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Her Family Wish
Betsy St. Amant
SNAPSHOT OF A HAPPY FAMILY Taking pictures of other people’s happiest moments is the perfect job for Hannah Hart. Secretly fearing that she won’t ever have a family of her own, Hannah prefers to hide behind the camera. Until she meets assistant principal Jude Bradley, whose twelve-year-old daughter instantly bonds with Hannah.Jude might just be the man to give Hannah a reason to smile—if he can let go of the past. The more Hannah and Jude discover they have in common, the more Hannah wonders if there’s a family in her future after all.


Snapshot of a happy family
Taking pictures of other people’s happiest moments is the perfect job for Hannah Hart. Secretly fearing that she won’t ever have a family of her own, Hannah prefers to hide behind the camera. Until she meets assistant principal Jude Bradley, whose twelve-year-old daughter instantly bonds with Hannah. Jude might just be the man to give Hannah a reason to smile—if he can let go of the past. The more Hannah and Jude discover they have in common, the more Hannah wonders if there’s a family in her future after all....
“I’m sorry I made you uneasy yesterday. I let a personal matter affect my reaction to your generous offer, and I apologize.”
Hannah waited for details, but Jude didn’t offer them. “I’m sorry if I offended you.” She still couldn’t imagine how an offer of a free photo shoot would offend, but obviously it was possible.
“It was my fault alone.” He hesitated, and Hannah searched his gaze, eager to see his secrets but not sure why it mattered so much. She quickly looked away. She had no business teasing herself with the attraction she felt. It was surely one-sided.
“Thanks for saying so.” She drew a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze. Then she realized she’d just provided him with a full view of her scarred cheek, and she looked the opposite way.
Jude’s gaze followed the motion, and a flush rode up Hannah’s neck. Definitely one-sided. He had no reason to be attracted to her, and a three-inch reason not to.
Her Family Wish
Betsy St. Amant


And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.
—Romans 8:28
Contents
Chapter One (#ucd3bf465-0d13-557b-a312-22decd78160e)
Chapter Two (#u9ac16738-c3c8-506e-8ec7-510089d98d17)
Chapter Three (#u804cdedd-7e95-5ab3-a070-8082fa80dcb7)
Chapter Four (#ua07e938c-debf-5473-98fc-d6d2730716f4)
Chapter Five (#u51432a98-7da6-5115-b6db-8865f4b23210)
Chapter Six (#u02bce011-f541-5e9d-a414-a38c744aa39c)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
The only thing Hannah Hart hated more than mirrors was the spotlight.
“Class, this is Ms. Hart.”
Hannah stared at the rows of young teenagers staring back at her, and offered a tentative smile as her best friend and art teacher, Sophia Davis, continued her glowing introduction.
“Ms. Hart is the owner of Hannah Hart Photography.” She rambled on about Hannah’s business and achievements. The kids didn’t look all that impressed. One blew a bubble with her gum, which Sophia quickly confiscated with a piece of paper.
Hannah crossed her arms awkwardly over her navy suit jacket, feeling her face heat even as her skin grew clammy. Being a photographer didn’t exactly qualify her to teach photography to a junior high fine arts class, but when Sophia had pleaded with Hannah to come, she couldn’t say no. How could Hannah turn down the chance to share her lifelong love of photography with a whole set of potential future photographers?
Even if they were staring at her like she was some sort of sideshow.
Your scar isn’t going anywhere, Hannah. You might as well get used to it. The car wreck that left a jagged line from her cheekbone to her chin might have happened two years ago, but the effects lingered. She pressed a hand to her stomach. All of the effects.
“Let’s try to show her a little more respect than you guys show me, huh?” Sophia winked at the students as she tossed the gum-filled paper in the wastebasket, and a few of them giggled.
A petite blonde teen in the front row caught Hannah’s eye, her hair plaited in thick braids. She wore a plaid dress that seemed severely old-fashioned compared to the stylish appearance of the other girls. Still, the outdated look didn’t take away from her striking blue eyes and naturally thick lashes, all set within a cheekbone structure that would make many models jealous.
Hannah instinctively turned her head, tilting her good side toward the kids. Surely none of them would ask her about her scar. She was used to young children in their innocence and naïveté asking personal questions while on a photo shoot, but this was different. These kids were old enough to know better—she hoped.
“Hannah brought her camera today to show us a little about the technical side of photography.” Perched on the edge of her desk, Sophia motioned for Hannah to take center stage—as if it were that easy. Maybe if Hannah’s skin was as flawless as her best friend’s, her confidence level would be a few notches higher. But that wasn’t fair. She wouldn’t wish her insecurities on her worst enemy, much less the friend who walked Hannah through the first weeks after her accident.
Sophia pointed a finger at the kids. “Any questions you have along the way, go ahead and ask—by raising your hand.”
Hannah swallowed the nerves rising in her throat and hoped her smile appeared more natural than it felt. They’re just kids, Hannah. You photograph them all the time. The reminder did little to ease her anxiety. Kids still had eyes—judging, questioning, curious eyes.
“Hey, guys.” Her greeting came out froggier than she intended. Hannah quickly cleared her throat, then pulled her Nikon from her camera bag. Simply holding the equipment in her hands gave her an emotional boost, and she looped the strap around her neck for safety before holding it out before the class.
“This is a photographer’s best friend—her camera,” Hannah said. She pointed to each part as she defined the various terms. “And over here is a self-timer.” Not that she used that feature much anymore. She preferred staying behind the camera to being on film herself these days.
“Can we hold it?” a brunette girl asked without raising her hand.
Hannah’s mouth opened with uncertainty, but Sophia quickly intervened. “Not on your life. Next question?” She gestured to a boy in the second row. “Kent?”
“How much do photographers get paid?” He grinned, his freckles streaming together across his cheeks.
“That all depends on if a photographer works for a company or as an individual.” Hannah smiled back, feeling a bit of tension finally ease from her neck with the honest questions—that didn’t involve her face. “Of course we could chalk it up to not enough, and leave it at that.”
The pretty blonde she’d noticed earlier actually raised her hand, the first one to do so, and Sophia pointed at her. “Go ahead, Abby.”
Abby brought her arm back down to her side. “Are we going to discuss lighting soon? I don’t have a real camera, just the one on my phone. But I always seem to get shadows in the wrong place when I take pictures with my friends.”
Hannah nodded, impressed with the depth of her question. “We’ll discuss lighting techniques before the end of the course. That’s one of the most important aspects of photography.”
“Good.” Abby sat back in her chair, excitement shining in her eyes. “Thanks.”
Such a polite kid. Looking at Abby and the rest of the class, Hannah felt like she was staring at a page from her favorite childhood magazine. Which of these does not belong? Not only in appearance, but in intellect, manners and decorum. Abby seemed like she’d be a ray of sunshine during this course compared to the other students, judging by the disinterested expressions on the majority of faces.
Hannah finished her presentation and when the bell rang, Sophia dismissed the class without giving any homework. “Don’t think this is a habit,” she hollered over the sound of notebooks being crammed into backpacks and the scraping of chairs on the worn floor.
A multitude of groans echoed in the students’ wake, and Sophia turned to Hannah with a sheepish grin. “So some are more interested than others. What can I say?”
“They’ll warm up.” Hannah packed her equipment in her camera bag and rested the bag on Sophia’s wooden desk. “Besides, didn’t you say you only needed me once or twice a week?”
“Not that you’re counting,” Sophia teased. “But yes, that’s what I said. We’ll see if I meant it.” She winked. “Don’t forget you promised to help me carry over some of the lessons and applications into CREATE so we can get more hands-on—at least with the kids who want to.”
CREATE was an after-school club Sophia had started last year that was a big hit with some of her more motivated students, the ones who wished to dive deeper into the fine arts. Hannah smiled. “I won’t forget. Today might not be the best indicator of group interest, but some seemed more into it than others. Abby actually looked excited about it all.”
“She’s a good egg.” Sophia slid several colored binders into a tie-dyed tote bag. “Most of the time, anyway.”
Hannah frowned. “What do you mean? She was an angel today compared to the rest.”
“Her father is Judah Bradley, the assistant principal. That doesn’t exactly make her class favorite.” Sophia shrugged, her curly red hair cascading around her shoulders. “Besides that, I think she’s finally starting to realize she’s Little House on the Prairie compared to the other girls, if you know what I mean.”
“Well, she’s beautiful regardless.” Hannah rested her weight against the desk. That was the other thing that made Abby stand out from the rest of the girls in the class—she didn’t seem to realize how gorgeous she was. From Hannah’s side of the camera, that was almost unheard of. Most teens wanted to cake on the makeup and reveal as much as possible, not realizing the depth of their young beauty was still natural.
Sophia tugged the straps of her tote over her shoulder. “Jude’s a single dad, and she’s at that age now where they’re butting heads over everything. I’ve overheard more than a few teachers discussing conversations they’ve overheard.”
