Page 2 of Tattooed By Her Silver Fox

Why has Robby not talked about this Ms. Catto before? Surely they’ve had parent-teacher conferences this late in the school year. Saving her for himself, maybe? Or too preoccupied with trying to provide for his son and keep his head above water more like it.

She repeats herself, and I shake my brain back to attention.

“Bash, why don’t you go color on the paper I gave you while I speak with your father.” She points him in the direction of a small table and chairs in the corner of the front office, and Bash bounds off, the curls on his head bouncing as he goes.

I don’t even correct her mistake. Sure, Bash could be my kid. We had Robby young, and in turn, he had Bash even younger. It’s an honest mistake, except for the streak of silver at my temples. I’m smiling until my gaze lands back on hers, and there’s a sternness that makes my mouth go hard again.

“I don’t want to make assumptions, Mr. Fox. I know it’s difficult being a working parent and a single father, but this is the fourth time this month Bash has been left late at school. The school made an agreement to keep Bash here for the remainder of the year, given the circumstances at home, but if he can’t be at school on time and picked up regularly, we may have to ask for him to be moved to his home school.”

“I understand what you’re saying. Ms. Catto. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

I’m about to call Bash to join me when she steps between us. “This time, I was able to stay to keep the principal from calling the authorities. But I have to be honest with you, Mr. Fox. The tardiness and late pick-ups are only part of the concern here. Bash is significantly behind in his academics, and his social skills aren’t on par with the other students his age. I’d strongly suggest you take his schooling more seriously if you don’t want Bash to fall further behind his classmates.”

She’s playing hardball, but I don’t miss the vein that throbs at the base of her throat or the second her breathing picks up from confronting me. I’ve also heard none of this before. As far as what Robby’d told me, Bash is a model student at school. Robby’s either had his head buried in the sand for longer than I thought, or Bash’s issues started before the split-up. Either way, it’s past time I step in and assist, starting right here with Ms. Catto and her sexy as sin curves.

I step closer until I’m an inch from her. Watching her breathing quicken and her lips quake gives me immeasurable joy. She’s scared as hell of me. Or, maybe I’m reading her wrong, and my attempts to unnerve her are a turn on. “Okay, what would you suggest I do?”

“Well, for starters, what are your plans for tonight?”

“Why? You want to make some?”

Her cheeks are pinker than a freshly spanked ass cheek, and with that thought now in mind, I’m hard as a rock and have to shift to widen my stance.

“No,” she clears her throat. “I was asking to see if I could help you plan some time to help Bash. Where are you going now, for instance?”

“The tattoo shop on the corner of Forth and Truman.”

Her mouth opens and shuts and opens again before she can speak. “With Bash?”

“Unless you’d rather I leave him at home alone, yes.”

She’s more flushed than she was seconds ago, and her hand rubs the back of her neck. “I see. And tonight? What will you be doing after you go to...the shop?”

“Bash will be in bed long before I finish for the night, Ms. Catto, if that’s where this is leading.”

She backs a step. “Maybe you should try not being out so late. You do have a child to raise.”

I laugh. Her knees are ready to give out from under her, but she’s determined not to back down from me. She’s intimidated by me. And she should be. I’m six-four and two-hundred-fifty pounds of raw muscle, and it all wants to do nothing more than pounce on her right here in front of the principal’s office. Especially when she tries to hide her fear under a blanket of fake bravado.

She’d have nothing to fear in my bed. I’d treat her like the damn goddess she is. A goddess who has no idea how much I love my grandson or what I’ll do to protect him, including keeping him in a familiar school while his family falls apart.

When I reach out to take Bash’s bookbag from her hand, she flinches so hard I’m not sure if I should be impressed at how well I’ve done my job, or be sad she sees me as a monster. I’d love to find out, but I’ve got a guy in a chair who’s been there all day, and he isn’t going to wait forever for me to convince this woman I’m not as bad as her imagination is making me out to be.

“Bash,” I call. “Let’s go.” Then I look at her. She’s leaning up against the reception desk, her eyes wide and hand over her heart.

“Maybe I should try to be home earlier for Bash, but it’s my shop I’m working all night, and if I don’t keep the clients happy, I don’t keep a roof over his head.”

Bash reaches me and takes my hand. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone so small in my life it takes getting used to for me to remember how it feels to hold onto him.

“Mr. Fox,” she starts, but as soon as I turn on her, she’s quiet again.

“Mr. Fox is what they call my son. Bash’s father. He also goes by Robby if you’d like to give him a call and set up a meeting. I’m Sabastian Fox, but everyone calls me just plan Fox. Bash is my grandkid.”

I know as soon as I walk out of the office, I’ve killed any chance I had with her.

She’s a double shot of whiskey. I’m foggy-headed and belly heated and already planning to do stupid shit with just one hit of Victoria Catto’s juicy curves and big brown eyes. Fuck, she can’t be much older than my kid. What the hell would she see in me?

“I’ll call your son in the morning.” her voice shakes as she calls to my retreating back.

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