Don't Bet On It Read Free Page A

you studying?”
    â€œMBA.”
    That was a good vague degree. “What line of work are you aiming for?”
    He didn’t answer, just acted like there’d been no question. Then he shifted. “So, you’ve pumped me for intel… what are you doing in Verdeville?”
    I explained I’d gone to school in Chattanooga and also didn’t want the big city life. “Moved here five years ago. I teach at Verdeville Elementary.”
    He didn’t ask about my love life and I wouldn’t have told him anyway. Besides, not much to tell. Leaving the large city had also left behind a considerable proportion of the potential dating pool. My social life in Verdeville could be characterized by about one date per semester… and approximately half of those had been blind dates arranged by meddlesome friends or colleagues at school.
    I had already decided to decline dessert, but he never even offered.
    He obviously had something else in mind, but what?
    Brett gave me the eyes again — extremely disconcerting. Then he spoke slowly as though each word had been rehearsed. “I understand that you came here grudgingly… and I can appreciate the likely reasons why. I can also imagine this meal has been less than pleasant for you since anyone in your, uh, position would suspect that I might behave inappropriately…”
    The thought had definitely crossed Joan’s mind — and mine.
    â€œâ€¦or otherwise take advantage of your reluctant presence.”
    I realized I’d started to tune out his words because I was waiting for him to pull out a knife and haul me off to a corner like they’d do on TV crime shows. He didn’t.
    â€œBut I’d still like to have a pleasant meal with the regular Chloe Watson…”
    So what did he think I was… chopped liver?
    â€œâ€¦so I have another proposition.”
    Okay, here we go . “Don’t bet on it, buddy. I’m not jumping through any hoops for you, whether I have fifteen minutes or fifteen hours.” I’d been loaded for bear all evening and was about to let him have it.
    Brett held up both hands, flat. “Whoa, you haven’t heard my proposition yet.” His hands returned to the plastic table’s stained surface. “And this does not involve a bet.”
    It took my adrenaline a moment to settle. Meanwhile, I sat back in my chair with my arms folded tightly across my chest. “Explain.”
    He smiled… not a big smile, but one which suggested he knew he had me again. I couldn’t see how, but I wasn’t able to peer into his brain like he could apparently read mine with those bright blue eyes. “I know most schools are always raising funds for supplies and other supplemental programming which regular institutional budgets don’t usually allow for.”
    I nodded without realizing it.
    â€œAnd being a civic-minded supporter of public education, I want to make a donation to your classroom for whatever materials you and your students need.”
    By pure practiced reflex, I extended my hand to accept his check.
    Another smile. “But I don’t have it on me, so we’d need to arrange another meeting…”
    â€œOh no, you don’t. Just mail it to the school board or drop it off at the principal’s office—”
    â€œHang on, you’re jumping the gun. Donations at those levels always evaporate before they reach the classroom — I know all about this because my mom was a teacher. So I’m just trying to get this supplemental funding directly into your hands, for the students who need it.”
    He was right, of course. And if he’d picked any other of a hundred poorly funded programs, I could have just tossed my paper napkin into his face and stalked away. But he’d deliberately chosen the single cause he knew I couldn’t sidestep. “How generous of a donation?”
    His eyes bored blue holes into my