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He got out of a Corvette. A 1965 mint-condition Corvette.

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“Unusual transportation for a crossing guard,” Valerie murmured. Stupid thing to say. But damn, there was a lot about this man that didn’t add up.

“I haven’t always been a crossing guard.”

No kidding. “What did you used to be?”

“An unhappy member of the corporate world. Now I’m a happy crossing guard.”

An explanation of sorts, if somewhat flippantly delivered. But no answer at all. How could someone with his drive and intelligence be satisfied not using his talents?

“You’re going to be a crossing guard for the rest of your life?”

“You have a problem with that?” Kirk’s tone was light.

“No.” Maybe. It just seemed like such a waste.

“It’s honorable work. And the kids—including your twins—deserve the best.”

“Of course they do.” But it didn’t take a businessman successful enough to drive a mint-condition vintage Corvette to provide that at a low-traffic side street.

Valerie knew, without another word being said, that this particular conversation was over.

For the Children

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