“It could be rumors,” Hannah pointed out. She’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.
Sophia shrugged. “Either way, it’s obvious they’re having a rough time of it lately. But thankfully Abby’s a really smart kid.”
“I think so, too.” A deep baritone sounded from the open door of the room, and Hannah jerked upright as a man in a dark suit strolled toward them. His sandy brown hair, short and gelled, brought out the deep blue of his eyes that had obviously been passed down to Abby. He shoved his hands casually in his pockets as he came to a stop beside Sophia. “Are you going to introduce me to your new assistant, or just discuss my family life?” A soft smile took the edge off his words, though his expression still meant business.
“Principal Bradley, I’m so sorry.” A rare blush crept up Sophia’s neck and Hannah felt one of her own crawling up her chest. “This is Hannah Hart.”
“Nice to meet you.” Jude extended his hand. “Please, call me Jude.”
Hannah shook it, and an instant spark jolted from her wrist to her elbow. She quickly pulled her hand back and forced a smile, hoping the blush hadn’t made its way to her ears yet. A red face only made her scar that much more obvious.
“Nice to meet you, too, Jude.” His name rolled off her lips too easily, and her stomach churned a reaction she hadn’t felt in years. Don’t be ridiculous, Hannah. You were caught gossiping about him. You don’t stand a chance. Not that any man that looked like Jude would glance at her twice anyway, unless they were ogling her scar. Her ex-fiancé had made that clear enough.
He crossed his arms over his dress shirt. “How was the first class on photography?”
“I think it went pretty well, considering.” Hannah willed her stomach to settle. “Some of the kids seemed more interested than others.” She gestured to Sophia. “We were discussing how attentive Abby was.”
“Glad to hear it. She’s a good student.” Jude nodded briskly. “And it was nice of you to volunteer to do this for our school. I’m sorry we can’t pay you for your help.”
“I’m happy to do it,” Hannah answered honestly. Maybe she wasn’t so thrilled at first, but she couldn’t help but feel especially happy about it now while standing in front of Jude. His gaze lingered on hers for a moment, and despite his polite smile and clean-shaven, professional appearance, a shadow lingered in his eyes. Hannah tilted her head to one side, recognizing the emotion she’d lived with for years—regret. She couldn’t even imagine the struggles of life as a single parent, much less as a single dad. No wonder Abby seemed so out of fashion. Jude probably had his hands full keeping them above water, never mind trying to pay attention to the latest styles.
Eager to brighten Jude’s obviously overworked day and make up for her embarrassing gossip blunder, Hannah gestured toward her camera bag. “I couldn’t help but notice how photogenic your daughter is. I’d love to do a portrait session with her, for free of course—or even a family photo, if you’d be interested. It’d be great for my portfolio.” Not to mention their own personal collection of memories. She doubted family pictures were something a single dad would think of keeping up with over the years. Her excitement grew at the idea of helping them out. “Would you be interested?”
Jude’s smile slowly faded and his eyes darkened as a sudden storm clouded the depths of blue. “No, I wouldn’t. But thanks.”
Shock cemented Hannah’s mouth shut, and before she could react, Jude turned and nodded at Sophia. “See you ladies tomorrow.” Then he strode away as quickly as he’d appeared.
Chapter Two
Jude slid into the driver’s seat of his silver sedan beside Abby, mentally kicking himself as he fastened his seat belt and fished for the key. Talk about a bad first impression. He’d practically snapped at Ms. Hart—Hannah—over nothing at all, at least as far as she was concerned. She couldn’t have known that nothing was indeed something. He’d been hurrying past the art room on his way to his office when he’d heard Abby’s name from inside. The entire incident was his own fault for eavesdropping, but he had a right to know what teachers—and volunteers—were saying about his daughter.
Especially lately, with Abby’s first hint of teenage rebellion jump-starting like a Camaro off the line. A too-familiar headache pinched Jude’s temples, and he rubbed his forehead before cranking the engine.
From the passenger seat, Abby quirked a curious eyebrow. He tried not to notice the Look with a capital L and forced what he hoped resembled a carefree smile. “Sorry I’m late. Forgot something in my office.” And had been more than a little sidetracked along the way. He backed out of the parking lot, ready to get home and get out of his suit—and away from the memories of Hannah’s beautiful smile. “How was your day?”
Abby zipped the backpack shut at her feet and wrangled into her seat belt, ignoring the question and jumping straight into the obvious. “What’s wrong with you?”
He clenched his jaw. “Just a stressful day, honey.” He couldn’t tell Abby he’d snapped at a teacher’s assistant—not exactly the role model image he kept desperately trying to project.
Residual anger at his ex boiled in his stomach. Miranda, how could you put me in this position? Not that she could hear him anymore from whichever gravesite in California she resided in. In fact, she hadn’t heard a word he’d said ever since their jaunt down the aisle when they were practically teenagers themselves.
He drew a deep breath to clear his head. “More budget issues. The usual.” It wasn’t a lie. The strained school budget was stretching to the point of snapping like a rubber band, and he couldn’t help but flinch every time he came near the paperwork—or Head Principal Coleman, who had sent an email today indicating one of the school electives would be cut.
“I saw you go into Ms. Davis’s room after school.” Abby twisted in her seat to face him as he pulled onto the frontage road. “Did you meet Ms. Hart?”
Jude kept his eyes on the traffic, partly for safety but mostly because he knew Abby’s game. Her slightly-higher-pitched-than-usual tone proved she was feeling him out about the pretty new assistant. She’d used the same pitch about her fourth grade gym coach, her fifth grade room mother, and her sixth grade math teacher. Matchmaking ran thick in Abby’s blood—yet made him want to run the other way. He’d dated here and there, but no one had been worth risking his heart over. It looked like his dream of having a big family would have to wait a little while longer. He might be over Miranda, but the effects of the woman lingered like a bad perfume.
“Yes, I met her.” He kept his voice level, even as traitorous thoughts of Hannah flitted in his mind. His hands tightened on the wheel. So what if she was attractive? So what if her silky dark hair danced across her shoulders with each turn of her head? So what if her eyes shone such a rich brown it took him a full minute before he noticed the three-inch scar marring her cheek?
None of that mattered. Hannah took pictures for a living, and now taught the skill to the students—to his Abby. His stomach clenched as he flipped on his blinker. If this wasn’t a credit-counting elective and if missing several weeks wouldn’t set Abby back to the point of likely failing, he’d pull her out to avoid the whole photography unit. But that would raise questions—no one would understand why.
Especially not Abby.
“Did you think she was nice?” Abby pressed, yanking the tie off one of her braids and combing her hair with her fingers.
“I only spoke with her for a minute, sweetie.” Long enough to know he was glad this was a temporary course. He could grit his teeth for a few weeks and make the best of it. Surely Abby wouldn’t be corrupted to the point of becoming like her mother in less than a month—right? After all, photography wasn’t modeling. But it was close enough to make him uneasy. What if Abby learned so much about the behind the scenes part that she decided she wanted to learn about being in front of the camera, too?
That would be the first step of many—and one he couldn’t allow.
Abby flipped the visor down to check her reflection in her mirror. She rubbed her bare face with her fingers and sighed. “Lindsey was wearing makeup today.”
Jude fought the automatic parental response threatening to roll off his tongue about friends and bridge jumping. “We’ve talked about this before, Abby. Twice, actually.”
“But it doesn’t make sense.” Abby shut the visor with a snap as Jude pulled into the driveway of their modest, ranch-style home. “Most of the girls in my class wear makeup now. I’m almost thirteen.”
“You don’t need makeup.” Jude hoped his voice conveyed the same finality he felt in his heart. “And you won’t be thirteen for a few months.” Three and a half, to be exact, and he was clinging to every last second. Although it felt like Abby had been a teenager for at least a year already. He shifted into Park and turned off the ignition. And to think he used to dread the terrible twos.
Abby made no move to get out of the car. “I’m not talking about black eyeliner and hot pink lipstick. Just a little lip gloss and mascara.”
Maybe that was all for now. But as Miranda taught him, inches gave way to miles, and if Jude gave in today, Abby would be on the fast track to false eyelashes and stilettos. Begging to wear makeup would lead to begging for professional head shots and the next thing he knew, he’d have created a monster.
Again.
“Don’t push this. My decision stands.” Jude tugged off his seat belt, exhaustion knotting his neck.
She snorted. “If my mother were still alive she’d—”
“Abby!”
“What? It’s not my fault she died when I was little. You never want to talk about her, and that’s almost as annoying as your stupid rules.”
Abby might have the details wrong, but the main truth of that statement smacked Jude in the stomach like a boxing glove. She was right—he didn’t want to talk about Miranda. Didn’t want Abby to know the truth about her mom. The mother figure she’d made up in her head all these years had kept Abby from feeling rejected, kept her from insecurities she shouldn’t have to face at such a young age.
