Apple Blossom Bride

“Yes, I do. I also think I know some high school kids who’d appreciate seeing those slides.” Mrs. Masters scanned Ashley from head to foot, nodding. “One look at you and I know they’d sit up and listen. You are what they aspire to be. Talented, gorgeous, smart, interesting.”

“Me?” Ashley raised one eyebrow. “I don’t even have a job at the moment.”

“That’s not important right now. Your health is what matters most. But if you’re bored, helping at the school might fill your day.” Mrs. Masters pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Take this to the school. Jillian Tremaine is the teacher’s name. Tell her I sent you.”

Three men pushed through the doors of the coffee shop. Ashley gave them a quick check, her heart racing. Nope. Not him.

“You’ve got customers. I’d better go.” But Ashley couldn’t leave until she’d learned what she really needed to know. “How is your family, Mrs. Masters?”

“We’re all fine. My girls have moved to the east coast for their jobs but Michael’s back in town. He lives below the ridge with his daughter. She’s a darling.” A fond smile tilted her generous mouth.

“I didn’t know he’d married.” Understatement of the year.

“Yes, but he’s single now. Tati is a godsend.” Her eyes lit up. “We love that little sweetheart so much.”

“I’m sure.”

Mrs. Masters’s attention wavered to her now-seated customers.

“Excuse me, dear. I’ve got to get back to work. You be sure to talk to Jillian.” She patted her shoulder absently. “I hope you’re feeling better soon.”

“Thanks for the pie.”

“Oh, pfui! You take care of yourself.”

Ashley waggled her fingers and left, mulling over the idea of showing her slides. A few hours a week at the high school—it might just keep her busy enough to prevent getting involved in Piper’s winter festival plans.

Not that Ashley had anything against a winter festival in Serenity Bay. Her father had been part of a group who’d self-published a community history book on the trappers, hunters and fishermen who’d originally settled the bay. Piper’s plan to resurrect some of those old skills into a modern-day festival sounded like loads of fun.

But Ashley wasn’t ready to tie herself down here. Not yet. Not since a tiny sprite with black curly hair had demanded to be free, stopping her heart and reminding her that the past wasn’t dead and buried.

Her focus shifted to what Mrs. Masters had said about Mick. So he’d been married. Hardly surprising given that half the tourist girls that had visited the Bay every summer went gaga over Mick’s bad-boy grin and heart-melting winks. Ashley had come back to visit her father every summer after her parents had split, and her fifteenth summer had been spent hoping and praying Mick would notice her.

It had never happened.

Mick never chose one female over another. He preferred hanging out with a group of friends—both boys and girls. Of course she’d never really been part of his set. He was three years older for one thing. And employed. While she’d played with Piper and Rowena, Mick had helped out his dad in the garage and his mother in her coffee shop. Then one summer Ashley arrived to find he’d left the Bay. She’d never seen him again.

Until the other day at the apple tree when she’d let the past intrude.

She was more certain than ever that Michael had probably never noticed her gaping at him from afar. Good thing, because it meant she wouldn’t feel doubly embarrassed if she met up with him again.

Which she had absolutely no intention of doing.

Ashley started the car, shifted into first and headed toward the school.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that Mrs. Masters asked you to talk to me.” Jillian Tremaine pressed a hand to her upsweep, pushing a pin in place.

“Oh?”

“I’ve been at my wits’ end trying to get these kids interested in expressing themselves with visual arts. Unless it has to do with computers they tune out, you know. And somehow the curriculum books just don’t cut it. But you and your slides—” She smiled. “They’re going to enjoy their time with you and I’m going to enjoy putting those busy little minds to work.”

“I hope you’re right—about the slides, I mean.”

“I am.”

Ashley chatted with her for another few minutes, agreeing to show up Monday after lunch. She left as the bell rang for the next period.

Students filled the halls, laughing, talking and shoving each other good-naturedly as they went. One or two of the boys gave her the once-over. Ashley had to smile.

She was almost to the front door when a hand closed around her arm. Every nerve tensed as she jerked free, whirled around, prepared to defend herself. Her jaw dropped.

“You!”

“Yep. Sorry if I hurt you.” Brown eyes melting like chocolate in the sun lit up Mick’s face. His mouth tilted into a crooked smile. “I didn’t mean to grip so hard. I called out a couple of times but with this mob I don’t suppose you heard.”

“No, I didn’t.” Why had he stopped her? “Are you leaving, too?”

His nose wrinkled. “I wish. I have a class this period.”

“You’re teaching here?” She couldn’t believe it. The last thing she’d expected Mick Masters to become was a teacher.

“Started this month. Shop class for grades ten to twelve. You don’t want to know how dangerous it is to pair up a teenager with a saw.” He grinned. “Most of my students are accidents waiting to happen.”

Ashley honed in on the bandage covering his thumb. “Apparently not only the kids.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed.

“A misbehaving chisel. I chastised it thoroughly, don’t worry.”

“Uh-huh.” She zipped her jacket. “Good to talk to you again, Michael. I’d better not keep you.”

“You’re not. The kids aren’t allowed to touch anything unless I’m in the room. For that reason I try always to be late.” He said it without any sign of an apology, but his eyes danced with fun. “Can we have coffee sometime?”

“Why?” She held the door open, wishing her brain would function. She wasn’t prepared for this, not at all.

“Why?” He frowned, tilted his head to one side. “Well, because I’ve never had coffee with a fashion model and because it would greatly improve my status with the two terrors watching us from upstairs.”

“I’m not a fashion model.” Ashley glanced up. Both boys were ogling her and Mick.

She shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tightening against the metal.

“Besides, I wanted to thank you for going out of your way to make sure no one was hurting my daughter. Not everyone would pay that much attention to a child’s cry,” he said quietly.

“It was a mistake. I should have minded my own business. I have to go now. Goodbye.” She scooted through the door and strode down the steps toward her car. Seconds later she’d left the school—and Mick—far behind.

When she saw the sign for Lookout Point, Ashley pulled into the parking area, shut off her motor and sat there, staring across the valley, the sound of her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She hadn’t answered him about the coffee but no doubt he’d gotten the message. Mick wasn’t stupid.

And yet, it wasn’t Mick she’d met again.