomas snatch it back. “She’d gone to visit someone at the nursing home, and