It just made Jude the bad guy.
Her tirade finished, and knowing she’d crossed a line, Abby wisely remained silent as she unbuckled her seat belt and threw open the car door. She stomped up the stone walkway to the house, where she waited with her back rigid for him to come with the keys.
Jude took his time pulling his briefcase from the backseat, giving them both a little space to cool off. Maybe he was being strict, but Abby didn’t understand. If she knew what her mother had done, had become, she’d get it. But he couldn’t tell her now, not during this sensitive time in her life. The teen years were hard enough without discovering your mother abandoned you as a kid because she preferred the bright lights and airbrushed pages of modeling to motherhood—and the recreational drugs that flowed in abundance and were her ultimate demise.
No, Abby shouldn’t have to deal with the same pain Jude spent nearly a decade muddling through. Since she didn’t have any memories of Miranda, Jude had mercifully put off the questions over the years, being just vague enough for Abby to draw her own conclusions. It was close enough.
And much better than the truth.
* * *
Hannah felt funny peering in the door to the teachers’ lounge, as if she were once again a student wondering what on earth the adults did in there all day. She wasn’t a kid anymore, but she wasn’t an official staff member, either, so the unease lingered.
She poked her head around the frame of the mostly deserted room and looked for Sophia, who said to meet her during her break before the last period. Hopefully Jude wouldn’t be inside. She couldn’t bear to face him yet after the awkward conversation from Monday. Hannah’s eyes darted anxiously to each table. Did assistant principals even use the lounge? Sophia waved from a corner table, and Hannah exhaled in relief as she made her way over.
“Decaf coffee? Stale donut?” Sophia pointed with a laugh to the unappealing array of leftovers, sitting on the counter by the sink cluttered with mugs.
Hannah made her way toward her, ducking her head to hide her scarred cheek as she passed a table of teachers hunched over what seemed to be lesson plans. “As, uh, tempting as that is, no thanks.” She smiled and adjusted the strap on her camera bag. “How has the rest of the week gone?”
“They’re slowly getting into it.” Sophia brushed some crumbs off the table, then crumpled her napkin and tossed it into the trash can. “They stopped asking ridiculous questions, at least.”
Hannah grinned. “That’s a start.” She tapped her bag. “I brought a lot of sample photos on lighting like you asked—even some pretty bad ones I saved from my practice days to show them the difference.”
“See, this is why I need you! You’re so much better than a textbook.” Sophia grabbed her purse and motioned for Hannah to follow her out the door. “Let’s go set up. The bell will ring in about ten minutes.”
They quickly laid out Hannah’s various photos and handouts, finishing as the bell rang. Students laughed and pushed their way inside the classroom, excited to get the last class of their Friday over with now that weekend freedom danced just out of reach.
“Come on, guys, settle down.” Sophia clapped her hands and managed to wrangle their attention. “Ms. Hart’s going to talk about lighting today.” She took the chair behind her desk and motioned for Hannah to start.
Abby’s eyes lit with anticipation from her seat in the front row, and Hannah smiled at her as she began her presentation. “Everyone knows lighting in photography is important. But sometimes too much light can actually be a bad thing.” Hannah held up a sample shot, where the flash had washed out the entire picture.
Abby sat on the edge of her seat, eyes following Hannah’s every move and drinking in each photograph as she went on. Too bad the rest of the kids weren’t as interested, though as Sophia had said, there was a definite change from Monday. At least they gave each photo Hannah passed around the room a cursory glance.
“Last week, Abby asked a question about lighting when taking a picture with a phone camera.” Hannah collected the last of the pictures that had been passed around and slid them back in their protective folder, then pulled the handouts she’d prepared from an envelope. “I’ve made you all a list of tips to practice when you go home. Next week let me know if you think you took better pictures based on this advice.” The kids accepted the handout, several of them looking longingly at their backpacks or purses where their phones nestled, turned off via school rules.
Sophia stood and pulled her own phone from her purse. “How about we take a few shots now with my phone and we can put Ms. Hart’s guidelines into practice.” The kids cheered, all vying to be first.
A knock sounded on the closed door a moment before it opened. Hannah looked up as Jude stepped inside, and her earlier hesitations flooded her body in full force. She took a deep breath and tried to keep a natural smile on her face. Maybe if she ignored the awkward conversation from Monday, he would, too.
Although it’d be a lot easier to ignore him if he didn’t look so good in that gray pinstriped suit.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he called above the din of the students chattering excitedly as Sophia divided them into groups of four. “I was hoping to speak with Ms. Hart before my three o’clock meeting.”
Hannah’s heart stammered in her chest. Her? Why? Sophia shot her a puzzled look, appearing equally confused, but gestured for her to go ahead. “I’ll handle this. We’ll show you what we’ve accomplished when you get back.”
Hannah reluctantly met Jude in the deserted hallway, keeping her eyes down and feeling way too much like a student in trouble. The door clicked shut softly behind her and she crossed her arms, waiting for him to speak first. With her luck, she’d unknowingly offend him again. She didn’t want to get on the school administration’s bad side, especially when she wasn’t even a certified teacher. When the students had started actually growing interested in what she’d taught today, something shifted inside her. She didn’t just want to teach them—she needed to. Needed to feel productive, needed to feel like she was making a difference.
Needed to be needed.
“You look like Terrence McAllister did when I busted him last week for sneaking off campus.” Jude shook his head with a smile that slowly relaxed Hannah’s stiff position. “Am I that intimidating?”
She couldn’t help but offer a small smile in return. “Maybe it’s the suit.”
He laughed, the husky sound melting the last of her nerves. “I’ll be sure to have a word with my tailor.” His grin faded at the corners, and his deep blue eyes took on a serious sheen. “I’m sorry I made you uneasy the other day. I let a personal matter affect my reaction to your generous offer, and I apologize.”
Such formal wording—was that how he always spoke, or was that something he hid behind? Would be interesting to find out, to get to know him well enough to discover his quirks.
She certainly had enough of her own.
But then again, did she really want to get to know someone like Jude better, someone she could apparently offend so easily and never understand why? He’d apologized, so maybe it hadn’t been her fault after all. Maybe he just didn’t like receiving something—even something like photography services—free. A lot of men would take that as a slam on their pride. Still…
Hannah waited for more details, but he didn’t offer them, leaving her with only more questions. She rescued them both from the silence that was inching toward awkward. “I guess we’ve all been there at one point or another. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“No, it was my fault alone.” Jude shifted positions, casually resting his weight against the tiled wall. The motion sent an enticing wave of spicy cologne Hannah’s way, weakening her knees. Pathetic. Had it been that long since she’d been in close proximity to a man?
Actually, yes. Sad, but true. Hannah bit her lower lip. She shouldn’t go there. It would accomplish nothing. Jude was trying to right a wrong, nothing more. No way did he feel the attraction that threatened to level Hannah’s legs out from under her.
Not when she looked the way she did.
“I’ve been concerned about a school issue, and the stress from— Well, I overreacted. No excuses.” Jude hesitated and Hannah looked up, searching his gaze, eager to see his secrets but not sure why it mattered so much.
She looked away as a rush of warmth heated her stomach. Though she wasn’t on the payroll, Jude was still an authority figure, and she had no business teasing herself with what would surely be a dead end. If only… But no, she couldn’t go back down that road. She’d traveled it enough in the months after her car accident.
“Thanks for saying so.” She drew a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze briefly before pretending great interest in the bulletin board on the wall. Then she realized she’d provided him with a full view of her scarred cheek, and she quickly turned the opposite way.
Jude’s gaze followed her motion, and a flush rode an unwelcome passage up Hannah’s neck. Definitely a one-sided attraction. He had no reason to be drawn to her, and a jagged, three-inch reason not to.
Hannah straightened her shoulders, determined not to let him see her vulnerabilities. It would get them nowhere. “If that’s all, I better get back to the class.” A roar of laughter burst from inside the classroom, and Hannah took that as her cue. She reached for the knob, and Jude held out one hand as if to stop her before letting it drop back to his side. The traitorous blush claimed new real estate on her neck and chest and she forced herself not to look away, to hold her ground. She had nothing to be embarrassed about.
Unless he could read her mind.
Head tilted, Jude’s eyes searched hers before resignation released her from their navy blue hold. “All right. Then I guess I’ll see you around.”
Hannah nodded once before slipping back inside the classroom.
Not if she could help it.
Chapter Three
A gust of October wind sent myriad crimson and gold leaves skittering past Hannah’s feet. She adjusted the settings on her Nikon and squinted through the viewfinder. Perfect. As soon as her eleven o’clock appointment arrived at the park, she’d set the siblings up on the low branches of this oak and be able to catch the last of the morning light.
