Me + You Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Brenda Gayle

  Me + You

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “…if I wait much longer

  I will be too old to be accepted into an IVF program.”

  “I could give you one of my kids on a rotating basis.” Sharon grinned. “You could take a different one every week. Heck, I’d even throw in Tom for a week, he’s almost as bad as the young ones.”

  “I’m serious!”

  “I know.” Sharon sobered. “But raising a child isn’t easy, especially if you have to do it on your own. For all I rag on Tom about being a big kid, I couldn’t manage without him.”

  “Lots of women do it,” Lori said stubbornly.

  “True,” Sharon conceded. She took a sip of her drink and then seriously observed Lori over the rim of her cup. “Okay.” She put the cup down on the table and sat up straighter. “But if you’re determined to have a child, don’t do in vitro. Find some sexy hot stud and, at least, have the fun of doing it the old-fashioned way.”

  Lori gagged on a mouthful of mochaccino, trying not to spit it out with laughter. “And where do you think I will find such a specimen?” she asked when she managed to compose herself.

  Sharon shrugged. “What about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Yummy?” She pointed over Lori’s shoulder.

  Lori swiveled in her chair and found herself staring at the crotch of a poster-sized Mark Wilder exiting one of his famous purple Jeeps. She quickly raised her gaze to the familiar stubbled chin and deep brown eyes, but not before she felt the crimson rush of embarrassment flood her face. He was the only man she’d met recently that looked better than his picture. Take a Trip to the Wild Side with Sedona’s Wilder Jeep Tours, the poster proclaimed.

  Praise for Brenda Gayle

  HEART’S DESIRE Series

  “…fast-paced, witty and fantastically fun romance.”

  ~The Cover (and everything in between)

  ~*~

  “…a ripping good story.”

  ~Manic Readers

  ~*~

  “[The characters] are both real and extraordinary…”

  ~Teresa’s Reading Corner

  ~*~

  “…this story sucked me right in and I truly enjoyed every minute of reading it.”

  ~Smitten with Reading

  ~*~

  “This is another fast moving, page turning tale…Gayle has a delicate touch with her characters’ damaged

  psyches.”

  ~The Muse Unleashed

  ~*~

  SOLDIER FOR LOVE

  “Spicy for its romance and exciting for its action; I was captured from the very beginning.”

  ~Coffee Time Romance & More

  ~*~

  “This is a story that has you turning the page, wanting to read just one more chapter.”

  ~Writers & Readers of Distinctive Fiction Review

  Me + You

  by

  Brenda Gayle

  A Candy Hearts Romance

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Me + You

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Brenda G. Heald

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by RJ Morris

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Last Rose of Summer Edition, 2016

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0499-1

  A Candy Hearts Romance

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For my husband, Bruce,

  the mathie in my life.

  Chapter 1

  Why do they always look so terrified?

  Lori Tait smiled reassuringly at the couple sitting across the table from her. The Wilders. Although, not really a couple, according to Grace’s personal information file.

  The man she’d recognize even if she hadn’t seen his name. Mark Wilder’s picture was plastered all over town as the founder and spokesperson for Sedona’s Wilder Jeep Tours. He was better-looking in person, and younger than she’d expected given the prominent silver threads in his dark hair and facial stubble. But his well-tanned complexion was smooth, with only the finest of lines around his dark brown eyes. Grace had his eyes.

  He’d be forty-ish, Lori figured. Or, maybe, she was just projecting him to be about her own age.

  The woman, on the other hand, had to be at least ten years younger—probably more. She was slim, with long dark hair and an angelic expression that radiated peace and serenity. Lori didn’t know Jade Wilder’s story, but she was familiar with the type: a spiritual seeker who’d been drawn to the area’s energy vortexes and was “on the path” to self-discovery. That explained a lot about Grace.

  The man shifted uncomfortably in the tiny chair, which was designed for a seven-year-old. After eighteen years of teaching, Lori had mastered the art of sitting in them, but parents rarely did. Their discomfort probably contributed to their worry. Not that she’d know, having never sat on the other side of the table, herself.

  “I’m very glad you could make the time to come in to see me,” she said. The couple exchanged another anxious look. “First, let me tell you that I think Grace is a wonderful little girl, and such a joy to teach.” She smiled in an attempt to reassure them.

  “Thank you,” the woman whispered in an ethereal tone.

  Mark Wilder’s deep voice boomed in comparison. “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

  “Not exactly a ‘but,’” Lori said. “I do have some concerns, though.”

  “You’re only a month into the school year,” Mr. Wilder said.

  “Yes, and normally we’d wait until mid-term to provide an assessment. In Grace’s case that’s unnecessary.” She took a deep breath. “Grace is an outstanding student in every subject except math.”

  “Is that all?” Mrs. Wilder sat back, relieved.

  “I’m afraid it’s quite serious,” Lori said. “I’m not sure how she got through first grade, given how little she understands about the basics of addition and subtraction.”

