A Little Lesson Page 2

  Bronson nodded. There were worse things than his son being excited about starting school. “Any word from…?”

  Peg shook her head with a sad look in her eyes.

  “I sent a picture this morning, but haven’t heard anything back.” Damn Alicia’s cold, black heart. What the hell kind of mother doesn’t show up for her child’s first day of school? Bronson sighed, holding his son closer.

  He should stop expecting Alicia to care about Tucker. After five years of acting like the boy was an imposition rather than the greatest joy of her life, it was obvious she was a leopard gecko who wasn’t going to change her spots.

  XX

  “Hey guys! Sorry I’m late.” Nash slid into the red-checkered booth across from Remington James and next to Knox Keaton.

  “No worries. We ordered you your usual.” Knox pointed to the root beer float next to him, before taking a sip of his usual, a strawberry milkshake.

  “This is my favorite tradition.” Remington knocked his long-handled spoon around the bottom of his chocolate shake, pulling out a glop of ice cream and licking it off the spoon.

  Nash, Rem and Knox had all started working together on the same day at Little Wonders. Remington was the new, hot-shot principal, while Knox taught one of the first grade classes. They’d become fast friends during the prep week before their first year of school started. Every year since, the men celebrated the first day of school with ice cream shakes and apps at the Rusty Whale.

  The restaurant was a popular downtown Newburyport tourist attraction during the busy summer months, but the locals knew better to wait until after the Labor Day crowds had gone back home before venturing in.

  “Here we are boys, loaded nachos, potato skins with extra bacon and Nash’s favorite, fresh pretzels with beer-cheese sauce.” The waitress, dressed in a blue gingham uniform dress, announced all of the plates as she set them on the table.

  “Thanks, Rachel.” Nash smiled up at their waitress. She’d been serving milkshakes and bar food for as long as Nash and his friends had been coming in to eat here.

  “Sure thing, Teach. Let me know if you boys need anything else.” Snapping her gum, Rachel moved on to check on another table.

  “Huddle up.” Remington grinned while his friends leaned in closer. “Any hot dad sightings today?” He waggled his eyebrows and started laughing.

  “Just that asshole Banks guy. He’s pretty, but goes through lovers like I go through underwear.” Knox sighed.

  “He’s not that bad, is he?” Rem looked dubious.

  “I had his little darling last year. Boyd Banks is the most rotten kid I’ve ever taught in my five years at LW.” Nash shook his head. “Every time I’d call his father in for a meeting about Boyd’s behavior, Andrew Banks would tell me, to the penny, how much money he’d donated to the school, all the while licking his lips and staring at my zipper.”

  Knox shivered. “That’s exactly what he said to me when he dropped the kid off this morning. The only good thing about that man is when he’s walking away. Boy howdy, what an ass he’s got.”

  Nash rolled his eyes. Pretty didn’t pay the bills as he’d learned the hard way with Dan. He’d had to borrow money from his parents to pay that gym bill that his douche-monkey ex had run up. It was either that, or not be able to make his mortgage payment.

  “So Knox struck out.” Rem reached out to slap a hand on the first grade teacher’s shoulder. “What about you, Nash? Any keepers in your class?”

  Nash blushed, flashing back to Tucker McKinnon’s father and his dreamy green eyes.

  “HA! Look at him blushing, Knox!” Remington laughed.

  Knox knocked his shoulder against Nash’s. “Spill it. Who is he?”

  “Okay, fine.” Nash rolled his eyes and tried to get his pounding heartbeat back under control. “I don’t know his name but he’s Tucker McKinnon’s father.”

  “Damn, you met Bronson McKinnon?” Remington slapped the palm of his hand down on the table.

  “You know him?” Maybe Rem had met him last year when Tucker was in Pre-K?

  “Yeah and I’m surprised that you don’t. He’s the head librarian of the adult section at the Newburyport Public Library.” Rem dropped Knox a wink.

