Four Little Problems. Carrie Weaver

sure it wasn’t a porn problem. Marching around the corner, she realized maybe the porn channel would have been the lesser of two evils.

      “Ja-son.” It came out high-pitched.

      But Jason didn’t seem to hear. Neither did his girlfriend, Cassie.

      Truth be told, Emily couldn’t tell where Jason left off and Cassie began, they were so intertwined. Fortunately, both seemed to be fully clothed. And there were two feet touching the floor. Cassie’s by the looks of them.

      “Cassie.” It was whispered, almost a hiss. And perfectly pitched to get through the haze of lust hanging in the room.

      Cassie shot to a sitting position, adjusting her clothes. “Um, Mrs. Patterson, hi.”

      “Time for you to go, Cass.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” She threw a geometry book in her backpack and scrambled for the door.

      “Jason, I’ve been very clear that friends aren’t allowed over when I’m not home. I would suggest you go up to your room and we’ll discuss this later.” Certain death was promised in her tone, and Jason for once heeded the warning.

      His eyes widened when he glanced past her and saw his nemesis, Patrick Stevens, standing in their living room.

      Jason vaulted the coffee table and took the stairs two at a time.

      “I haven’t seen him move that fast in months.” Emily released a shaky breath.

      “Last time I saw him move that fast was after there was a small explosion in the boys’ restroom.” Patrick’s tone was dry. He shook his head mournfully, as if to say, “What did I expect?”

      Emily wanted to sit down in the middle of the floor and cry.

      But there was still one child left unaccounted for.

      “Where’s Jeremy?”

      “Upstairs. Reading.”

      Jeremy, the good child. At least she’d been blessed with one kid who seemed to have both feet on the ground. Literally, and figuratively speaking.

      “What’s Clifford barking about?” she asked.

      Both boys shrugged.

      “He was howlin’ earlier,” Mark offered.

      Oh, no. “What did you feed him? He only howls when he’s about to—”

      Emily slapped a hand over her mouth. She advanced on the black Lab, grasping him by the collar and marching him out the door.

      That left only the two cats barreling through the house as if possessed.

      “Catnip?” She didn’t really need to ask.

      The boys nodded and giggled.

      “You two say good-night to Mr. Stevens, go brush your teeth and get to bed. And I better see clean teeth, not just wet toothbrushes. I’m on to that trick.”

      The boys stepped in front of Patrick, gazing upward with awe. “G’night, Mr. Stevens.”

      “Good night, boys,” came his strangled reply.

      Emily wouldn’t have been surprised if Patrick had run from the house screaming.

      But instead, his eyes sparkled, as if he were having a hard time containing laughter.

      And for some reason that made Emily mad.

      “Mark, Ryan, bed. Now.”

      They trotted up the stairs, the picture of obedience.

      Then Emily turned her attention to Patrick, who grinned.

      “You think it’s funny? You think you could do better? I might just leave right now. As the only adult, you’re honor bound to watch them until I get back.” She’d made up the rule, but it sounded good.

      And evidently Patrick took her at her word, because he became very serious. The Patrick she was accustomed to.

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      If he saluted, she’d have to kill him.

      Fortunately, he didn’t.

      PATRICK WAS VERY AWARE of Emily’s presence as she peered over his shoulder at the computer screen.

      “Nothing there,” she said. “Next page?”

      “You’re sure you read that?”

      “I can speed read.”

      Evidently, he must’ve allowed his shock to show.

      “What? Lots of people speed read.”

      “Yes, I’m sure you’re right.”

      “Or are you just surprised I know how to read the words with more than one syllable?”

      Patrick winced. She was dead on.

      “Why is it that men assume I must be stupid? Just because I’m, um, full-figured and tell a joke here and there.”

      He eyed her cautiously over his shoulder. She made him nervous, standing so close, her breath warm on his ear. If he turned a fraction more, he’d have a tantalizing view of the lace playing hide-and-seek with her cleavage.

      “Voluptuous and irreverent.”

      “What?”

      “That’s how I think of you.”

      “Oh.”

      Emily remained silent after that.

      He hoped she knew he meant it as a compliment. And hoped she didn’t realize how totally distracting the combination was.

      Closing his eyes, he tried to summon the image of Ari and Kat, laughing at the antics of dolphins.

      It worked. Emily’s curves were no longer an issue. Patrick was a man with a mission.

      The documents flew by, a journal-like testimonial to how overscheduled Tiffany Bigelow had been.

      Along about page four, Patrick started to sweat. Tiffany had apparently been unwilling or unable to refuse a single request for funds. A little mental math told him she’d promised more money than the PTO was likely to raise in four years, let alone four months.

      His heart sank. He no longer wanted to think about Ari and Kat at Sea World. Because, instead, all he saw was the sad acceptance in their dark eyes. And the I-knew-it-was-too-good-to-be-true slump to Kat’s shoulders. Worse would be Ari’s devastation, because he’d believed Patrick’s promises with his whole being.

      Emily’s home, a place that had initially seemed chaotic yet warm, now started to close in on him. He needed to escape, to think. To figure out some way to make this work.

      Clearing his throat, he asked, “A blank disk?”

      Emily didn’t respond.

      When he turned, he realized she’d been too shocked to speak. Her eyes were wide and unseeing, her lips trembled.

      “I said, do you have a blank disk?” His voice came out harsher than he intended.

      She leaned over his shoulder to open the cabinet door.

      He barely noticed how close those voluptuous curves were. All he could comprehend was that he was royally screwed.

      Emily handed him a floppy disk.

      She was silent as he copied the disk, then accepted her copy with a murmured thank-you. She walked him to the door, saying a quiet goodbye.

      And when he stopped in the doorway and turned, she didn’t try to conceal the sadness in her deep brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Patrick. It looks like there are going to be a lot of disappointed people. It’ll be a free-for-all for any funds we locate.”

      “Yeah, well, you do what you have to do.”