A car door slammed from the lot behind her, and Hannah turned in time to see what had to be the McDuffy family rushing toward her. The teenage girl, Sarah, if she remembered correctly, held her hands up to protect her spiral-curled hair from the wind, while the younger boy—Adam?—hurried toward her, carefree. Hannah waved and smiled, never tired of seeing what a few years in age and gender could mean for priorities.
A second girl hurried behind the first, and once they cleared the shadow of the pavilion, Hannah blinked. Abby. But not the braided, plaid Abby. This one had on subtle makeup and was dressed more like her friend in trendy jeans and a sparkly layered top.
“Hey, guys.” Hannah smiled. “Abby, I didn’t expect to see you here!”
“You know Ms. Hart?” Mrs. McDuffy asked in surprise.
Abby nodded, avoiding her gaze. Hannah frowned. That wasn’t like her. She was so personable in class.
“The girls had a sleepover last night and thought it’d be fun if Abby tagged along.” Mrs. McDuffy tried in vain to smooth her son’s cowlick. “Oh, well. I guess photography is meant to record accuracy anyway.”
“Don’t worry. I can do wonders with editing.” Hannah winked. “Come on, guys, I thought we’d take a few shots in this tree over here.”
“Cool!” Adam bolted forward, scrambling for the lowest branch.
Sarah wrinkled her nose and stared at the tree like it might spring to life and devour her. “Will I get dirty?”
“I have tissues in my bag.” Hannah urged her forward. Mrs. McDuffy strolled a few paces back to lean against the fence separating the park from the road. But Abby stood awkwardly next to Hannah, head still turned down, feigning great interest in her shoes. Hannah took a quick shot of Sarah and Adam in the tree. “Adam, scoot closer toward the trunk.” She waited while he shifted, lowering her voice. “You okay, Abby?”
“Uh-huh.” The breeze nearly carried away the soft reply, and Hannah wondered if she should press the issue or take the girl’s cue and leave it alone. She never liked being pushed to talk about things when she was younger. Best to ignore it for now—maybe distraction would open her up.
“Adam, that’s perfect.” Hannah took a few more shots then tilted her head. “Sarah, can you stand on the lowest branch? Adam, sit on the one above her.” The kids scrambled to follow orders, Sarah pausing twice to wipe her hands.
Hannah dropped to her stomach, laying flat on the ground, to catch a unique angle.
Abby gaped at her. “You don’t mind getting dirty?”
“Nope. That’s why I wear old clothes to photo shoots.” Hannah rolled sideways and braced her arm on her knee to get a sideways shot of the kids grinning through the leaves. “Thanks, guys! Let’s take a few by the slides.” She slowed her pace to match Abby’s as the siblings and Mrs. McDuffy headed toward the playground equipment. The wind lifted Abby’s blond hair, flowing freely across her shoulders, and turned the strands to honey. “Speaking of clothes, you look cute today. Trying out a new look?”
Abby looked over her shoulder, and then lowered her voice even though no one was around. “It’s only for fun. I don’t get to wear it often.”
Hannah hiked her bag higher on her shoulder. “Why not? You look great.”
“My dad likes my other look better.” She rolled her eyes. “You know, the baby look with ponytails and dresses.”
“I see.” But she didn’t, really. Hannah could understand a father being overprotective with his daughter—after all, her daddy was the same way even though she was almost thirty and lived three states away—but it wasn’t as if Abby was doing anything inappropriate. However, these early teen years were rough, and on a single parent, probably rougher than she realized. “For what it’s worth, you’re a pretty girl either way.”
A pleased blush tinted Abby’s cheeks and she smiled shyly. “Thanks, Ms. Hart.” As if a burden were suddenly lifted, she waved her arm at Sarah several paces ahead. “Hey, wait up!”
Hannah watched Abby jog across the park, glad the girl’s smile was firmly back in place. She couldn’t help but wonder about Abby’s mom. Had she died? Had she and Jude divorced? He carried a burden in his eyes that resembled grief, so maybe an accident had stolen the former Mrs. Bradley. It seemed so unfair that such a sweet girl like Abby, in need of female guidance, would be robbed of her mother. Hannah’s hand went to the scar on her face, her fingers tracing the slightly curved pattern she could draw in her sleep. But life wasn’t fair—she was walking proof of that.
Enough bitterness. Hannah joined the group on the slides and placed the kids in different positions on the equipment. “Adam, tone back the smile a bit, okay?” The boy’s toothy grin held more cheese than a warehouse in Wisconsin. She nodded as he narrowed his smile to something more natural. “Sarah, your necklace is crooked. Now, everyone say ‘school’s out’!”
The kids laughed on cue and Hannah took the shot.
After several more pictures, Mrs. McDuffy suggested that Abby get on the top of the jungle gym beside Sarah. “I think a few friend photos are in order.”
Hannah hesitated. Jude had made it clear he didn’t want any free photography, but if this was Mrs. McDuffy’s idea—and money—then why would he resist? Technically, it wouldn’t be free at all.
Decision made, Hannah nodded. “Sure thing.” She crouched at the end of the slide, attempting to capture on camera the friendship that shone so sincerely in real life between the girls. Linking arms, they slid down the slide. Click. She caught them posing on the wooden bridge connecting two jungle gyms. Click. And again on the swings, legs pumping furiously as if they were children instead of almost teenagers.
Hannah paused to study the photos on her camera’s LCD screen, admiring the innocence and beauty in both of their faces. A particular photo caught Hannah’s eyes, and she looked up at Abby, then glanced back at her camera, grinning as an idea took root. Just because Hannah needed to keep her distance from the handsome assistant principal didn’t mean she couldn’t take an opportunity to help mend a fence between father and daughter.
And she knew just how to do it.
* * *
Jude frowned at the budget on his desk, wishing the numbers would rearrange themselves into something presentable. This wasn’t looking good—in fact, it was getting downright grim. He shoved the papers away with a sigh, wishing it was as easy to push aside the stress headache now permanently taking up residence in his neck. Head Principal Coleman had sent another email to the upper staff today, clarifying that the electives at school were in danger because of the budget and there would be big decisions to make in the near future. Exactly what that meant, Jude had yet to discover.
Part of him didn’t even want to know.
Jude sighed. Between Abby’s teenage pride and this issue with the budget, he rarely had a moment’s peace. He rolled a pencil between his fingers, staring at the yellow blur flipping over his knuckles. It didn’t help that thoughts of Hannah consumed him more than they should have over the weekend. With Abby spending the night at a friend’s house, he had ample time to wonder what he said wrong in his apology Friday afternoon. Though Hannah’s words assured him all was well, her expression and manner had certainly not as she excused herself to go back to the class. Was she still offended? Or simply cautious?
It shouldn’t matter. Even if his attraction to her was obvious—though hopefully not obvious to her—he had to tamp it down. He had no business with a photographer, no interest in being with someone who constantly reminded him of everything he was attempting to keep his daughter from.
He groaned. It figured. An attractive woman finally snagged his interest, without the help of Abby’s inevitable matchmaking attempts, but he couldn’t—make that wouldn’t—pursue it. It wouldn’t be fair, not until he figured a few things out about himself, first—assuming he ever did.
Jude’s secretary, Mrs. Oakes, tapped on his open door, her frizzy dark hair even more out of place today than usual. He winced, knowing her stress was partly a consequence of his own. He made a mental note to take full advantage of the upcoming secretary appreciation day.
“Sir, Ms. Hart is here to see you.”
Hannah? All thoughts of secretary appreciation fled his mind. Despite logic warning him otherwise, Jude’s heart hammered a telltale thump and he dropped the pencil still in his hand. “Great. Send her in.” Maybe he could practice being a professional in front of her now, rather than nearly moony as he’d been during their hallway talk—though not as easily done as said. It wasn’t just her appearance that knocked Jude off center. After all, he’d been around attractive women before—had married one, for that matter—but rather something deeper. Something about Hannah seemed to look right through him and see things he didn’t show very often.
Make that ever.
How did she get under his skin like that? Maybe he was more desperate for female company than he’d realized. Maybe it was time to date again, if only to keep these crazy thoughts at bay when around Hannah.
Because he sure couldn’t date her.
Hannah appeared in the door frame seconds later, her shoulder-length brown hair swept up on one side with a clip, revealing the long line of her neck above the scoop of her sweater. He cleared his throat, hoping she hadn’t caught him staring. Even with the scar slightly hidden under the curtain of hair on her left side, she was beautiful.
“Hi.” She hesitated in the doorway, clutching a manila envelope and looking as timid as his students did when they came to his office. “Is this a good time?”
“Of course.” He motioned to the hard plastic seat in front of his desk where many a student had pouted, cried, yelled, or all of the above, and waited until Hannah sat before doing the same. “Sorry that chair is so uncomfortable. Usually the people sitting in it are in trouble.”
