Page 7 of Thrown

“Everyone calls him Robbie,” Early corrected him. “Robert is the earl.”

The reminder that Toby was dealing with a bunch of aristocrats chilled whatever heat had sparked in his gut at the knowledge Robbie was gay.

“Yeah, well,Robbiewas supposed to give me a tour of the house and grounds so I could begin my assessment,” he said, letting his accent slip a little. “But now he’s buggered off to his class.”

“I’ll give you the tour,” Early said, gesturing for Toby to follow. “I’ve been working with the Hawthornes for two years now, so I have a lot of tea to spill. I also know a lot about the house.”

Toby smiled, relaxing for the first time since stepping foot in the house. He was still determined to do his job well, despite how many arseholes lived at Hawthorne House. He relished the idea of coming up with the plan that saved the day…and having Robbie Hawthorne kiss his feet because of it.

THREE

Who didToby Tillman think he was, marching into a family business and telling them they were wanting? Robbie was well aware of the fact that he needed to calm down, that Tillman was, in fact, doing his job. But something about the young, scrappy man had his back up, and Robbie didn’t like it.

“Alright, class. Now that I’ve shown you how to roll coils, it’s time for you to make your own pots. So have at.”

Robbie tried his best to smile at the ten children from the local primary school who made up his first class of the day, but the irritation left from his interactions with Tillman was like a sticky layer of sap across his skin that he couldn’t rub off. Tillman would probably have something to say about Hawthorne Community Arts Center offering art classes to the primary schools in the area at a discounted rate, but a commitment to education and the arts had been a core value of the family for generations. And it happened to be one of Robbie’s passions.

Men like Tillman were all the same, Robbie thought with an inner growl as he helped the passel of ten-year-olds fetch clay from the special shelves put aside for them, then got a few ofthem started on rolling the long “snakes”, as he called them for his juvenile classes, so they could start on the project of the day. Men like Tillman were cold and implacable. They didn’t see the human element in anything they did, only the bottom line.

Of course, Tillman hadn’t seemed cold at all in their brief interaction. He’d been extraordinarily hot, if Robbie was honest. The incongruity of the sharp, no nonsense business suit and the lip ring hinted at exactly the kind of acknowledgement of authority while still giving it the old two-finger salute that had always sent his blood pumping. If that sort of attitude had been directed at anyone other than himself, Robbie would have found it an absolute turn-on.

“Mr. Hawthorne, sir,” one of the sweeter girls in the class, Vienna, called out his name as she grasped at a ball of clay on the shelf that was just out of her reach. The others had snatched the ones closer to the edge of the shelf, and Vienna was too short to reach the ones in the back. “Help me, please?”

Robbie’s heart melted a little as he crossed the room to fetch the clay for Vienna. “Here you go, love.”

Vienna rewarded him with an adoring smile before hurrying back to her place at the long, canvas-covered table where the kids were rolling out their clay.

On any other day, Robbie’s smile and good feeling would have stayed in place as he walked around the table, excited about what the children were making, and hopeful about each one of them developing an appreciation for the arts that would be life-long.

Instead, he couldn’t shake Toby Tillman from his thoughts. It wasn’t only the impertinent suggestions he’d already made, about electricity and renting out classrooms. Somewhere in the back of his head, Robbie knew they were solid ideas. It was the audacity of the man to arrive like a bulldog, but one with a handsome face and, if his judgment of what sort of body therewas under his suit was correct, exactly the sort of body Robbie liked to tangle up the sheets with.

He let out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face as he made it to the end of the table. There was nothing out of the ordinary about finding a man physically attractive and fuckable. Those sorts of first impression were exactly what had begun many a fun night in his past. Everyone in the Hawthorne family had been raised to embrace their sexuality and, provided they were safe about it, to explore and enjoy it without shame or hesitation.

But at the present moment, Robbie was in a room full of kids, so those thoughts were inappropriate. And Toby Tillman, with his angry energy and an obvious chip on his shoulder, did not deserve his thoughts.

Of course, because fate was a bitch, at just that moment, Tillman himself walked straight into the room. His bristling energy hadn’t waned at all, and he looked around the room as though he were dying to find something to criticize.

Robbie’s entire body heated, and he had to purposefully turn away to avoid meeting Tillman’s eyes as he glanced in Robbie’s direction.

“Sir, look!” one of the boys at the table, Owen, called him over, giving Robbie just the excuse he needed to avoid Tillman entirely. “I’ve made him a top hat.”

As soon as Robbie saw the coiled snake pot, complete with snake head at the top, that Owen had made, his mood shifted and he laughed with genuine enjoyment.

“That’s brilliant, Owen,” he said, moving in to take a closer look at the pot. “Very well done.”

A huge part of Robbie wanted to ruffle the lad’s hair or pat him on the shoulder, but there was enough undue scrutiny on an openly gay teacher instructing children, a nasty relic of a bygone era when prejudice had been at its very worst, that Robbie madea point never to make physical contact with his students, despite the paternal instinct he knew resided within him.

“How do I make those glasses with only one side?” Owen asked, frowning up at Robbie.

“I beg your pardon?” Robbie stared back at him, puzzled.

“You know, those glasses with just one eye that posh people wear.”

“He means a monocle,” Tillman interjected from the side of the room, where he was now leaning against one of the shelves with his arms crossed.

“Thank you,” Robbie replied tightly, his back up all over again. He forced himself to breathe, then focus on Owen. “Well, you could make a monocle in several different ways. How about trying a very small coil?”

Owen smiled with inspiration, then pinched off a small bit of clay to give it a try.

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