Where is he?
I glance at the clock again and silently curse Owen. Cursing silently is a necessity right now since I’m standing in the middle of my preschool classroom. Owen was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago for Career Day, but so far, he’s a no-show.
“Miss Parrish?” a little voice asks. It comes out sounding more like Paris, but hey when you’re four years old, it’s the best you can do.
“Yes, Britton?” I ask, looking down to ruffle the adorable little guy’s hair.
“Fireman?” he asks with hope-filled blue eyes gazing up at mine.
I shake my head. “We already had the fireman come this morning, and then the police officer, and then the dentist, remember?”
He waves his new red toothbrush at me. “I remember.”
“Good. Now please go sit back down for circle time. We have one more guest coming to talk about his job.”
I can only stall a classroom of antsy toddlers for so long, and we passed that threshold about twelve minutes ago. If Owen doesn’t show in the next few seconds, I guess we’ll have to cut Career Day short and move onto something easy, yet stimulating. I’m thinking my extra special gooey dough. Even if I’ll probably end up having to wash chunks of it from my hair tonight, the kids love that glittery, messy concoction. It might be my only option since I didn’t plan for this scenario.
Crossing the room toward my desk, I grab my phone from inside the top drawer and glance down at a text from Owen that was sent over an hour ago.
Not going to make it. Sorry, sis!
I groan. Shit. Now what?
I rarely get the chance to check my phone during the work day so I’m just now seeing his message. I have no idea what happened, but I intend to find out later.
Well onto plan B then I guess. I’m mentally tallying if I have all the ingredients I need to make the homemade play-dough when I realize I’m going to have a bunch of disappointed little kids because they’d been so excited when I told them a player from the Seattle Ice Hawks was going to be here today.
Ugh.
I turn to face my class, and take a deep breath. I’m just about to muster a false cheery tone to tell them Owen’s visit has been cancelled when my classroom door opens.
And in walks Justin, dressed in full game-day gear. Minus the skates, of course.
My eyes widen at the sight of him. His hockey bag is slung over one shoulder and he’s holding his stick in his left hand. His eyes lock with mine and I’m sure a look of confusion is painted across my features, because what in the heck is he doing here? He gives me a lopsided smile and my insides tighten.
Applause and cheers break out among the kids as he heads straight for the front of the class.
He gives me a wink as he passes by, and then stops directly in front of the circle time rug.
“Hi, guys. I heard you were talking about careers today. Is it okay if I join you?”
Little Elsa raises her hand and Justin nods for her to go ahead.
“What is your job?” she asks, eyes wide as she takes in the sight of him.
He chuckles, the sound immediately releasing the knot of nerves I felt when Owen cancelled. My shoulders drop a few inches and I take a deep breath, hoping Justin has this covered. Just please don’t drop any F-bombs, I silently pray.
“I play hockey,” Justin says, giving her a wink.
I clear my throat and go to stand next to him. “Class, this is Justin Brady, number thirty-six, and the star forward of the Seattle Ice Hawks. Can everyone say hi?”
“Hiii, Mista Bwady,” rings a chorus of little voices.
I look to see Justin’s reaction, but he’s focused on me. His head is tilted and he’s staring down at me with a look of adoration. “Hi,” he says softly.
I blush, heat creeping up my neck and over my cheeks. “Hello,” I manage. “Thanks for coming.”
He nods once, mouth quirking up in a smirk. I can tell he wants to kiss me. But I hope that he can tell I’ll knee him in the nuts if he does that in front of my class.
Justin and I are just standing here staring at each other, obviously flirting and the sound of giggles around us pull me back to reality. Okay then. Right. Career Day. Not the day to hump the sexy-ass hockey player in front of my class.
Recovering, I draw another breath. “Today Justin is going to tell us what it’s like to have a job as a hockey player.”
I motion for him to go ahead and begin when Elsa raises her hand again.
“Yes, Elsa?”
“Don’t you mean Mister Bwady?”
I swallow a lump the size of the state of Washington and nod. “Yes. I’m sorry, Mr. Brady.”
Justin smiles again and then drops his hockey bag to his feet with a loud thump. “Show of hands … who here has ever watched a hockey game?”
All of the little hands dart up and wave around excitedly.
“That’s awesome.” Justin nods. Then he holds up his hockey stick. “And who knows what this is?”
“A hockey stick!” Britton calls out.
“That’s right. Wow. Very good.”
I grin, watching them, so thankful that Justin stepped in and saved the day. And so far, so good.
“And what about this?” Justin toes the huge black bag at his feet. “What do you think this bag contains?”
One of my most quiet and shy little boys, Jacob raises his hand to answer. “Your hockey equipment.”
Justin nods. “You’re right. Very smart. What a great class. I see Miss Parrish has taught you all well.”
Jacob beams under the praise, lowering his head as a big, proud smile overtakes his face. It’s adorable. Even if Justin doesn’t know it, I think he just made Jacob’s entire day. Maybe his whole week.