“Then it’s the perfect way to start their punishment.” Hannah shifted in the seat and Jude couldn’t help but laugh.
“How can I help you today, Hannah?” He liked saying her name. Too much. Rein it in. No point in sending mixed messages, messages he couldn’t act on.
Even though too much of him already wanted to.
She opened the envelope she held with manicured fingers, and Jude’s relaxed smile faded to a slight frown. Miranda had been adamant about her weekly manicures and pedicures during their short marriage, a fact that had put their barely existent young family budget on a strain. But she argued that if she was going to have a baby and ruin her body, she should get to have pretty nails. He’d agreed with her at the time. But after she lost her baby weight and ended up a size smaller than she’d started out being, he knew he was in trouble—and that trouble had nothing to do with spending two hundred dollars a month on nail care.
Now he wished women would just go back to nail-biting.
Hannah pulled an eight-by-ten-size sheet from the envelope, and from the quick glimpse he got before she hid it from his view, he gathered it was a picture. “I know you said you weren’t interested in having a session done, but since Abby tagged along to her friend’s session this past weekend, they suggested the idea of friend photos. I thought you’d like to have this one.” She slowly turned the picture so he could see.
His breath caught at the sight of his daughter, a close-up of her beaming from the top of a slide, head tilted back and hair naturally highlighted in the sun. Jude reached across the desk and took the photo Hannah offered, his stomach a hard knot. Abby looked beautiful—of course. Like she had a choice with her mom’s portion of genes in her. He licked his lips, wishing the rock now lodged in his throat would settle back down in his stomach.
Nodding once, he cleared his throat. “Thank you. This is thoughtful.” Surely Hannah didn’t intend the knifelike wound twisting his insides. Despite that, he did like the picture. Because of his own memories and fears, he hadn’t taken nearly enough pictures of his daughter growing up. But if he did, and displayed them around the house, she would see how gorgeous she was and get the same idea Miranda had. He couldn’t lose his daughter the same way he lost his wife.
He refused to let her travel that path of destruction.
“I’m so glad you like it.” Hannah sat back in her chair, exhaling with a smile. She balanced the envelope on her lap. “I took a few more. But that one was my favorite.”
His eyes darted back to the print. It was a great shot. But…wait a minute. Abby’s hair was down and loose, which was unusual. And her clothes—he squinted, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. What was she wearing? That shirt was not something he’d purchased. Neither was the makeup.
His fingers tightened on the photo and he quickly dropped it on his desk before he could crinkle the fragile paper. In fact, Abby hadn’t even told him she was going with her friend to a photo shoot at all. How many other lies lingered between them?
Hannah’s eyebrows knitted together, as if reading his mind. Or maybe he was just that obvious these days. “What’s wrong?”
“This is— She knows better than to—” Jude cut off his own sentence and pinched the bridge of his nose, uncertain how much to reveal to Hannah but unable to keep the frustration from bubbling up and over. “She’s wearing makeup. And clothes I don’t allow. She lied to me.”
Hannah’s face paled. “Lied? I knew she looked different than usual, more trendy, but I never thought—”
“She knows the rules.” Abby was his kid. And his kid and trendy didn’t mix. Not that Hannah could understand that.
Hannah held up both hands in defense. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to open a can of worms here. Mrs. McDuffy suggested the group photo and—” She reached for the picture on his desk as if to take it back, but Jude placed one hand on it and held it in place.
“Leave it.”
She leaned back, confusion splayed across her face. “I was hoping to surprise you in a good way, not get Abby in trouble.”
“You didn’t know. She did.” Jude sighed, reminding himself this wasn’t Hannah’s fault. It was Abby’s. Why couldn’t she accept no for an answer and trust him as her father? Whether his instincts were right or wrong, she’d disobeyed.
And now he had proof.
“I’ll keep this. I do appreciate the gesture. It’s just…complicated.”
Hannah stood, frowning, her fingers tapping the envelope pressed against her leg. She opened her mouth, then closed it before doing the same again twice.
Jude recognized the hesitation from his students, the desire to say what was on their mind but being afraid of getting in trouble if they did. He was tired of beating around the bush. He wanted honesty. Craved it, especially after the way his own daughter evaded him. “Go ahead. You won’t offend me.”
Hopefully. Not offending Jude seemed to be getting harder to accomplish lately. Was that why Abby had been at odds with him so much the past several months? He thought he’d gotten a handle on his temper in the counseling sessions he attended after Miranda’s desertion years ago, then again after receiving news of her death. Maybe it was the stress of the budget wearing on him. That alone was enough to drive a man crazy, much less this drama with his almost-teenager.
At Hannah’s hesitation, he pressed on. “Please, say what’s on your mind.”
Her words rushed out, tumbling over each other like a waterfall off a cliff. “I know I’m not a parent, but I’m curious why you have these rules for Abby. She’s a good kid. I know you know that. But honestly, she looked cute at the park. Not inappropriate by any means.”
Jude stood, his irritation now welling despite his good intentions to tamp it down. He’d heard enough about his parenting ability from both his parents and his in-laws. He didn’t need it from a stranger, too—even one as sweet and attractive as Hannah. She didn’t know what she was talking about, didn’t know him or his family. He pressed his lips into a thin line. “You’re right. You’re not a parent. So you can’t understand this.”
Her eyes widened and she flinched as if he’d dealt a physical blow. Her jaw clenched, and she nodded once, her voice soft. “Then I’m sorry to interfere.” She glanced at the envelope in her hands, and with a flick of her wrist, tossed the entire package on top of his desk.
Guilt rocked Jude’s senses as several different-size photos of the same image slipped free of the envelope. Once again, he was taking his frustration out on the wrong person. Jude held out his hand. “Hannah, wait. I shouldn’t have—”
Without looking back, Hannah slipped out of the room.
Chapter Four
With a temper like that, the man should’ve been a pro wrestler, not an assistant principal.
Hannah fumed the entire time it took her to stalk from Jude’s office to Sophia’s classroom, which wasn’t long considering her strides were peppered with indignation. What happened? How could one picture, hinting of loose hair and a tube of lip gloss, set off a polished professional like Jude? It didn’t make sense. He’d originally seemed fine with the photograph—pleased, even.
Until the switch flipped and it was out with Dr. Jekyll, in with Mr. Hyde.
Hannah didn’t have to be a math teacher to know something didn’t add up. Jude’s vibe toward Abby went beyond mere overprotective. He had a secret.
She knew because she had her own.
She paced outside Sophia’s classroom, not ready to go inside until her blood pressure lowered. The dirt-streaked floor passed in a blur as she walked and turned, walked and turned. Jude had every right to raise his daughter the way he chose to, but this was ridiculous. The photo shoot had been done in complete innocence.
Hannah kept pacing, the bulletin board outside Sophia’s classroom a kaleidoscope of blue and yellow construction paper in her peripheral vision. Maybe she should have stayed out of it, but how could she have turned Mrs. McDuffy down over something so trivial? And why would someone refuse a photo of their kid? A gorgeous photo, at that—not a boast of Hannah’s talent, but of Abby’s natural beauty. Hannah had barely even opened the picture in Photoshop. In fact, the only thing she’d done was enhance the lighting of the background. She hadn’t touched Abby’s direct image.
How could that make a father upset instead of proud?
Even now Jude’s words echoed harshly in her mind. You’re right—you’re not a parent. He didn’t know—couldn’t know—how badly that hurt. The words themselves were an agreement, truthful. The average woman wouldn’t have even flinched.
Yet here Hannah was stuck trying to remove a hundred stinging barbs from her heart.
“Hannah, what are you doing in the hallway?” Sophia poked her head outside her class, bracing one arm on the door frame. Her dozen colored bangles clanged together on her wrist, jerking Hannah from her ponderings.
She turned to face her friend. “Trying to figure out why men do what they do.”
Sophia’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, honey, you better come on in. That one will take you until the end of the semester. Maybe longer.” She tugged Hannah inside. “What happened?”
Hannah nibbled her lower lip as they both leaned against the side of Sophia’s cluttered desk. “I think I made a mistake.” Logic began a slow descent, replacing the initial burst of frustration. “You remember last week Jude said he didn’t want me to take pictures of Abby for my portfolio?”
Sophia crossed her arms, bracelets jingling. “Yeah…” Her voice trailed off into a wary question.
“I did anyway, though it wasn’t my initial idea.” Hannah let out a long breath as she filled Sophia in on the photo shoot from Saturday and her conversation with Jude. “I honestly thought he just didn’t want to accept anything free, so I believed having it on Mrs. McDuffy’s account would skirt the issue. It wasn’t a free session I did as a favor that way, you know? But now I think he has other reasons.”
“Jude’s always been very careful with Abby,” Sophia agreed, moving to the chalkboard to erase her previous class’s bulletin points. “But this seems like overkill, even for him. Maybe he’s upset that she disobeyed his rules. He could have been projecting that anger onto you.”
