Stand-In Mom. Megan Kelly

“Food allergies. I’m glad I asked. I was thinking about bringing lunch for everyone at Shelby’s table sometime.”

      “You’ll need to keep that with you, then. It would be best to send home a note with the boys and ask Ms. West to call you. She’s also in charge of the Valentine’s party.”

      “Thanks.”

      He continued to stare, but she refused to fidget. He was too close, too tempting.

      “Was there something else?”

      Scott’s lips firmed. “I guess not.”

      He left, taking the tension with him. Ginger retrieved Shelby’s thin file, checking for her birthday. She closed her eyes. January twenty-first. Fifteen days. Not nearly enough time to prepare to see Scott again.

      Curiosity conquered her better intentions, and she scanned the student information form Scott had filled out when he registered his daughter. Sole custody. No info filled in on the mother, but nothing flagged her as a potential threat, either. At least not as far as kidnapping Shelby went. The threat to Ginger was harder to gauge. Memories could be more difficult to fight than a flesh-and-blood, fallible woman.

      After school, Ginger went home, glad she didn’t have papers to grade for once. She had lessons to prepare, of course, and reading to do—that was a given. Maybe after, she could stretch out in front of the fireplace with a novel for some escapism. What a luxury. Papers had to be reviewed for the upcoming evaluation reports, but those could wait another night.

      A glance into her refrigerator reminded her of another thing she’d put off for “another night.” That Scarlett O’Hara character was a bad influence. With a sigh, Ginger dragged out some questionable lettuce, a squishy pink tomato that made her long for summer, and a limp cucumber. Disgusted that she’d even consider making this into a salad, she pitched it all into the trash. Tonight, she’d take her recreational reading to a corner booth at the Panera restaurant, sitting with her back to the room so she might pass unnoticed, then force herself to the grocery store.

      SCOTT PULLED INTO A SPACE in the lot at the Piggly Wiggly. Both his girls were keyed up after their first full day at school. Serena hadn’t stopped chattering about Miss Tara, Dylan’s wife, or Miss Betty, Rena’s teacher, who was also Dylan’s mom. She’d placed Serena in her class. He felt better about leaving her at the Wee Care, since he knew someone who’d been raised by the woman spending so much time with Serena. Having his boss’s wife there helped, too. Not that he hadn’t called the day care’s references and the school district and checked into both thoroughly in December before enrolling his girls. But he appreciated the personal touch and peace of mind Dylan’s family provided.

      Dark had fallen two hours before, but he insisted they shop for food before going home.

      Then he saw Ginger lifting a canvas tote bag full of groceries into her trunk. His stomach dropped. He couldn’t make his hand turn off the engine. Seeing her today had been ridiculous. He wanted to touch her, stroke her hand, kiss her lips. Call her for a date—a real date, going out first to dinner or a movie or both.

      First. He closed his eyes. That was the clincher. He wanted her under him, surrounding him, loving him. And then he felt sick. While he still regarded being with another woman as a betrayal of his vows to Samantha, he couldn’t start a relationship.

      But he couldn’t seem to stay away from Ginger, either. And in a town with a population under three thousand, it was more than likely he’d run into her on occasion.

      “Aren’t we going in the store?” Shelby asked from the backseat.

      Ginger rammed the metal shopping buggy into the cart corral and rushed back to her car, head bent against the bitter wind.

      “No.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s wait till tomorrow. We’ll drive through and get food tonight.” So much for not resorting to fast food too often.

      “Goody,” Serena said. “I’m hungry.”

      “Wow,” Shelby breathed. “Twice in one day?”

      Scott grimaced. Great example I’m providing. “Let’s see if this town knows how to do barbecue like home.”

      He pulled out after Ginger’s silver Honda, smiling at her license plate: EDUK8. Her car would be easy to locate in a parking lot, except maybe at school. She turned left, and he swung in behind her.

      A glance in the rearview mirror assured him neither girl noticed the wrong turn he’d taken. And why would they? Not only was this a strange place for them, they weren’t old enough to know all the routes around town. Only his guilt had him checking for their reaction. Thoughts of Samantha rode shotgun.