Page 41 of The Heartbreaker
The clock on the wall showed that the bell wouldn’t be ringing for another three minutes. But without my supervision and no other adult in the classroom, the kids had the potential of getting rowdy.
I didn’t want to risk that.
I can’t, I mouthed to him.
“Please,” he said loud enough for me to hear. “I only need a minute.”
I was gripping the lip at the bottom of the whiteboard where the eraser sat, my fingers squeezing so tightly that the metal was piercing my skin.
Why did I feel like even though I was fully dressed, he was staring at my naked body? That “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails was playing through the speakers and I was swinging around the pole as the band sang the lyrics about fucking like animals.
“Addy …”
Would he leave without speaking to me?
Am I pushing off the inevitable?
Is this even really happening?
“Ridge—”
“Give me one minute,” he semi-repeated. “Youoweme that.”
I owe him?
A feeling came out of nowhere, bolting into my chest. It was strong enough that my hands released the small metal shelf, and I said to the students who were listening, “Excuse me for just a moment,” before I made my way to the hallway.
Despite the spiciness in the air that was building with each step, my breath hitched as soon as I was close enough to really smell him. But that wasn’t the only reaction happening inside my body. There were tingles too. Ones far too strong for my liking.
“What are you doing here?” I kept my voice as low as possible, but I couldn’t hide the urgency and accusation in my tone.
“What am I doing here?” He cleared his throat and touched the knot at the top of his tie, sending me another wave of his scent.
This morning, it was a combination of all three—earthy, salty, and extra sassy.
“What do you think I’m doing here?” he asked.
This was my first day at this school. I certainly didn’t want any administration to be walking the halls and see me talking to an uninvited guest who wasn’t even wearing a visitor pass. This was a place for learning, not putting out personal fires—or whatever this was about to turn into.
“I think you’re upset I didn’t reach out, and you somehow found your way here, and you want to talk about it.”
His hair was slicked and spiked, his beard brushed and trimmed, his lips parted, his blue and navy-flecked eyes gazing right at me. God, I wished he weren’t so hot. I wished he didn’t smell so good. And I wished I weren’t this attracted to him.
“This isn’t the place to have this conversation, Ridge. We can talk about it?—”
“That’s what you think?” He huffed and shook his head. “Do you see the little girl in the second row of your classroom? Ponytail, pink pencil, missing front tooth?”
I looked inside, scanning the children until I came across the one who fit his description. “Yes.”
“That’s Daisy. My daughter.”
His …daughter?
What?
That’s why he’s here?
The little girl he’d spoken about when I met him was now one of my students?