Hannah coughed as a wave of chalk dust drifted toward her. “If so, it seems to be a new habit of his.”
It wouldn’t continue to be a habit. After today, she couldn’t imagine either of them finding anything agreeable to talk about. Two people who constantly offended the other had no reason to be around each other. Authority figure or not.
Students began filing into the room, and Hannah shot Sophia a look, silently agreeing to finish the conversation later.
As Abby took her seat in the front row, eyes sparkling with anticipation, a twinge of guilt flitted through Hannah’s stomach. She’d inadvertently caused trouble for the young girl. It seemed only fair to warn Abby of what she would face after school.
* * *
“Abby, do you mind staying a minute?” Hannah kept her voice low so the other students wouldn’t hear her request and assume the girl had done something wrong. Sophia had excused herself after dismissing the class, allowing Hannah space to have their pending conversation—and they’d have to hurry, since Jude was surely used to Abby meeting him directly after school.
Abby looked up from packing her backpack and offered an unsure smile. “Sure, Ms. Hart.” She zipped the bag and tucked the straps around her shoulders. “What’s up?”
Hannah sat on top of the desk across from Abby’s. “There’s something you should know.” This wouldn’t be easy. The rock that settled in Hannah’s stomach seemed proof enough of that. She swallowed, wishing she’d minded her own business from the start and not put either of them in this position.
“What is it?” Abby picked at a star sticker she’d put on the top of her otherwise bare hand. No chipped fingernail polish coated her nails, no rings sparkled on her fingers, no bracelets bunched at her wrist like almost every other girl in the class. Abby obviously knew she was different, or she wouldn’t have deliberately broken her dad’s rules to try to fit in.
Hannah could relate to being left out. Maybe she hadn’t felt that way as a teenager, but as a woman, it still wasn’t easy. The stares, the instant flickering of eyes from her own gaze to her cheek. The curiosity lingering in people’s voices, hinting at the question no one dared to ask.
No—never easy.
A wave of compassion washed over Hannah, and she leaned forward, coaxing the younger girl to meet her gaze. At least Abby’s struggles were superficial instead of permanent, as easily removed in the time it took to change clothes or untie a braided plait of hair. But as far Jude was concerned, Abby didn’t necessarily have those choices.
“You know those pictures I took at the park?”
“Yeah?” Abby cleared her throat. “I mean, yes, ma’am.”
Hannah briefly closed her eyes. Such manners on such a sweet girl—why on earth was Jude so particular about her appearance? It didn’t make sense.
Hannah forced a smile. “Some of them really turned out well, and I ended up making a few copies for you.”
Abby nodded, even as her gaze turned questioning, guarded, as if she could see what was coming.
Hannah shifted positions on the desk. Man, she hated being in the middle of this. Abby’s deception should have stayed between her and her dad, and if Hannah hadn’t had gotten involved with that silly picture, she wouldn’t be sending the girl off to the parental guillotine.
She drew a deep breath before continuing. The moment of the truth. “I gave one to your dad before class.”
All the blood drained from Abby’s face and she stumbled backward a step. “You did?” Panic highlighted her delicate features, and she bit down so hard on her lip Hannah halfway expected to see blood. “Was he—was he mad?”
“He was…surprised.” Hannah chose her words carefully, then sighed. No more lies; that’s what got Abby into this mess in the first mess. “But yes. He seemed upset—mostly because you snuck around. He seemed to think you know better than to wear makeup without permission.”
Abby closed her eyes briefly. “I know I shouldn’t have.” Then she locked her gaze with Hannah’s, eyes shiny with pending tears. “But I’m so tired of being a baby.”
* * *
Abby’s heartfelt admission tore at Jude’s heart, and he rested his forehead against the door frame of Sophia’s classroom, allowing the cool metal plating to calm his temper. He’d hurried to meet Abby after the final bell, ready to walk her straight to the car so he could dole out a much-pondered punishment for her deception over last weekend.
Until her confession pierced his conscience.
Was he pushing her so hard in the opposite direction of her mother that she’d eventually come full circle around the other side?
Jude’s stomach clenched, and he eased away from the door. Hannah shouldn’t have warned Abby about his discovery, though he guessed in Hannah’s shoes he’d have felt guilty, too. Still, did anyone trust him to do things his way for his own daughter?
Maybe his dream of having a big family needed to die. He already struggled to be a good father to the kid he had. Still, growing up as an only child hadn’t been fun. He wanted Abby to have siblings, to be a part of a big family unit she could feel safe in, rely on. Her childhood had been sketchy enough—she deserved stability. Love. Loyalty. It was already too late for a sibling to be close enough in age for her to play with, but she could easily take on the role of protector for them one day. Teach them things, show them the ropes of life.
Assuming Jude didn’t let her fall along the way.
A student hurrying down the hall, probably hoping to catch their bus, scurried past Jude, reminding him he shouldn’t be standing in the hallway imagining things that probably would never happen. He took a step toward the door, then hesitated, Abby’s distressed voice ringing in his ears. She’d been wrong to lie, but he wouldn’t embarrass her further by openly admitting he’d overheard her private conversation with Hannah. He’d back up a few steps and clomp in that direction so they’d have warning.
But Hannah’s soft response stopped him so fast, his loafer squeaked against the linoleum.
“Looking a little different doesn’t make you a baby.” Her gentle voice carried through the quietness of the now deserted hallway. “Besides, no matter what you wear or what you paint on your face, you’re a beautiful girl.”
A warning bell dinged in the back of Jude’s mind. Abby didn’t need frequent reminders of her appearance. Jude knew—from common sense, and from the dozens of parenting books thrust his way in the aftermath of his wife’s desertion—the importance of showing his daughter her worth. But he wouldn’t do that through overly praising her outward appearance and putting ideas in her head of how to abuse that beauty. She had to already know how stunning she was, anyway. Any daughter of Miranda’s had no choice to be otherwise. She didn’t need confirmation.
“I am?” Abby’s voice sounded so tiny Jude almost missed it. A fist landed in his stomach and he sucked in a hard breath. She honestly didn’t know? Impossible. But Abby wasn’t the type to beg for compliments. Beg for attention, maybe, or beg to get her own way—never for praise. He’d made sure of that growing up.
Sudden uncertainty gnawed a hole in Jude’s heart. Had he made sure of too much?
“Of course you are!” Hannah sounded as surprised as Jude felt. “Makeup wouldn’t change that one bit. What’s important is what’s on the inside.” She paused. “And disobeying your father is pretty ugly.”
“I guess I never thought of it that way.”
Jude risked a peek around the door frame, just enough to catch Abby absently scuffing the toe of her shoe against the floor. She wasn’t making eye contact with Hannah, but she was listening.
That was a whole lot further than he’d ever gotten with her.
Why did Abby push him away, yet take the same exact advice from a near stranger? The woman factor must play a bigger part than he realized. Jude ducked back around the corner and ran one hand over his hair, the gelled strands sliding through his fingers. Abby needed an older friend, some sort of constant female presence in her life. Someone to do the girl-talk thing, someone to give a viewpoint on life and morals that wasn’t his own repeating, broken record.
She needed a mom.
The thought broke a cold sweat on the back of Jude’s neck.
He didn’t want to be alone his entire life, and he truly wanted Abby to have sisters and brothers one day.
But out of all the women he’d casually dated over the past few years, there hadn’t been a single one who’d ever come close to prompting thoughts of marriage. Or, for that matter, there’d never been one whom Abby looked at as she’d looked at Hannah—with respect. Sincerity. Admiration.
The exact same things Jude saw in Hannah, despite his lingering aggravation at her interference.
Jude rubbed a hand down his jaw. Apparently the budget stress was affecting him worse than he’d thought. Marriage and Hannah in the same sentence? He’d barely met the woman, and already they’d offended each other twice. He’d seen the look on her face when she stormed out of his office—in the week they’d known each other, he’d given her more reasons to laugh at him than accept an offer of a date. No, that was out of the question.
Jude licked his suddenly dry lips, a rare sense of panic seeping into his soul as Hannah’s soft spoken clarifications of real beauty continued. She definitely had a handle on the concept of beauty that Miranda never had. But he needed to break up the little union forming inside before things got heavier, before Abby got even more attached.
Or before he did the same.
Chapter Five
Heavy footsteps preceded Jude into the classroom. Hannah hopped off the desk as if she were a student getting busted. She knew it’d be a matter of time until he showed up, but she still couldn’t help the twinge of sympathy as Abby’s face fell. The younger girl turned slowly to face her fate, head up, gaze down.
But Jude wasn’t looking at Abby.
“How was class?” He smiled at Hannah, casually—too casually.
She narrowed her eyes. Had he been listening outside the door? She crossed her arms over her chest, immediately defensive although he had every right to hear conversations about his daughter—in his school. Would he be mad she’d warned Abby about the photo? Or had he expected it?