  “You need to stop reading Dr. Seuss and start reading some George R. R. Martin,” Knox urged. “Damn he’s fine. Divorced too.” His dark eyes danced in the low light.

  Nash shook his head. “He might be divorced, but that doesn’t mean he’s gay.”

  Rem shook his head. “I’ve seen him a couple of times when I’ve been cruising for hook-ups at Vic’s.”

  Vic’s was one of the two gay bars in town. It had a classy reputation, while Jackboots, across the Merrimack River, was a meat market. “Just because you saw Bronson there doesn’t mean he’s gay.” Nash loved the way Bronson’s name sounded rolling off his tongue.

  Knox nearly choked on his shake. “The hell it doesn’t!”

  “He’s a local boy, Nash.” Rem lowered his voice. “He knows damn well what Vic’s is and what men go there to find.”

  Maybe Rem had a point. Or maybe Bronson had just been there for dollar hot wing night. “Gay or straight, it doesn’t matter. I’m off the market, remember?”

  “Please!” Rem groaned as if he were in pain. “Don’t let that asshat ex of yours ruin your dating life.”

  Nash shook his head. “Guys, come on. I met this man once and thought he was handsome. It doesn’t mean we’re soul mates.” Did it? Could it?

  “How do you know unless you get to know him a little bit?” Rem shrugged and dug into the nachos.

  “What he said!” Knox agreed, pointing to Remington.

  Grabbing a piping hot, soft pretzel, Nash twirled it around in the cheese sauce. Maybe his friends were right. What would it hurt to get to know Bronson McKinnon?

  3

  Bronson and Tucker were waiting to get a table at Pony Express, the best breakfast place in town. Tucker loved the banana pancakes they served and after the great week he’d had at school, the little boy deserved a treat.

  Mr. Spencer had sent home a note on Friday letting him know what a joy Tucker was to have in class and that he’d made fast friends with the other kids. He’d also mentioned how enthusiastic the boy was about taking care of the classroom lizards.

  "Mr. Spencer! Mr. Spencer!" Tucker shouted jumping up and down.

  "You'll see him tomorrow, buddy," Bronson said on a weary sigh. Truth be told, Bronson was getting a little sick of hearing about the great Mr. Spencer and his reptile menagerie.

  "No, Daddy. Behind you! Hi, Mr. Spencer!" Tucker was jumping up and down while waving his arms at his teacher.

  "Good morning, Tucker." Nash was all smiles. "Good morning, Mr. McKinnon."

  "Please call me Bronson." Knowing it was a bad idea, Bronson stuck his hand out to shake. The same tingling bolt of attraction slammed through his body, but this time he was determined to ride the wave and not pull away like the feeling scared him. It did, but no one needed to know that.

  "I’m Nash." A slight blush stained his cheeks and he gripped and shook Bronson's hand.

  "McKinnon! Party of two!" the tired looking hostess shouted.

  "Do you wanna have pancakes with us, Mr. Spencer?" Tucker offered a bright smile.

  "Well, I don't know..." He tried to yank his hand back from Bronson who held on tighter.

  "Please?" Tucker begged.

  "We'd love it if you joined us, Nash." Bronson smiled, realizing he was still holding Nash's hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. He gave the teacher’s hand another squeeze.

  "Sure,” Nash agreed easily.

  Bronson kept his hold on Nash's hand and took Tucker’s with the other, dragging them both toward the hostess stand. "Hope it's not a problem to add a third person to McKinnon, party of two?"

  "Not at all." The hostess' fake smile betrayed the fact that it was a problem or an inconvenience at the very least.

  When they arrived at the table,
Bronson reluctantly dropped Nash's hand to help Tucker into the booth. He slid in beside his son, while Nash took the opposite bench.

  "Who feeds the animals on the weekend, Mr. Spencer? Do you think Spot and the other lizards get lonely without us?" Tucker got up on his knees, leaning over the table.

  Bronson grinned, shaking his head. Tucker had only asked him that question a million times since Friday.

