Page 37 of Educating Arrogant Mr. Hunter

Wide eyes stared at me. I held in the laugh that wanted to burst free. I should have expected something like this when I’d agreed to stop by. The kids in my class were notoriously curious about relationships and the possibility of love.

It didn’t escape my attention that Zoey’s smile grew even wider. I glanced at Beckett, wondering if we needed to talk to her about how a relationship between us would never happen. The school had rules against parents and teachers dating. And I wasn’t interested in him that way, right?

“Ohh, that would be so romantic.” Lizzy clasped her hands together and held them against her chest.

A few of the girls giggled.

I needed to nip this in the bud before they’d planned out my fictional relationship with Beckett and decided we were getting married. “No, girls, we are not dating.”

“Why not?” A voice piped up. I wasn’t sure if it had been Zoey or one of the other girls with their questions suddenly being tossed at me. Their voices began to blend together. I prayed it hadn’t been Violet London, who sat at the back of the cluster of girls. I had a feeling her mother wouldn’t be thrilled with me being at the Hunter’s house regardless if it was only to plan a school event.

“Do you already have a boyfriend?”

“How do you know when you like someone?”

“Would you want to go on a date with him?”

I held up my hands. “Girls, I’m going to stop you right there. Mr. Hunter and I are meeting to plan the Winter Festival. We arenotdating.” After my last conversation with the principal, I didn’t need this rumor to start floating around the school. I should’ve realized this was a bad idea and never agreed to stop by.

It was time to distract the kids. “Who’s hungry?” I grabbed a box of pizza from Beckett and opened it.

A chorus of me and shouts about which type of pizza they wanted ensued, effectively stopping the dating conversation. As I passed out plates to the girls, I kept my conversation light.

When I handed Zoey her pizza, she looked distracted. “Hey, Zo. You okay?”

She took her plate from me, disappointment set in her frown. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

She glanced at me and then at her dad before answering. “I’m sure. Thanks, Ms. Winter.”

“You’re welcome.” I snagged a few pieces for myself when Beckett gestured to the room beyond this one.

I nodded to let him know I’d be right there. As I slipped away from the living room, the girls were already flipping through the television’s streaming service to find a movie to play.

I gazed around me in astonishment. Beckett’s house was surprisingly ordinary, normal even. I’d expected him to live in a mega-mansion. Not a large colonial with a cute front porch and two-car garage. We entered a kitchen Ruby would’ve drooled over, with its white shaker-style cabinets, black quartz countertops, double oven, massive refrigerator, and a pot filler above the stove. Each piece screamed classy and high-end. I wondered if he’d bought it that way or if he’d renovated it after moving in.

“We can sit here.” He pointed to the large island with chairs set up on one side and a plate of pizza waiting for me. The under cabinets were a pretty gray-blue, and the seats looked comfortable.

I popped onto a stool, placed my oversized purse on the back of my chair, and bit into my pizza. The hum of pleasure slipped out before I could stop it. Pizza was my favorite food. My stepmother hadn’t allowed me to eat it, so now, as an adult, I indulged every chance I got.

Beckett cleared his throat, drawing my attention to him across the island. His eyes tracked my movements as I set the slice down and dabbed at my lips with a napkin.

It was silly that a sliver of disappointment settled in me that he looked just as good in his casual clothes, a black t-shirt and jeans, as he did in his bespoke power suit. His powerful, well-muscled body moved with an effortless grace. But what had captured my attention right now was how the soft cotton of his shirt caressed his tattooed arms, showcasing his raw strength. I so badly wanted to run my fingers or even my tongue over those sexy muscles.

He stared at me, and I wondered if he said something I missed.

Go away, sexy thoughts, I yelled at my way too overactive imagination. I wanted to throttle this dizzying current of attraction arcing through me that whispered I should touch him, taste him, feel him against me.

“This is really good,” I said, breaking the silence and wishing I’d come up with something a little better.

“Yeah,” he answered. His penetrating gaze met mine, and my body erupted in a responding inferno.

How was I supposed to think straight? One look at his tight ass as I followed him to the kitchen and my brain was scrambled. A good set of arms and butt were my kryptonite.

I needed to bring this back to why I was here. And making out with Beckett was not it. Now if I could convince my body, everything would be fine. “We should probably get to work.”

“You’re probably right.” He took a bite of pizza, and I had to force my gaze away as I realized I was staring at him.

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