"Alexander," she croaked. "What–"
He halted. Then, the same purposeful blink, just like a few minutes ago, wiped away the intense focus from his gaze.
"What are you doing?" Jackie asked.
It was not difficult to figure out what, obviously; but she was too bedraggled to just leave it alone. Also, he had been her pupil before. The whole Dying-Animal-Flanders-Point-esque crush that teens tended to develop on their teacher - even on the likes of her - was nothing out of the ordinary. She just didn't expect someone to 'relapse' after so many years.
He straightened up. His face expressed exactly nothing. She clearly wasn't getting a response.
"Thank you for the ice pack," she muttered and stuffed a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.
"You're welcome," he answered and threw a quick glance at his watch. It looked like something Darth Vader would wear. "Another seven and a half minutes for the compress. I can tape your ankle after that. Would you like me to call you a cab to the surgery?"
"I'm not going to the surgery," Jackie said firmly. "Once we tape it - and again, thank you for helping me! - I'll just return to the B'n'B. And tomorrow my ankle will be all good for more house hunting." She didn't manage to keep her frustration out of her voice. "Oh, I just realised!" she exclaimed. "Am I keeping you away from work?! You've got a shop to run! Let me just–"
She jerked, and his palm heavily lay on her shoulder.
"Another four minutes," he said and immediately took his hand off. "Eat your ice cream."
By the time she'd scraped every little drop from the bottom of the bowl, he'd taped her ankle and even put the shoe back, with her permission, of course. She'd had a small wobbly on each stage - but he'd simply ignored her squawking.
Once they both finished their labours, he took the tray away and returned. For some reason, he kept brushing water off his wet hands.
"Are you staying in Fleckney?" he asked, stopping in front of her.
"Blimey, we didn't have a proper moment to catch up, did we?" Jackie said with an embarrassed laugh. "Yes, I am. I was hired to take over the Headmistress' position in the Comprehensive. And of course, how could I say no?"
He drew his thick black eyebrows together.
"What agency are you using?" he asked and walked around his desk. He pulled his mobile out of the drawer. It took her a moment to realise he was talking about her looking for a place. "Most Fleckney cottages are lettings," he continued. "What's your price range?"
A shocked laugh burst out of her, and she shook her head.
"Gosh, Alexander, you're all grown up!"
His furrow deepened. "I am a grown-up."
"I know," she said, still chuckling. "It's just such a reminder of how old I am! You all are still children in my mind."
He slowly put the phone down on his desk and approached her.
"I own three cottages in Fleckney, two in Fleckney Fields, one on the outskirts of Fleckney Woulds," he said levelly, stretching a hand with a cardstock rectangle to her. "Please pass my card to your agent. I would like them to have a look at my properties."
"But, Alexander, I can't!"
"Why?"
"Because it's... nepotism! Would you offer it to someone other than me? It's just because I was your teacher before, and because you–" She bit her tongue.
YOU ARE READING
Her Melting Point
RomanceJocelyn Burns returns to the county of Fleckney after ten years of building her teaching and education administration career in Bristol. She's divorced, disillusioned in romance and any sort of closeness, and set in her ways. When she's approached b...