Carter pivots to the chair beside E.J. where a student holds out a notebook with a pleading look. As Carter signs it, Jackie says, “You and your dad are so awesome.”
“Cash Barlowe is a punk-ass bitch,” E.J. retorts with zero hesitation.
“Ernest—” I’m ready to lay into E.J. （in a professional and appropriate manner） but Carter holds up his hand, halting me.
There’s a slight smile peeking at Carter’s mouth. “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.”
“Yep,” E.J. agrees.
I stand near E.J., wondering what will come out of his mouth next and pondering how Carter does this day in and out with a smile on his face. Though he moves efficiently （and charmingly, damn it） around my classroom, signing something for every single student, it doesn’t stop me from wanting to strangle him for showing up in the first place and “specifically” asking to visit my classroom.
When he’s made it to the last student, Principal Newman says, “We can continue the tour,” and gestures with an open hand to the door.
“I was hoping Ms. Whitlock could show me around,” Carter informs Mr. Newman.
Do not roll your eyes, Avery. Do not roll your eyes. I know for a fact not a thing changes on my face. There’s no way in hell I’ll give him the satisfaction. Unfortunately, I’m so focused on maintaining my expression that I feel my right hand form a tight fist unbidden. It happens for only a moment before I register the tension and relax it. But Carter’s perceptive eyes dart down—the man is used to reading the slightest of hand signals for a living, for crying out loud—and when his eyes meet mine again, I see recognition in them. Busted. Ugh.
“I can get someone to watch her classroom, not a problem,” Principal Newman appeases.
Him going out of his way to accommodate the star player rubs me completely the wrong way. No one else would be allowed to stroll onto campus and disrupt a teacher’s schedule.
“That’s not necessary. I’m sure Mr. Barlowe will benefit exponentially from touring with you, or perhaps he can engage in a self-guided tour.”
“Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all. When is your free period?” my principal asks me, and I know Carter has successfully enlisted me as his stupid tour guide of Canaan Falls West High School whether I want to participate or not.
“Next period, sir,” I grit out.
Principal Newman glances at his watch. “Perfect. There’s about ten minutes until the bell. I can watch the room until then.”
“Oh, no. That’s okay.” Our school’s leader has completely lost his mind, so I look to Carter. “I’ll just catch up in a few.” Go on, git, as my granddaddy used to say. Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya.
“I’ll just hang out here and watch you in action.” And then this jerk winks at me.
I only thought I wanted to deck him in the nose before. Now, it’s tenfold as he strolls to the back of the room and takes a seat at an empty desk that is too small for his large frame—beside E.J. of all students.
“Wonderful,” I mutter under my breath, knowing the next ten minutes are going to feel longer than the nine innings of baseball I sat through.
“Be sure and stop by my office before you head out.” Principal Newman exits the room, leaving me with a class where all eyes are pointed at Carter in the rear of the room.
“Okay. Where were we?” Because I have no freakin’ clue. Looking around, I see most of the attention has stayed glued on Carter. There’s no way I’ll be able to teach with him in the room. “Since class is almost over, let’s take some quiet time to get started on homework.” And for me to get a grip.
Quickly, I grab my phone from the drawer of the desk I sit behind.
Me: Change of plans. Bring something stronger than wine.
Bodie: Um. Why? Did a student ask for your autograph or something?
Me: Carter Barlowe is HERE.
Bodie: What? Why?
Me: I don’t know. He wants a tour of campus and Newman is apparently a big fan of his.
Bodie: Okay. Let me know how it goes. I’ll be at the liquor store if you need anything else.
There’s nothing there that can help me deal with Carter right now. Unless there’s a time machine he could find me. I’d go back and say no to that stupid game in a heartbeat. As if he knows I’m thinking about him, I look up to meet an amused expression on Carter’s face as he stares at me. Ballsy.
Yes. He’s definitely won this round, and we both know it because there’s no way I can run off and get away from him. And I’ll be damned if part of me doesn’t want to stick around to find out if there’s something under that arrogant grin, anyway.