One Broke Girl by Rhonda Helms Page A

it’s easier if you ask them each a direct question instead. That way they can stay focused and not start yelling.”
    Shit. My face burned with embarrassment. My nod was stilted. “Sure. Sorry.”
    He dragged a chair over, sat beside me then leaned close, and his lips almost brushed my earlobe. “You’re doing great. Just trying to help a bit since you seem nervous. Don’t let me get in your way though. You’re the expert here.”
    I was in a kindergarten classroom, surrounded by five-year-olds, but all I could focus on was the way his breath caressed my skin, how my flesh came alive from the brief contact. Need coiled in my belly, and I bit my lower lip, giving him a smile I was sure wasn’t as friend-like as I’d intended it to be.
    For the next couple of minutes, I talked about how food could be grouped into different categories, that it was important to eat lots of fruits, veggies and grains.
    “Who knows what a carrot is?” I asked.
    “A vegetable!” the high voices yelled back at me.
    I beamed and clapped. “You guys are super smart!”
    “Miss Parker,” a sweet-faced black boy said from the front row, his hand flapping in the air. “What group do beans fit in?”
    I paused. Shit, I had no idea. Vegetables maybe? “Um…”
    “My mommy said tomatoes are fruit, but they don’t taste sweet,” another girl added. “Why?”
    “What’s a parsnip?” a third kid yelled.
    “Hold on,” I declared and pulled out my phone with one hand, the other flying up to stop their questions. “The wise person knows that when she doesn’t know something, she takes the time to look up the right answers. So I’m going to use my phone to help me find these answers, okay?”
    Gavin stayed quiet by my side as I fielded all their weird food questions through the power of Google search. We learned that beans were considered protein, that tomatoes were, indeed, a fruit, and that parsnips looked like carrots but were an earthy light brown color and tasted nutty.
    “Okay, everyone,” Gavin finally said as he stood. “Let’s show Miss Parker how much we appreciate her time.”
    The class burst into applause, and I stood and curtseyed. A few giggles erupted from kids, who stood to curtsey back to me.
    “And now it’s quiet time, so let’s find our napping spots.” Gavin took my elbow and led me to the door as the kids jumped off the rug, grabbed their mats from their cubbies and dropped to the ground. “Thank you,” he whispered with a genuine smile, appreciation ringing in his eyes. “I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight as thanks.” He paused. “Strictly in friendship, of course.”
    I was blindsided by the disappointment that hit me from those last words, which made me feel ashamed of myself. These terms had been at my insistence. Guilt made me tip my chin up and give him a fake, broad smile. “I’d be delighted. Thank you.” I gave him my number in case he needed to reach me, and when he took my phone to enter in his number, his fingers brushed the tips of mine.
    The whole way home, I tried to not focus on the delicious sensations of Gavin’s bare skin on me.
     
     
    “This is probably the best burger I’ve ever had,” I declared as I took a massive bite of the cheeseburger. I closed my eyes and enjoyed. It had been far too long since I’d been able to eat a meal that hadn’t come from a package.
    Gavin’s chuckle was low. “Glad you’re enjoying it. This is one of my favorite places.”
    We were currently seated in a booth at a burger joint in a nearby town. Gavin had insisted on picking me up and driving, which was good since I didn’t think it would be a comfortable ride for both of us on my bike. I had on a form-fitting sweater, a pretty floral skirt and my sassy red heels. I’d told myself that I was simply excited to have a reason to dress nicely. That, as a friend, Gavin would appreciate my effort.
    But seeing the brief, heated look in his eyes as he’d seen my bare legs had