“Class was great.” She had to be honest, even though saying something positive at the moment felt a little like losing whatever this weird battle was she’d found herself fighting.
Jude shoved his hands in his pants pockets and nodded slowly. “Always good to…hear.” A slight smirk lit his eyes as Hannah’s gaze jerked to meet his. Her neck flushed with heat. He’d listened, all right.
Enough of the games. “I better get going. I have a photo shoot to prepare for tomorrow.” Hannah shouldered her bag and offered Abby, who’d been silent during the entire exchange, an encouraging smile. “See you later this week.”
“Who’s your client?” Jude shifted his weight, resting against the side of Abby’s desk as if he had no cares in the world, no punishments to dole out, no points to prove.
No apologies to make.
Though on second thought, Hannah owed him one for her involvement in the first place. Best to call it even and move on.
But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his arresting blue gaze.
“It’s an engagement shoot.” She had to look away during the word engagement. Even now, the thought of photographing the happy, smiling couple tomorrow tied her stomach in knots. Engagement shoots were always tough. Young people blissfully naive of the future, unaware of the way life could change in a single second, in the time it took for a drunk driver to run a red light. They believed everything would always be the way they’d planned—and why shouldn’t they? They had no reason to think otherwise.
No daily scars to remind them how deeply dreams were crushed.
“Are you free afterward?”
Jude’s voice ripped Hannah away from the past, leaving her gaping in the present. She opened her mouth, but words escaped her. Why in the world did Jude care what she did tomorrow? It wasn’t like he wanted to schedule his own photo shoot. And he wasn’t asking her out…surely not.
Surprise flickered across Jude’s expression, as if he startled even himself by the sudden question. But he squared his shoulders and repeated the shocking words. “Are you free afterward? I’d like to buy you a cup of coffee.”
Hannah’s breath hitched. Coffee? With Jude? Alone? She could think of about a dozen reasons to say no.
And maybe only one reason to say yes.
Abby looked between Hannah and her dad, confusion pinching her eyebrows. “What about me?”
“You’re going to be grounded.” Jude frowned, as if finally remembering why he even came to hunt Abby down in the first place. “So you’ll be doing homework while we’re out.” He lifted his gaze back to Hannah. “That is, if Ms. Hart agrees to go.”
“I—I…” Hannah’s voice trailed off, and she clutched at the necklace around her throat, desperate to hide the blush she couldn’t control that she knew by now had to be lighting her scar like a beacon. She tilted her head so her hair covered her left cheek, and nibbled on her lower lip. “I can’t.”
Abby released the breath she’d obviously been holding, and her shoulders slumped. Hannah knew the feeling. It almost hurt to say no. But what good could come from a coffee—dare she say date?—with Jude? For a moment, she’d wanted to entertain the idea that his quick temper and snappiness somehow stemmed from a connection with her, from a place he fought deep inside just as she did. That maybe he really did want to take her out, get to know her, see the real her beneath the pretension—and the scars.
But that was asking a lot of a man she’d known for a week, who at the moment had more reasons to fire her than take her on a date.
Jude must have seen Abby’s disappointment, too. “Abby, please go wait in the car.”
“But, Dad—”
“You’re not really in a position to argue here, honey.” Jude’s voice, gentle but firm, allowed no argument.
With a humble nod, Abby took the keys Jude handed her and scurried out of the room.
“You trust her with your keys?” Hannah couldn’t help her tone, couldn’t hold back the rest of the sentence that flitted between them, unspoken yet incredibly clear. But not with designer jeans and a little bit of makeup?
The hum of the fluorescent light above filled the silence, until Jude stepped a few feet closer, leaning against the student’s desk beside hers. “Abby’s a good kid.”
Hannah bit back the I know that threatened to pour out, and restrained herself to a nod as she crossed her arms, determined to listen without judgment.
Or at least without as much judgment. Handsome or not, the man remained a puzzle—especially when it came to all things Abby. How could someone who cared so much be so hard-nosed?
“I know there are rumors.” A muscle clenched in Jude’s jaw, and he looked down briefly, flicking a piece of lint off the leg of his slacks. “I don’t know if you believe them.”
The statement turned into a question. Hannah shrugged, her heart climbing in her throat. “I don’t see why it matters what I think.” Flashes of their previous conversation in his office danced before her, and she straightened her shoulders, her resolve about saying no strengthened. “You actually made it quite clear that it doesn’t.”
“And I owe you an apology—hence the coffee.” Jude offered a slight smile, one that set Hannah’s insides trembling more than she wanted to admit. “Besides, I overheard a little bit of what you told Abby. She really responds to you.” Jude looked over his shoulder, as if he could somehow see Abby through the layers of brick and steel. “I’d hoped maybe you’d give me some pointers.”
Jude’s lips thinned, as if the very act of saying the words out loud pained him, but it had to be hard to ask for help—a single dad, attempting to prove to the world he could handle a preteen by himself. It couldn’t be easy, and no matter how many times he lost his temper with her, Hannah admired him. Abby was obviously his responsibility—he hadn’t pawned her off as she’d see dads do before. He cared—maybe too much about the wrong things, but again, that was her opinion. What mattered the most was Abby. If he wanted help with her, how could she say no? While Hannah couldn’t fathom seeing Jude for any personal reasons, she could easily think of a sweet, blonde, blue-eyed reason to do just that.
“Okay.” She smiled back, hoping her smile didn’t shake as much as her hands did. “Coffee it is. I’ll be free around seven.”
They made plans to meet at a local shop not far from the school, and Jude rushed off to meet Abby at the car. Hannah packed up her camera bag, unsure what to do with the variety of emotions skittering inside. It wasn’t a date—for either of them. More like it was a desperate dad needing advice on how to girl-talk with his kid. Hopefully Hannah could help smooth things over for the mismatched father/daughter duo.
Without letting her heart get involved.
* * *
It was hard to concentrate on Monday night football when Jude spent more time replaying and analyzing his pathetic conversation with Hannah than the sports broadcasters did with the plays. Jude aimed the remote at the TV and clicked mute, successfully eliminating the monotone voices of the announcers but doing little to ease the thoughts that ricocheted through his head.
Something happened between the time he strolled inside the classroom, forcing a casual air as if he hadn’t been listening at the door, determined to break up the duo forming inside—and the time he opened his mouth and heard the request for a coffee date fly from his lips. Something had happened, all right. Something like the aroma of Hannah’s vanilla perfume teasing all logic from his senses. Something like the respect Abby was showing him for the first time in weeks.
Something like the idea of the three of them together.
He picked up his nearly empty cola and stared absently at the can. Crazy. He barely even knew Hannah, and here he was nudging into her life, picturing visions he had no right to imagine. But he did owe her an apology—his temper lately seemed more worthy of a pro wrestler than it did an assistant principal. He wasn’t leaving a very good impression of his school, and regardless of the stress he was under, regardless of the way she’d interfered with his daughter, Hannah didn’t deserve him behaving like he were in the ring.
God, when did I get like this? The prayer slipped through the cracks of the wall Jude erected some time ago, and he ran a hand over his rough jaw, in need of a shave. Miranda used to accuse him of being quick-tempered, but not like this. Never like this. He could see himself morphing into this person he didn’t want to be. Even now, remembering Abby’s lies and deceit sent his blood boiling a few degrees more than it should.
No wonder Miranda had chosen drugs and the high life over him.
Jude set his drink down and watched the commercial playing on the big screen with bleary eyes, wishing the headache roaring in the back of his head would stop—and take all the back and forth, wishy-washy contradictions over Hannah with it. No, he couldn’t bring Hannah any further into his messed-up world. Coffee would be an apology. Nothing more. Jude didn’t need to date an employee, even if she was a temp and not technically employed by the school. Nothing good could come from that. She’d be hanging around for a few weeks helping Sophia, and after all his blunders, he didn’t need to make that time more awkward than it already would be. Then she’d be gone, and his problem would be over.
Besides, Hannah could never truly own the title of Ms. Right, even if Jude grew even more selfish than he already was and actually wanted her to claim it. She was a photographer—everything in her thrived on making things beautiful through that thick camera lens.
He refused to fight that kind of ugly again. He saw where it led, what it destroyed. Better to steer clear than to get sucked in, especially where Abby was concerned.
Jude clicked the remote control and abrupt sound from the next commercial flooded his living room. He inched the volume down, mindful of Abby trying to sleep across the hall, and closed his eyes, wishing he remembered how to pray. Wishing he could erase the last decade’s worth of mistakes and choices.
* * *
“I have to admit, I’ve never heard of an engagement shoot taking place inside a skating rink.” Sophia set Hannah’s bag of props on the bench against the carpeted wall the next afternoon and sank down beside it.
