Smarty Pants: A Small Town Curvy Girl Romance (Juniper Creek Book 5) by C.L. Cruz

Author:C.L. Cruz [Cruz, C.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Cash

That night, after flashlight tag wraps up, Reagan disappears to the other side of the house with the girls while I follow the boys to our bedrooms. It’s impossible to get any sleep, though, not when I can still feel Reagan pressed against me, her intimate warmth, the taste of her sweet mouth. I know without a doubt that I’m a lost cause. I’ll read Jane Eyre and any other terrible romance she wants every night for the rest of my life if it means I get to spend it with her. That’s how bad I have it.

And I want the rest of the world to see her brilliance, too. She hides behind the words of others when she has so much to say. I think of the crumpled piece of paper with her poem on it that she threw away, now safely tucked in my own bag. Maybe all she needs is a little push, a nudge into the spotlight for her to realize her own potential.

The next morning is our last one at the retreat. After breakfast, everyone goes their own ways to work on their projects. I follow Reagan out to the chairs at the end of the dock, where we sit and watch the sunrise paint the sky in orange and pink.

“I had a really great time,” Reagan says, turning her face to the sun.

“Me, too,” I tell her. “And not just because of the kids.”

She smiles. “I should hope there were some other important highlights of your weekend.”

I nod seriously. “S’mores.”

She swats me, and I grab her hand, not releasing her when she tries to tug it away. “The kids will see,” she scolds me.

“So what? Let them see.” I tug her forward and plant a kiss on her lips. She lets it linger for a moment but then pulls away again.

“I’m their teacher,” she says. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

I relent, and we spend the rest of the morning discussing the stories and poems the kids workshopped this weekend.

“I think we can get the funding to publish a magazine,” I tell her. “The kids can design it, have their work in print. It would be special.”

Reagan nods but adds, “It should be optional, though. They shouldn’t publish if they don’t want to.”

“Part of creating is sharing,” I argue. “They should all contribute.”

She changes the subject after that, distracting me with the mention of how we can spend our time together once we get back into town.

The same grumpy bus driver picks us up after lunch. We take our same seats as before—Reagan in front with me right behind her. The kids head to the back, and I notice some of them congratulating Reagan as they pass her.

“Way to go, Ms. D.”

“Nice work, Ms. D.”

As the bus pulls out, Reagan turns back to me. “I have no idea what that’s about. They’ve been doing it all morning.”

I smile at her. “I might know.”

Her brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

I pull out my phone

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