  "That's a really smart question, Tucker." Nash smiled at the little boy. "I leave them all some extra food on Friday afternoon and then check in on them on Sunday morning. I definitely think Spot and the other lizards miss us." Nash dropped Bronson a wink.

  Bronson let loose a bark of laughter, quickly covering it up with a cough. He could see Nash was biting the inside of his cheek, and trying not to laugh along with him. He was sure all of those poor reptiles breathed a sigh of relief when the rowdy kids left for the day.

  "Are you okay, Daddy?" Tucker got up on his knees and slapped a tiny hand against Bronson's forehead.

  "I'm fine, buddy. Just choked on my own spit." Bronson stuck his tongue out at his son.

  "Eww!" Tucker giggled, falling back onto his bum in the booth. "Mr. Spencer told us that lizards use their tongue to tell the temperature."

  "Hey there, little man" A waitress stepped up to the table, holding up her hand for Tucker to high five.

  "Hi, Martha!" Tucker slapped her hand.

  "Are you having your usual?" Martha grabbed her order pad and snapped the top button on her pen.

  "Yup!" Tucker crowed loudly, smiling brightly.

  Bronson bent his head low to whisper to his son. "What do we say?" He knew Tucker was excited to see his friend and order his favorite breakfast, but he still needed to use his best manners.

  "Yes, please!" Tucker grinned at his father, who nodded in approval.

  "What's the usual, Tucker?" Nash leaned across the table as if to hear better.

  "Banana pancakes with a whipped cream face!"

  "That sounds yummy." Nash smiled at the little boy. "Can I have the same thing but with a side of bacon?"

  "Sure thing! Any friend of Tucker's is a friend of mine!" She turned her attention to Bronson. "What's your pleasure today?"

  Nash down on his knees... Bronson shook his head. Nash was the worst possible man to start crushing on. If things went tits up between them, it would be an awkward school year to say the least, especially considering there were 175 school days left in the year.

  Bronson shook his head again. He could see Martha staring at him expectantly. What the hell did he want to order? "I'll have a three egg omelet with cheddar and extra bacon."

  "Coffee for the big boys?" Martha grinned at Tucker.

  "Please," Nash and Bronson said together.

  "In stereo." Martha sounded like a Valley girl. "And one OJ for my best guy, right?"

  "Yes please and thank you." Tucker smiled proudly up at his father.

  "Great manners, buddy." Bronson wrapped an arm around Tucker and gave him a quick squeeze.

  Martha nodded and headed off.

  Bronson had every intention of trying to get to know Nash better, but now that they were sitting here together, he had no idea what to say to him.

  "I know it's cheating, but what did you do this weekend, Tucker?" Nash asked.

  "Daddy and me went grocery shopping yesterday and then we went to the li-berry and got lots of books about lizards. Then we made dinosaur chicken nuggets and smiley fries for supper and read books together." Tucker looked up at his father with a pride beaming in his identical green eyes.

  "Wow! That sounds like a great Saturday, Tucker." Nash sounded enthusiastic, but not in a fake way.

  "Why is Tucker telling you about his weekend cheating?" Bronson breathed a sigh of relief, thrilled to have a question to ask at last.

  "We start our Monday morning on the reading rug and we go around the circle telling what we did over the weekend." Nash smiled at Bronson, his eyes traveling down from his face to gaze over his chest.

  Bronson shook his head. Was Nash checking him out?

  "But don't worry, Tucker,” Nash continued. “I'll pretend to be surprised when it's your turn to share."

  "Deal! What are you doing today, Mr. Spencer?" Tucker leaned across the table on his elbows.

  Bronson rolled his eyes. "On your bum, please."

  Tucker turned to his father. "We don't say 'bum' at the table, young man." His serious tone matched the look on his face.

  Nash burst out laughing, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth.

  Bronson was able to see the humor in Tucker's words and laughed along with Nash. He couldn't help thinking what a nice laugh the teacher had. It was rich and full of happiness. "You're right, Tucker. Daddy's sorry, but you need to sit on your bottom."