  “Have you spoken with Mrs. Bravo, her last year’s teacher?” Mr. Wilder asked.

  “I have tried to contact her, but she’s retired and has moved to Michigan to be closer to her grandchildren.”

  “Michigan?” He looked incredulous, and then grinned. “Who retires to Michigan?”

  Lori felt her heart flip. Wow, so much better-looking in person. “My thought exactly.” She returned his grin. “I’m from Minnesota, so I know what it’s like up there.”

  Mrs. Wilder stood and began circling the room. “There’s a lot of positive energy in here,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Lori replied.

  Mr. Wilder glanced over at her, then shook his head and sighed. “So what exactly are you saying, Mrs. Tait?” he said, turning back to Lori. “Does Grace need to repeat first grade
?”

  “Oh, no, I wouldn’t say that. She is incredibly bright in every other subject. Her reading is far beyond a second-grade level, as is her comprehension of the concepts we discuss in class. And, you’re probably already aware she’s a gifted artist. It is only in math that she struggles.”

  “Then there’s really not much of a problem, is there?” Mrs. Wilder said, turning away from the window. “I mean, most people aren’t good in math, but they get along quite well in life.”

  “It’s more serious than that,” Lori said. “She can’t add.”

  “There are machines that can do all that. Calculators. Computers. Who knows what gadget will be available when Grace is grown up?” She shrugged. “You recognize that Grace is gifted in other areas. I think she should be allowed to explore those areas—discover her true calling—rather than stifle her creativity by making her learn something she may never need.”

  Lori turned desperately to the father. He couldn’t possibly agree with his ex-wife. His face was impassive, only the slight twitching of his jaw belied his appearance of indifference. “What do you propose, Mrs. Tait?”

  “I think Grace should have a tutor, someone to work one-on-one with her.” Lori passed a sheet of paper across the desk. “I’ve prepared a list of names for you to consider.”

  Mrs. Wilder peered over her ex-husband’s shoulder. “I don’t want some stranger forcing math down Grace’s throat.”

  “I’ve worked with all of these people before. They’re very good with young children.”

  Mr. Wilder stood. He folded the paper and put it in the back pocket of his jeans. “We’ll discuss this and get back to you.” He took the woman’s arm and propelled her toward the door.

  Lori was stunned. That’s it? She jumped to her feet and followed them into the hallway. “Math is not some fringe subject that you can ignore. You’ll be seriously limiting Grace’s future if she doesn’t get the basics now.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Tait,” Mr. Wilder said as if he was dismissing her. “As I said, we’ll discuss it.”

  Lori watched helplessly as they retreated down the hallway. “It would be like starving her mind!” she yelled after them. Fortunately, she stopped herself before she added the rest of her thought: It’s child abuse. While she believed it, she doubted the school administration would be pleased to have her making such an accusation against a student’s parents.

  Lori walked back into the room and kicked a chair in frustration. How could they be so apathetic about their daughter’s future?

  She wandered over to the bulletin board where she’d posted the pictures that each child had drawn of their families. Grace’s picture was striking, partly because it was so much more accurately rendered than the stick-type drawings of the rest of the class. Her parents had form and depth and color. Her father was shown in shades of red, and her mother, purple. In between, Grace had drawn herself green.

  Yet, it was creating the background that had occupied most of the child’s time during class. The red and purple colors seeped from her parents, the result was neither color, but instead a cool blue. Lori didn’t know how she’d done it.

  She collected her briefcase and notes for the next day, turned out the lights, and walked out to her car. It wasn’t fair. Some people didn’t deserve to have kids.

  ****

  “I met your teacher the other day.” Mark looked up from the griddle where he was cooking pancakes for Grace. Jade had dropped her off a short time ago.

  He often wondered how Grace felt about being shuttled between the two homes, but then she’d never known anything different. He and Jade had separated when she was a year old. The marriage—hell, the whole relationship—had been a terrible mistake. He didn’t harbor any bad feelings toward his ex-wife; he actually liked and respected her. And, until their meeting with Grace’s teacher, he’d have defended her as an excellent mother, despite their different parenting styles.

  His fist clenched around the spatula as he thought about the quarrel he’d had with Jade after leaving the school. He couldn’t ever remember being as angry with her as he was right then. He’d known it was pointless to argue in front of Mrs. Tait; besides, they’d agreed, for Grace’s sake, to be publicly supportive of one another and resolve their differences in private. But presenting a united front on eating vegetables was one thing, allowing a child to fail a subject in second grade was something else entirely.

  Grace looked up from her drawing—she was always drawing. Her head was cocked to one side, and she was considering him with those big brown eyes of hers.

  Mark loosened his grip on the spatula and returned his focus to the pancakes. He needed to find a solution to the situation that wouldn’t directly contradict Jade’s wishes.

  “Mommy told me,” Grace said, returning to her drawing.

  “Did she tell you what we talked about?”