And I shake my head, smiling at the compliment he paid me. Despite what Justin might think, I don’t teach them about hockey. I’m sure they learn it from their parents and TV and well, everywhere considering the Ice Hawks are worshiped like gods in this city.
Justin fills them in on his practice and training schedule, the away games they attend and all the hard work needed to succeed as a hockey player. The kids are mesmerized by him. They hang on his every word, and nod along with his explanations. I never knew he could be so good with kids. Then again, as a pro athlete, I’m sure he’s done these kinds of things before. Only I’m guessing they were official visits to children’s hospitals and things like that, arranged by the team publicist. Either way, he’s doing great.
Then he kneels down to the floor, joining them at their level as he unzips his hockey bag. I expect to see his helmet, hockey pucks, rolls of tape, and his pads. Instead, it’s been filled to the brim with promotional items from the team. Hats, buttons, plastic cups, stickers, foam hockey pucks, t-shirts, and Justin tosses item after item to the excited little grabby hands reaching out toward him. Delighted squeals and giggles erupt through my classroom as all the goodies are handed out.
The dentist had brought toothbrushes and floss picks, the fireman had brought stickers and the policeman was cool simply because he had a gun and handcuffs and the kids were wide-eyed amazed. But Justin, handing out dozens of goodies is just too much for them to contain their excitement. Soon, he’s being high-fived and tackle-hugged and one thing leads to another, and there are like three kids climbing him like he’s the new play structure equipment.
I can’t hold in my laughter as Justin rises to his feet with one little boy riding on his shoulders, and two more draped across each of his bulky arms. Elsa wraps herself around one muscular leg and then Jacob does the same with his other leg. How he can even walk with five little bodies attached to him, I have no idea, but he does, slowly lumbering across the room amidst delighted squeals of laughter.
I didn’t think anyone would top the fireman’s visit, but clearly I thought wrong. Justin is a hit. I can tell I’m going to have a hard time wrangling them and reining in their disappointment when it’s time for him to leave. Which will be soon, because I’m sure he’s got better things to do today than wrestle a half dozen toddlers, as adorable as it is.
After a few more minutes of play, I decide it’s time to break up the fun. “Okay friends, I think it’s time for us to say goodbye to Mr. Brady and thank him for coming.”
There are a few disappointed groans as the kids release him, and even a couple of tears as I have to physically remove Elsa from his leg. Trust me, girlfriend, I get it. I really do. The guy is dreamy as fuck.
The kids thank Justin for coming, and he thanks them for letting him play, which melts me just a little further.
After he gathers his gear back up, he heads toward the door, lingering there for a moment like he has something he wants to say.
“Class, please line up at the sinks and begin washing your hands for snack. I’ll be right back.”
As Justin steps into the hall, I linger by the door, watching him.
“What was all this? Did Owen send you?” I ask, sure to keep my voice quiet.
He meets my eyes, and oh my God, I can tell again that he wants to kiss me. I cannot let that happen, no matter how tempting an offer that is.
“Owen didn’t send me. I heard him on the phone with the team trainer. He was called in for a meeting today and he was complaining about how it conflicted with coming to visit your class. In the end, he figured you would understand, and they didn’t seem to be giving him much of a choice.”
“So … what? You just had nothing better to do than spend your morning getting climbed like a jungle gym by half a dozen toddlers?” I ask in a challenging tone, raising one eyebrow to watch him.
His eyebrows pull together. “Are you mad I’m here?”
“No.” I wave my hands. “Not at all. I’m sorry. I’m grateful you’re here. Let me start over. Thank you for coming. Honestly. You saved my … backside. I’m just confused, I guess on how this all transpired.”
He licks his lips, and places one hand against my shoulder, lightly squeezing. “I wouldn’t have come unless I wanted to.”
A quick glance inside my classroom shows me that they’re halfway through washing hands and I only have another fifteen seconds at best, even though I could happily spend all day gazing up at his chiseled jaw and gorgeous blue eyes.
“Thank you, Justin. Honestly.”
His mouth quirks. “Don’t you mean Mr. Brady?”
I place one hand against his firm chest, and gave him a playful shove. “Behave.”
“I’ll think about it,” he says and I chuckle, letting my hand drop away. “When can I see you again?” he asks, his deep voice coming out almost whisper soft.
It’s disorienting being the focus of all his attention. No wonder his opponents get distracted on the ice.
I chew on my lower lip, checking on my classroom yet again. I can feel a few of them watching my exchange with the hockey stud they now obviously idolize.
“I think you just got a few new fans,” I murmur, eyes swinging back over to him.
“Answer me, Elise,” he says.
I swallow and look down at my shoes. “I’ll um, have to check my schedule and let you know.”
“You better,” he says, but his tone is gentle.
“I will. But I need to go hand out some animal crackers before mutiny breaks loose.”
He nods, his eyes filled with amusement as he gazes down on me. “You have fun with that.”
I grin. “I always do.”