Hannah held one finger to her lips, before waving to the young couple on the wooden rink a few yards away. “Lucy’s on the local Derby team. And Mark is— Well, Mark’s…”
“In love?” Sophia supplied, as Mark wobbled helplessly on his skates. He would have fallen, if Lucy hadn’t grabbed his arms. The couple laughed, the happy sound bubbling over the low brick wall separating them from Hannah.
“Apparently.” Hannah shook her head, wondering what it would be like to be so committed to someone, you’d willingly embrace all their quirks—when it was obvious your interests vastly differed.
Mark attempted a slow circle on the floor with Lucy’s help, their elbows linked and heads bent close together. Hannah nibbled on her lower lip. What did God have in store for this couple? Would they still be smiling a year after their wedding? Would they immediately have children?
Must be nice to have the option.
She shook off the familiar pattern of bitterness before it could grow too dark, and turned her attention back to her friend. “Anyway, thanks for coming to help. It shouldn’t be too crazy though, since Lucy was able to reserve the rink for us to do this privately.” The skating rink might be a little unconventional, but most of the time, unconventional made for the best pictures. This would be fun—if she kept her focus on the job at hand and quit coveting a younger couple’s life.
Sophia pulled off her boots and slid her feet into a pair of skates that looked as if they hadn’t seen the light of day in a decade. “It’s no problem. I sort of owe you after all you’ve done for my class. Our first photography session with CREATE is tomorrow, don’t forget.” She bent and began tying the laces. “Man, I haven’t skated in forever.”
“Obviously.” Hannah gestured to her scuffed skates. “I’m surprised those still fit.”
“They were new—in college.” Sophia smirked as she yanked the laces into a knot. “What, you’re not going to take pictures while rolling around with us?”
“I sort of value my camera equipment too much to risk that.” Not to mention Hannah had zero balance on skates as a child, and she figured that fact hadn’t changed with lack of practice over the past fifteen years.
Sophia stood smoothly on her skates, just as Lucy let go of Mark on the rink. He immediately fell hard on one knee. Sophia winced. “Ouch. I hope you can edit out bruises.”
“Trust me, my editing program at home does wonders.” Hannah slipped the proper lens onto her camera. “I can fix frizzy hair, sweat—whatever the client wants.”
“Sort of like how the magazine people do for their models, I guess.” Sophia blew a strand of her hair out of her eye as she began inching toward the wooden floor. “Speaking of models, guess what I heard through the teachers’ lounge gossip mill?”
Hannah pulled a bouquet of fresh wildflowers from her prop bag and followed Sophia onto the floor toward the couple. “It’s really none of my business.” She hated gossip, especially after seeing people talking about her, gesturing to their own faces and whispering, wondering what had happened behind raised hands instead of asking her outright. No, gossip was not her thing.
“Are you sure?” Sophia’s voice was singsongy, as if her old skates were somehow bringing back her more immature college days. “It’s about Jude.”
Hannah paused, wishing that fact didn’t change her opinion about gossip in general. Then she shook it off. “You guys ready?” She motioned for Lucy and Mark to come to their side of the rink, then drew a deep breath, lowering her voice. “Sophia, it’s still none of my business.”
Unfortunately. She had to admit, though, she was a little curious how in the world Sophia went from saying “speaking of models” to this revelation. Surely Jude didn’t model on the side.
Though with his charm and those business suits…well, she’d certainly buy the catalog.
Sophia watched as Lucy turned back to help Mark wobble their way. “How is it not your business? You’re going out with him for coffee tonight.”
“Only to talk about Abby. It’s not a date.” But earlier she’d debated for a solid hour on what to wear, as if it were. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be a date, but it could turn that direction. Maybe Jude was using his daughter as a cover-up for wanting to get to know Hannah better. It could happen. Anything could happen.
“It’s not really gossip, anyway, more like a new piece of that handsome puzzle.” Sophia took the flowers from Hannah and gave them a sniff. “Turns out, his ex-wife used to be a model.”
Any lingering hopes of Jude noticing Hannah over a white chocolate mocha crashed and burned in the bubbling pool that was now her stomach. As if on their own accord, Hannah’s fingers reached up and touched her scar, her spirits plummeting. Anything could happen? Right. And maybe Mark would be ready to compete in a professional Derby bout tomorrow.
“A model, huh? Like, for Sears?” Hannah’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat.
Sophia fixed her with a look. “I think a little more exotic than that.”
No wonder Abby was so gorgeous. Hannah’s former thoughts rose up in a chorus of too-familiar tormenters, and laughed in her face. How could she have ever even briefly entertained the idea that a man like Jude, used to physical perfection, could be interested in someone like her?
That’s not fair, Hannah. You barely even know him. Her conscience blared a warning that she was crossing an emotional threshold she had no business crossing. But her runaway thoughts wouldn’t obey and corral. She might not know Jude well, but she knew his temper—she’d had a front-row seat to that show, twice now. And she knew he must pride himself on image, always looking so professional and keeping such a close eye on Abby’s wardrobe.
Hannah’s hands tightened around her camera. And she knew how much he loved his daughter.
It’s just a scar. You’re not a mutant. People have seen worse. Hannah ran through the mental checklist of notes she tried to tell herself in the mirror every day after the accident, but failed now as she did then. Maybe it was just a scar—but when compared to a model, she might as well be significantly deformed.
But why was she comparing anyway? Before Jude’s coffee request, he’d given her no reason to ever think he was more than her unofficial boss. She needed to tone down the wishes welling up in her chest. Reality was reality. Her fiancé hadn’t wanted her after the accident. Why would someone like Jude? Especially after he knew the rest of her story.
“Are you okay?” Sophia tapped Hannah’s arm, yanking her away from the dark place that threatened to consume her. “Lucy said they were ready. Twice.”
Hannah inhaled sharply. “Of course. Let’s go.” She forced a smile for her clients’ sakes, and called instructions to Sophia. “Bring those flowers to this wall over here, will you?” She arranged Lucy and Mark in a smiling embrace at the end of the rink, forcing herself to work through the cloudy haze still fogging her mind.
“I don’t have to actually skate, do I?” Mark’s tone was light but his eyes wary. He held Lucy so tightly, Hannah wondered if she’d have to edit white knuckles from the photos.
“No, sweetie. You stand there and look nice.” Lucy reached up and playfully patted his cheek, humor lighting her eyes along with more than a little pity.
Pity. A second fist pummeled Hannah’s midsection and she nearly lost her grip on her camera. What if Jude felt sorry for her, and that’s why he wanted to talk about Abby over coffee? Make it at least feel a little like a date, because he figured that was as good as it would get for her? The only thing she hated more than feeling second-class was being pitied. She’d had enough of that in the weeks after her accident to last a lifetime. Being babied brought out the immature nature in her, made her deserve it. She refused to go back to that period in time.
“I don’t want to look stupid in the pictures.” Worry seeped through the nonchalant charade Mark had worn the past hour, wrinkling his bushy eyebrows.
Hannah leveled a smile at him before taking a quick practice shot to check the lighting. Click. “Don’t worry, guys. I’ll make you both look like Derby pros.” She offered a wink, hoping to lighten her own mood as well as Mark’s. Click. Her voice muffled as she took another shot. “Trust me—I’m great at masking the truth.”
Chapter Six
Hannah breezed inside the local coffee shop, silky dark hair blowing across her lightly pinked cheeks. Jude rose from his chair in the back corner and lifted one hand to catch her attention, his heart picking up its pace a little at her appearance.
She reached up to corral her hair as the door shut behind her, sealing out the wind. He waved again and Hannah finally saw him and smiled, but the expression didn’t seem to quite match her eyes. She motioned toward the counter and held up one finger, as if indicating she’d be over as soon as she ordered.
Jude had intended to buy the coffee for her, but she refused to look back in his direction. Rather than cause a scene by rushing to the counter, he sank slowly back into his chair, content to study Hannah from afar. Tension bunched her shoulders under the red sweater she wore with jeans. Casual—probably came from that photo shoot she’d mentioned yesterday. He stole a quick look down at his pressed dress shirt and slacks, a uniform he wore so often at school he rarely considered changing for other outings. Would he make Hannah uncomfortable being so dressed up?
Although, the distance in her expression as she made her way toward his table a few minutes later, coffee in hand, was already making him uncomfortable. What had he done? He was the one who was supposed to be distant tonight, holding back, making it clear this entire coffee meeting was about Abby. He didn’t want to give the wrong impression.
But judging by Hannah’s tight-lipped smile, one of them obviously already had.
He shifted in his seat. “Thanks for coming.” The words sounded even more stilted out loud than they had in his head, and Jude berated himself as Hannah slid into the chair across from him. He tried again. “Seems pretty windy out.”
That was worse. He shook his head slightly, determined not to speak again until Hannah did. Babbling niceties and commenting on the weather weren’t helping. Maybe she’d had a stressful day.

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