  Grace lowered her colored pencil and leaned back in her chair. She looked older and wiser than her years. Mark’s heart clenched as he thought about her future. She was already so independent; at some point she’d no longer need him, and then what would he do? Knock it off, Wilder. She’s only seven.

  “Ms. Tait wants me to get a tutor for my maths.”

  “It’s ma-th, pumpkin, and what do you think of that?”

  Grace shrugged. “I don’t much like maths, I mean ma-th. I’m going to be an artist, so Mommy says I’m not going to need it, anyway.”

  Mark picked up Grace’s drawings and replaced them with a plate of pancakes. It had been reassuring to hear Mrs. Tait confirm his daughter’s artistic ability. Jade always claimed Grace was gifted in that area, but Mark was never sure. Her pictures seemed odd to him. The people, certainly recognizable by their features, were strangely, yet consistently, colored. Mark was always red, while Jade seemed to be a muddy brown, and Grace, herself, was pale blue. But then, what did he know about art—or color, for that matter?

  He sat down across from his daughter and watched her eat for a few moments. “You’re an excellent artist, but everyone needs a Plan B in case things don’t work out. Maybe you’ll want to come work for me when you get older. Or with your mother in her store?”

  Grace took a mouthful of pancake.

  “You’re not going to be able to do that if you can’t do simple addition and subtraction,” Mark said.

  “Mommy says—”

  “Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

  Grace’s eyes flashed with annoyance as she quickly chewed and swallowed. “Mommy says math doesn’t matter in everyday.”

  Dammit Jade! Mark tamped down his frustration. “Some math doesn’t,” he said. “You don’t have to take advanced calculus or algebra to succeed, but if you can’t add or subtract how will you know how much change to give a customer in your mother’s store?”

  “There’s a machine that tells you.”

  “Okay, but let’s say you’re helping me. I’ve got a group of twenty people wanting to take the Schnebly Hill tour, but my Jeeps only hold eight, plus the driver. Are they all going to fit into one Jeep?”

  “No, silly. Twenty is more than eight.”

  “Exactly, and you know that because of math.”

  “No, I know that because of counting.”

  “Counting is math, pumpkin.” He hid his smile as she looked at him suspiciously. “I’m serious. Here, let’s figure out how many Jeeps and drivers I’m going to need for this group.” He came around the table to sit beside Grace and slid a blank sheet of paper in front of them.

  Intrigued, Grace pushed her plate away.

  “So, I’ve got twenty customers.” He picked up a colored pencil and wrote 20 at the top of the page. “And we fill up the first Jeep with eight of them, so eight of them are gone, so that’s twenty minus eight.” He drew a minus sign and the number eight beneath. “How many are left?”

  Mark looked up at his daughter, her face pinched in concentration as she stared at the formula. Maybe this was too complicated fo
r her. Maybe he should have started with something easier like two-plus-two.

  “Eight is pink, Daddy, not orange.” Grace picked up a different colored pencil and traced over the number.

  Mark refused to allow her to side-track him. “Okay, so, we can’t take eight away from zero, can we? Because zero is nothing. So we borrow ten from the twenty, and now we take eight away from ten, and that’s two, right? Then we have this one, here, which doesn’t have anything subtracted from it, so it comes down and ta-da, we get twelve.”

  As he demonstrated his work on the paper, he knew he was making a mess of things. He could talk with confidence about the geology of the region, its history, and its people, but he was no good at explaining basic math to a child. Hopefully, at the very least, his feeble attempt would show her that math was needed day-to-day—at least in his world.

  “Twelve people won’t fit in one Jeep either, Daddy.”

  “I know, pumpkin. We’d need three Jeeps and three drivers to fit everybody.”

  “Can you do that without writing it down?” Grace asked.

  “Yeah.” He smiled at her. “It’s easier in my head, but only because I learned it by writing it down, first.”

  She nodded. “Ms. Tait tells it better.”

  “I’m sure she does.”

  “Do you like her?”

  Mark was startled by the question. Grace’s teacher wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting. Considering his daughter’s previous teachers, and his own experiences, Mrs. Tait was younger and much sexier than any he’d ever known. Short blonde hair, fashionably cut; blue eyes in a nicely made-up face with rich, full lips. She’d been well dressed, too. Mrs. Bravo had preferred dull sack dresses and Birkenstocks. Mrs. Tait had worn a nice-fitting pair of slacks with a sleeveless blouse. And heels. He’d been surprised by that. “Sure, she seems very nice.”

  “I like her, too. We should ask her to come here.”

  “What for?”

  “To teach me math.”

  Come here to teach her? Mark paused. Was his incredibly wise and brilliant daughter onto something? Could this be the solution he was looking for?

  Technically, having Grace’s own teacher give her extra help wouldn’t go against Jade’s demand to not have some stranger forcing math down Grace’s throat. Were teachers allowed to do that? Would the woman even want to? She must have her own life, probably her own family to take care of. But she’d seemed very interested in helping Grace.