13. Theo
Theo
Ishould be tired when I close my front door, but I’m not.
I’m buzzing. Buzzing after wrapping up a late meeting with Eleanor. We’ve made a lot of progress on the fundraiser plans now that Safe Harbor has been approved, and it’s a weight off my shoulders knowing we’re finally moving forward.
But if I’m being completely honest with myself, I’m not buzzing about that.
I’m buzzing about her.
Despite my best intentions, we didn’t go to the conference room tonight. Instead, we stayed in my office, eating Thai food under soft lighting, as if we were on some kind of date.
Which is utterly absurd. Eleanor is young, vibrant, and full of life; I’m sure she would have zero interest in dating a man my age. A man who’s hardened himself against the joy in the world.
I’d delayed our meeting, telling myself it would allow me to catch up on the work I’d missed during the board meeting, but I knew that wasn’t the real reason.
I needed more time to recover after that moment in her classroom this morning.
Time after the school day to get my head on straight.
To decide whether I really could work closely with her.
I knew that once I told her the board had approved Safe Harbor, there would be no going back.
But all I did was pace my office restlessly, unraveling by the minute. Delaying our meeting only ensured one thing: we’d be alone.
And while that should have worried me, it didn’t. More than anything, I was relieved. No one else was on our floor. We could let our guards down, at least a little, as we worked.
But letting my guard down is the last thing I should do with her.
It was a mistake to send Margaret home early. To let Eleanor come into my office with food. To watch her full, soft mouth as she ate.
Christ.
As a headmaster, I pride myself on traits like control and restraint. These are what allow me to run a school efficiently, to keep a cool head under pressure.
But I cannot keep cool around Eleanor. When she’s present, I’m the opposite of composed. Tonight, I damn near lost my mind. The way she tucked her hair behind her ears, the peek of cleavage I stole when she leaned across to clear the table, the jolt of electricity I felt when my hand brushed hers…
And God, when she called me sir this evening, it had a very different effect than it has in the past. I had to race to my desk to hide it from her.
It’s bad enough that she’s a competent, capable teacher with brilliant ideas that push me out of my comfort zone.
But to see her like I did tonight, in the soft light of my office, her hair loose, her delicate floral scent teasing me as she sat so close…
I can no longer see her as simply a teacher, my employee.
Tonight, I saw her as a woman.
And that’s incredibly dangerous.
I should not be having these thoughts about Eleanor, for many reasons. I’m her boss, and the power imbalance between us is real. As if that wasn’t enough, she’s only a couple of years older than Juliana. Young enough to be my daughter herself. That alone is reason enough to stay well away.
To act on this would do the one thing I’ve sworn not to let happen again under my watch: damage the school’s reputation.
In case I needed the reminder, my father called this afternoon.
Even from Florida, he keeps in touch with the board, feeling the need to check in from time to time.
He seemed especially skeptical about Safe Harbor, and I spent twenty minutes explaining why this new initiative will benefit the school.
I understand his hesitation. I was like that at first, too. Worried it was too soft, not nearly academic enough. But now I find myself defending it.
Defending her.
No matter how hard I try, my defenses are crumbling.
When she showed up with takeout and a hopeful smile this evening, I was helpless to do anything other than let her in.
And when I saw her face light with pure joy as I told her Safe Harbor is going ahead…
Shit. I wanted to pull her close and kiss that smile right off her pretty face.
I haven’t wanted to do that to a woman in a very long time.
And I’ve never wanted to do it to someone who works for me.
I toe my shoes off at the door, stripping my shirt as I head straight to the shower. I need to cleanse myself of these terrible thoughts before they escalate.
Before I do something stupid.
But as I kick off my slacks and boxer-briefs, my fingers brush my cock.
That’s all it takes for Eleanor’s face to flash through my mind, for all the blood in my body to rush south.
For me to end up standing in the shower with my fist wrapped around my length, telling myself I’m not hurting anyone.
It’s a fantasy, just for me. A chance to blow off a little steam, to take the edge off, to make sure I keep my hands to myself.
A few tugs, and I let my hand drop, unable to go through with it. I want to respect her, not degrade her. She deserves better.
Rinsing off, I step from the shower, unable to wash away my shame.
I go to bed still hard.
I wake to the sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand in the dark. Blinking from a restless, sweaty slumber, I fumble for the lamp, flooding the room with light, then lift the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I ask groggily. My first thought is that it’s Eleanor, which makes no sense. Why would it be? Must be the remnants of a dream, because I’m certain I was dreaming about her.
“Mr. Wright? It’s José.”
“José?” I pull the phone from my ear to check the time; 4:45 in the morning. What could the head of security need me for at this time? “Everything okay?”
“Not really, sir. You’re going to want to see this.”
Dread settles in my stomach as I hastily dress and head out onto campus. The grounds are still cloaked in pre-dawn shadow, the air damp and heavy with salt. Light flickers faintly behind the maintenance shed, and I follow the sound of José’s urgent, concerned voice.
When I arrive, I see exactly what he means.
Shards of glass glitter beneath a smashed window, catching the beam from José’s flashlight.
The door hangs ajar on broken hinges, glass crunching underfoot as I peek inside.
The cabinets have been yanked open, drawers left hanging, their contents strewn across the floor.