  Tucker nodded, flopping back into his seat before turning his adoring eyes toward Mr. Spencer.

  "I spent time with my parents yesterday doing yard work at my house."

  "Your parents are still alive?" Tucker's jaw dropped open.

  Now it was Bronson's turn to laugh. "Tucker, I think Mr. Spencer is about my age and you spent Friday with Grams and Pop-Pop."

  Tucker nodded absently, his attention caught by Martha coming back with their drinks. "Thank you, Martha." He was all smiles when she set his orange juice in front of him in a plastic cup decorated with dinosaurs.

  "Food will be up in a sec." Martha left a carafe of coffee in the middle of the table.

  "I love yard work," Bronson said, hoping to bring the conversation back to where they'd left off.

  "Me too. I bought my house a few years ago and I've been slowly building perennial beds. They were all bloomed out for the year and I wanted to get a jump on the fall flowers and mulch pile. My mom watched the birds while my dad and I worked."

  Bronson nodded. He loved working at his parents’ house and dreamed of the day when he'd have a yard of his own to work on. "I'll be doing the same thing for my parents in a few weeks."

  "Do you live with them?" Nash asked with a careful tone in his voice.

  Bronson shook his head. "Tucker and I have a two-bedroom apartment on State Street. No yard to tend to, just a lot of brick and traffic sounds."

  Nash nodded thoughtfully. "I was going to head to Cider Mountain Farm over in Amesbury after breakfast to look at the mums."

  "I LOVE Cider Mountain Farm!" Tucker was back up on his knees again leaning over the table. "Daddy promised to take me apple picking, right Daddy?" Tucker turned back to his father, his sea foam green eyes silently pleading with his father.

  "You're right, I did." Bronson knew where Tucker was going with his line of thought. He was intrigued at the idea of spending the day with Tucker’s handsome teacher. It might be good for Tucker to see him out socializing, at least that’s the line he sold himself.

  "I've never been apple picking..." Nash trailed off, smiling at Bronson.

  Bronson knew when he was outnumbered. He'd only planned to go home and watch the Patriots game this afternoon. "Nash, would you like to come apple picking with us?"

  "I thought you'd never ask!" Nash flipped Bronson’s coffee cup over and started pouring.

  XX

  An hour later found them looking for a place to park at Cider Mountain Farm. Nash had agreed to drive over with the McKinnons since it was so hard to find a place to park on fall weekends and it would be doubly hard to find two open spots.

  The "mountain" at Cider Mountain Farm was really just a high hill studded with apple trees. Some of the trees were so heavy with fruit that they bent toward the ground, which was littered with fallen apples. Those apples were either eaten by deer or were picked up and used to make their namesake cider.

  Nash had spent the fifteen minute ride to the farm surreptitiously studying Bronson as he drove the Chevy SUV. Tucker had been surprisingly quiet in the backseat after his father turned on a movie for him.

  He couldn't help but admire Bronson's broad right shoulder and bicep. It was all Nas
h could do not to lick his lips.

  "We're here!" Bronson announced when he'd parked the car.

  "Apple pickin', here we come!" Tucker shouted.

  Nash turned his head to see the little boy, in his enthusiasm, struggling to escape from his car seat.

  Bronson turned to grin at Nash before hopping out of the SUV to open Tucker's door.

  Releasing his own seatbelt, Nash couldn't help but think this was the first time in his five year teaching career that he'd spent time outside the classroom with a student and parent. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake by listening to the lusty ravings of his cock.

  "Hold my hand, Tucker," Bronson urged.

  "You too, Mr. Spencer!" Tucker waved his free hand at his teacher.

  Nash couldn't resist Tucker's enthusiasm and took the little boy's hand. He smiled inwardly at the happy look on Bronson's face as they walked together. From the outside looking in, they must have looked like a family.

  "Mr. Spencer? Do lizards eat apples?" Tucker looked up at his teacher with an expectant look on his face.

  Nash shook his head. "Some lizards are omnivores, which means..."