Hawk
Everything that could go wrong today already has, and I just went ahead and made it worse.
I haven’t been in trouble with a woman like I was today in a long time. Not since Sadie and I were married, but even then, it’s been years since I was on the receiving end of such indignation.
And even worse, I kind of liked it. Veronica Hollifield. Principal of Palm High School.
The woman’s got some balls on her, I’ll say that. She talks like a drill sergeant, but she looks like a wet dream come to life.
I don’t usually go for professional types. The last woman I dated who wore starched blouses was Sadie. And that woman, speaking of balls, tried to put mine in a meat grinder and make sausage with them.
Miss Hollifield looks like a pinup model poured into a pencil skirt, but she talks like a high school teacher.
Quick. Sharp. Smart. And based on the cleavage straining against the buttons, that starched blouse did something right in a past life because she has a banging body to go with that big brain.
When I went to school—and granted, I didn’t pay attention to much—none of the teachers looked like Miss Hollifield.
Maybe that’s why she’s the principal. With those long waves of golden blond hair and hazel eyes that look like caramel and honey, I don’t see how boys could do anything but hide their boners all day.
She’d be way too dangerous at the front of a classroom.
Although, to be fair, the way she looked at me, the tone of her voice when she was going on about consequences…I kind of think she might like being dominant and in charge. I’d love to see how she’d boss me around in other, more appealing circumstances.
The second I think that thought, I shove it far, far to the back of my mind.
This is Holly and Daisy’s principal. I need to not fuck up this babysitting gig for Phantom and Poppy. I need to not fuck up this dinner for the girls.
As I head into the compound, I wonder what the hell came over me, inviting the kids’ principal to dinner. First of all, it’ll probably be weird for the girls. Second, it’s definitely going to be weird for me.
I can’t bribe the woman out of giving the kids detention. And tomorrow is my last day babysitting. Phantom and Poppy will be home by early evening, so I have just one more morning of trying—and hopefully not failing—to get these girls to school on time.
Why on earth would I invite her over for dinner?
I pull the SUV into the parking lot at the compound and check my phone.
I have texts from Tank apologizing again for not waking me up this morning.
It’s not the prospect’s fault that I overslept.
He apparently tried to wake me up to take my shift keeping watch over the house, but when I didn’t budge, he stayed up all night so I could rest. He had no clue what time I needed to get up for the girls because I never told him.
So now, he’s out on a job with zero sleep because the kid was too afraid to wake my sorry ass up in the middle of the night. I can’t say I blame him. I just wish the kids hadn’t been late twice in a row.
Although as I scroll my contacts and find Miss Hollifield, I can’t say I’m all that sorry. If the girls hadn’t been late, I wouldn’t have gotten my ass handed to me by a very, very fine school administrator.
And I wouldn’t have something to look forward to tonight. You know, other than more pore masks or whatever the hell was happening on the kids’ faces last night.
I pull up the contact and text Phantom’s address over to Miss Hollifield. I see the little bubble pop up to show that she’s texting back, so I wait a few seconds, but nothing comes through. Maybe she won’t reply. Maybe she can’t. I’ve got shit to do, so I get out of the truck and head inside.
“Zero for two, I hear.” Stella’s leaning against the bar, a large mug of coffee in one hand. The way she’s leaning, she’s giving me a huge eyeful of her cleavage.
Most days, I’d look just for the sake of looking, but something about the swell of her tits makes me think of Miss Hollifield.
The way the white buttons just barely held the perfect white dress shirt closed over her full breasts.
She’s no skinny minnie. Not like Stella, who could stand to put on a couple dozen pounds.
I like women who feel like women, whose bodies bounce when they ride you, whose softness and curves make you want to lose yourself completely.
I’m not into the heroin-chic look or the starvation vibes you see in Hollywood right now. Although why I’m even thinking about the kind of woman I want and Miss Hollifield in the same sentence makes absolutely no fucking sense.
“Fuck me,” I grumble, pointing to the mug Stella’s holding. “You got any left?”
She nods and turns her back to me to pour me a fresh mug. Stella is part house mom, part bartender, part barista, and all sass. “You get stuck washing chalkboards or whatever they do to kids these days?”
I shake my head. “Was that ever a thing?” I ask.
She winks at me and shoves a mug of coffee just the way I like it over the bar. “One more day and you’ll be off duty.”
I nod and take a long, needy sip of coffee. “I’ll pick the kids up from school this afternoon,” I tell her. “I’ve got shit to do, and I’ll be out that way.”
She nods. “You want Tank back for the overnight?”
I shake my head. “He’s working today, and he stayed up all night on watch at Phantom’s.”
Stella looks concerned.
I drain my coffee mug and set it down. “I need eyes. I’ll talk to Savage.”
Stella shakes her head. “Claire texted me earlier that the baby has a bad cough. He’ll probably want to be home with his girls.”
Right. I’ll check in with Shadow. He and I are getting a little old for overnight gigs, but for Phantom’s kids, I can guarantee he’ll be down for whatever needs to be done. Especially after seeing someone case the house the other night.
I thank Stella for the coffee and head back to the offices. I have a few things I need to check on for Phantom. But the minute I sit behind the desk, I start thinking about food. Dinner, specifically. And what I’m going to cook for Miss Veronica Hollifield, Principal of Palm High.
I’m at the butcher counter looking at cuts of steak when my phone buzzes with a voice message.
I pull the device from my pocket to see that a number I don’t have saved in my contacts has left a message.
I check the texts back from earlier today.
Miss Hollifield has not responded to my text with Phantom’s address, and her name is now in my phone, so the message can’t be from her.
Unless maybe she’s calling from the school’s phone?
I sigh and peer over the meat options while I press play on the voice message.
“Nico, hi. It’s me. I know you don’t want to talk to me, and according to the divorce paperwork, you don’t have to talk to me, but I’d really…”
I hit delete mid-word. Fuck Sadie and whatever she wants from me.
The fishing cottage. A loan. I don’t give a shit if she’s got a flat on the side of the road and needs a tire change.
I’ve paid that woman enough of my money after our divorce; she should be able to abandon the car and buy a new one if she’s in some kind of trouble.
I don’t care. She’s not my problem anymore.
I pick out steaks for tonight when it occurs to me that Miss Hollifield could be a vegan or some shit. I open the text I sent her earlier and follow it up with a question.
Me: Anything you can’t or won’t eat?
I hit send, then head off to the bakery to find dessert. By the time I pick out some red velvet cupcakes, I have a response back from her.
Miss Hollifield School Bitch: Yes.
I snort and shake my head. Leave it to a teacher to be incredibly literal. I’m about to reply when she beats me to it. She follows up her curt yes with,
Miss Hollifield School Bitch: Sorry. In a meeting. I’m not really into seafood, but just about anything else is great. Thank you for asking. Can I bring anything?
Me: Come as you are. Thank you, Miss Hollifield.
I want to add how much I’m looking forward to seeing her, but that’s a dangerous thought to have.