A sickening feeling twists my gut as I take in the wreckage. Who would do this? I glance back to ask José, but he answers before I can.
“Probably just some kids, or someone looking for something to make a quick buck.”
“Maybe,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing any of the staff would bother with. Most of them have access to far more expensive equipment inside. Why break into the shed for this?
From behind us, footsteps crunch softly over fallen leaves. I glance over my shoulder as a tall, broad-shouldered figure approaches in the dark, toolbox in hand.
Mason Blackwood has been the groundskeeper here for six years.
A quiet and brooding man who prefers to keep to himself, he works on the school grounds alone and seldom interacts with other staff, no doubt because rumors seem to follow him like a shadow.
The faculty speculate that he’s ex-military.
That he’s done time. That he’s on the run from something.
I ran a full background check before hiring him and nothing came up.
Just a man who works hard. He keeps the school running smoothly, never takes a day off, never misses anything. I respect his dedication.
Mason crouches by the door without a word, examining the hinges, his dark brows furrowed. “Snapped in half,” he says finally, voice low and even.
José nods. “I heard the noise, but by the time I got here, whoever did it was long gone.”
Mason stands and heads inside, flashlight in hand, methodically checking the damage. I know he’ll get the place cleaned up and secured again in no time, but that’s not what bothers me.
What bothers me is knowing someone did this to our school. The place I’m supposed to protect. And even though it makes no sense, this feels like a punishment. For the thoughts I’ve been having about Eleanor lately.
For what I almost did in the shower last night.
Guilt claws at me as I give José instructions to document the damage, then walk the school grounds, checking for other signs of forced entry, vandalism, or missing property.
Everything else seems secure, and as I hurry home to shower and dress in the early pre-dawn light, I chastise myself for letting this happen.
Between the break-in and whatever the fuck is going on with Eleanor, I’m losing control.
The twisted knot in the pit of my stomach is enough to remind me I can’t let that happen.
The day drags on like no other. I spend my time filing police reports, looking over surveillance footage with José, discussing repairs with Mason, and typing up a report to the board that I ultimately decide not to send.
The incident is low-level enough that there’s no need to alert them or the staff.
José is probably right in that it’s likely just kids or someone looking to make a few dollars, and the last thing I need is to cause unnecessary panic.
By late afternoon, I’m exhausted, starving, and cranky.
I shove away from my desk with an agitated sigh, rolling out my neck.
A headache grips my temples, my shoulders tight.
I could use a drink, but I still have to meet with Mason.
He’s done an inventory of the missing items so I can file with our insurance provider.
Stalking to the window, I stare out at the sea, a dull green under looming gray clouds. The sky has threatened rain all day, with low rumbles of thunder rolling in from the ocean, but so far, nothing.
Yanking my tie loose, I turn back to my desk. I drain my sixth cup of cold coffee for the day, screwing my face up at the bitterness, and sink into my chair. A tentative knock at the door draws my eye from my computer.
“Yes?” I bark impatiently.
Nothing.
Heaving a sigh, I push to my feet and march to the door, jerking it open.
Eleanor stands there, clutching her binder as she stares up at me, wide-eyed.
I blow out a long-held breath, unable to stop my eyes from straying down her dress.
Deep forest green, covered in a pattern of various woodland creatures: foxes, deer, squirrels, even red toadstools.
Matching red toadstools dangle from her ears, catching my eye as she glances anxiously over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, shifting her weight. “I thought we were meeting…”
Shit. Is it that time already?
Her hazel eyes return to me, lingering. She’s pulled her hair back today, exposing the soft, pale skin of her neck, her pulse beating faintly at the base of her throat. The urge to lower my mouth to that spot overwhelms me, and I wrestle my gaze back to hers.
Fuck.
She swallows, her gaze slowly tracking my face, and I drag a hand through my hair. I must look like utter shit. I’ve run myself ragged all day, telling myself it was what I needed to do to keep a lid on the incident this morning, but as I gaze at Eleanor now, I know it was to punish myself.
To punish myself for wanting her.
I should send her away. I should tell her she can’t help with the fundraiser any more, that I’ll take it from here, but even if I could manage the workload alone, I could never do that to her. It would crush her after everything she’s poured into it already, and I couldn’t hurt her like that.
I have no choice but to continue working with her.
“Miss Hart,” I say, attempting a formal tone, but my voice comes out as a low, frustrated grumble. Over her shoulder, I spy Mason approaching in the hall, and sigh. “I’m so sorry to do this to you again, but I still have a few things to do.”
Her face falls before she quickly schools her expression. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to meet today—”
“I do,” I answer quickly. Too quickly. “I just need…” I check my watch. “Can you give me an hour to wrap this up?”
She twists her lips to one side in thought. For a second I think she’s going to say no, that she has somewhere to be, and the muted ache of disappointment stirs in my chest.
But she nods, smiling hesitantly, and says, “So… pizza?”
It takes me a second to realize she’s asking about dinner, and despite everything that’s happened today, I laugh. The kind of laugh that starts deep in my chest, working its way up my throat.
The kind of laugh that’s a relief.
Eleanor’s eyebrows shoot up, a surprised smile curving her lips, and everything in me softens at the sight.
That smile is the best thing I’ve seen all day.