Chapter Eight
When Sara opened the door to her classroom after dropping James off at first grade, she gasped. Sitting on her desk was a huge bouquet of roses in every color imaginable. She had no idea how the flowers had gotten here before she’d unlocked her classroom—had a janitor let in the delivery person?—but she was too preoccupied with smelling the blossoms.
She didn’t need to read the card to know it was from Harrison. Opening the small note tucked underneath the ribbon surrounding the vase, she read: I can’t stop thinking about you. Let me take you out again. –HT.
Simple, short, and to the point. She smiled even wider. Touching the silky petals, she couldn’t help but remember their encounter in the backseat of his car last night. She was twenty-eight years old and she’d never do
