Take Another Look Read Free

will only take a minute, and you know how I dig construction.”
    â€œTrue.” While Jane had already pinched her hand assembling the damn canopy for a practice, Luke had mad physics skills. He could change a tire or bake flakey biscuits because he reveled in the science of things: the engineering of a simple lever, the chemistry of butter clumps in layered dough. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t want to give the team parents any more information about us than they already have.”
    â€œHey, nothing wrong with a fellow teacher lending a hand.” He pushed the door closed behind her and took her hand. A daring gesture, here at school. “Besides, I think they know about us.”
    â€œThey probably do.” Her fingers curled around his hand, as if holding a glimmering seashell. “But I don’t want to fan the fires.” Her reputation was important to Jane; she didn’t want to make a misstep that might start someone digging into her past. “It’s already hard for Harper, attending the same school where her mother teaches.”
    â€œI know, and I can wait.” Her nerves tingled as his thumb massaged her palm. “Three years.” That was their new deal, forged this summer over cheese, crackers, and a bottle of red wine their first night at Diamond Lake while Harper was off at softball camp. Marriage. Jane ached to take that step with Luke, to make it legal and official, to stop sneaking around like teenagers. Oh, to share a bed, split the chores, cook for each other, and stay in their pajamas until noon on Sunday. But she couldn’t do that to Harper, not while the girl was banging through the narrow tunnel of teen angst. To bring a man into the house—even a guru-saint like Luke—might derail Harper, who perceived threats in the most innocent of actions. In three years, Harper would be off to college, and there would be breathing room for all of them. Three years was the new mantra.
    â€œI want to go back to Diamond Lake,” she said suddenly.
    One dark brow lifted. “I guess that means we’re on for next summer.”
    â€œI’m so high maintenance. A single parent with a live-wire daughter.”
    â€œComplexity makes for a juicier story. You’ve got a great story, and a cute ass.”
    She squeezed his hand, then let it go. Maybe their mutual attraction was amplified by the need to keep things under wraps. Other parents got the occasional free weekend through shared custody or sending their kids off for a trip to Grandma’s. Jane envied them the free time, but this just wasn’t her season to leave the vine. “Three years,” she said.
    â€œWith a few naughty nights in between.”
    â€œLet’s hope so.” She went to the counter, to the supplies that she always found so amusing. Cotton balls, Popsicle sticks, and paper cups to build crash crates for eggs. A fat jar of pickles, for snacking and zapping with electrodes to demonstrate properties of electricity. “So how do your class lists look? The usual crowds?” Kids were always trying to finagle a spot in Luke’s conceptual physics class, and Luke, always a sucker for a good story, usually signed them in.
    He sucked air between his teeth. “I haven’t even looked. Angry Bird therapy got the better of me.” He lifted the pickle jar to his chest. “Would you like a kosher dill?”
    â€œI’m good. I’d better get out there. I just wanted to firm up plans for Friday night. Harper’s got that sleepover.” Although Luke had begun to join Harper and her for an occasional dinner, most of their time together coincided with Harper’s time away from home.
    â€œFriday works for me.” He held up the heaviest canvas bag. “So do you want me to set this up on the field? No lascivious looks, I promise.”
    â€œYour very presence out there is an admission of guilt.”
    â€œAnd