by Annie Rains
—
“I am not putting my hands in the dirt,” Kimberly Flowers protested that afternoon. “When my father finds out—”
Kat held up a hand to quiet the girl. When Kim’s father finally got around to checking in with the assistant she’d talked to earlier, he’d be outraged. She was well aware of that. “You don’t have to touch the dirt today. You can sit at the picnic table and watch Ben do his work, and think about why you’re here.”
Kimberly cast a glance at Ben, who was sitting at one of the picnic tables. “Why does he get to work at the table? Because he’s in a wheelchair?”
“That’s right,” Kat said, taking her time as she responded, choosing her words wisely. “And if you say one negative thing to him, you’ll add another week to your punishment.”
Kimberly shrugged and, without another word, started walking toward Ben. She sat down at the very end of the bench. Ben looked at her, said something that Kat couldn’t make out, and continued working.
For a moment, Kat watched the after-school group, up to nine kids today. Their rows of dirt bloomed from the ground across the back lot of the school and green sprouts were beginning to peek through, lifting toward the sun. While most of these kids had put up a fight at first, they all sat on the earth now, watering their seedlings, patting the dirt, and some, thanks to Ben, were even talking excitedly to something that would never speak back. The kids were pouring their very souls into this project. Being here wasn’t a punishment, it was an opportunity, and she was proud of that.
The faint sound of a mower started in the background. Micah. Kat shielded her eyes from the sun and searched for him. Then her heart sank to her knees as she spotted a man dressed in an expensive suit heading across the lawn in her direction.
She swallowed as his frown creased deeper into his otherwise smooth skin. His gaze flicked toward Kimberly at the table and back to her. Something told her this was Mayor Flowers’s lackey, and he had a message from his boss.
“Miss Chandler?” the man asked when he was standing in front of her.
She nodded. “Principal Chandler. And you are?”
“Jack Markus, Mayor Flowers’s assistant.” He glanced at Kimberly again. “I have to say, the mayor was disappointed when he heard about what happened at the school today.”
So disappointed that he’d sent his assistant to do the talking for him, Kat thought, forcing a smile. “As was I. Anytime a student disrespects a teacher, it’s a very serious matter.”
Mr. Markus nodded with a practiced smile. “I understand. Certainly you can appreciate that the mayor doesn’t want his daughter staying after school with students who have more severe behavior issues, though.”
“Actually, Kim’s actions today were right on par with the behaviors that the other children here have exhibited.”
Irritation traced itself around Mr. Markus’s dark features: his eyes, his chin, and his compressed lips. “But Kimberly has extracurricular activities that demand her attendance. Why don’t you send home some punitive assignment, and I’ll see to it that it gets done.”
Kat crossed her arms. “If the mayor wants his daughter to attend a public school and be treated like every other child here, then she’ll also have to abide by the same rules and punishments. It is one hour after school. Yes, she’s missing soccer practice, but I spoke to Coach Donaldson and she’s in favor of Kimberly being here.”
“But Mayor Flowers is not,” Mr. Markus said pointedly, his smile unbudging.
Kat swallowed back her nerves and raised her voice, hoping she exuded confidence instead of the anxiety currently swirling through her. She was well aware of this family’s position in the community, but she had a position to uphold at this school. “Kimberly cannot participate in school sports or any extracurricular activity until she serves her time here. If you want to take her home, you’re free to do so, but until she’s served her two weeks, she’s banned from soccer and anything else that takes place on this campus.”
Mr. Markus’s gaze crossed the lot toward Kimberly once more, his smile finally fading to something that looked a lot like…disdain?
“You’re making them talk to plants?” he asked.
Kat nearly flinched at the disbelief in his voice. Yeah, she was walking a narrow line, straight toward unemployment. “It’s more than that. These kids are learning about responsibility. They’re working together as a team, which is a skill they’re going to need in the future.” She met Mr. Markus’s wary gaze. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
After a long pause, he nodded. “I do understand. I’ve always thought Kimberly could use…some direction. Being the only child of two very important people has got to be hard on a kid.” He smiled at Kat, his first sign of being a real person. “I’m not saying the mayor won’t protest, but I’ll talk to him.”
Kat sucked in a breath. “Thank you. That’s nice of you.”
“She’s got to learn, right? Isn’t that the purpose of school? More than just reading and math.”
Kat nodded. “Right.”
“I’ll pick Kimberly up in half an hour,” Mr. Markus said, taking a step back. “I’ll just go wait in the car.”
Kat turned back to the Friendship Club and watched the kids with their different chores, a giddy smile stretching her face uncomfortably. She’d stood up for what she believed in and hadn’t backed down. And it’d worked.
The mower came to a stop thirty feet away and she locked eyes with Micah, sweaty from the heat. He removed his ball cap and waved at her. Waving back, a flutter of heat tore through her, rivaling the pride she’d just felt in her administrative capabilities. He was an employee. A parent.
But she didn’t care because he was also the first man to make her feel this way in a very long time. Alive. Sexual. Like a woman.
—
Micah left the school that afternoon and drove straight to his aunt Clara’s. “Listen to your aunt, you hear me?” He pointed a finger at Ben, seated in his wheelchair beside the Jeep.
“Great-aunt,” Ben corrected, glancing over his shoulder at the older woman standing behind him in the driveway.
“We’ll be fine. Go on,” Aunt Clara urged, waving him away with her hand. “I’ve got him.”
Micah had grown to feel less guilty about leaving Ben here in the last month. He guessed that was progress. And Ben was starting to ask to come over, even when Micah had nowhere to go. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. A single man should want his freedom, not feel overwhelmed by it.
Tonight, though, he had no desire to leave Ben. Meeting his father at Camp Leon sounded more like a punishment than a good time, although for the life of him, he had no idea why the senior Peterson would want to punish him. Micah hadn’t told anyone about his plans not to reenlist next year. Not yet.
After hopping back in his Jeep, he drove all the way to the military base with the windows down. His father had said he wanted a tour of the “birds” which is what he called the V-22 Osprey. There was always a spark of pride in the old man’s eyes these days when he spoke about Micah being an Osprey pilot. Funny, he’d discouraged the decision when Micah had first announced he’d be applying for flight school. He’d been a twenty-two-year-old officer at the time and the options were endless. The obvious choice, though, according to his father, was to follow in his footsteps.
Instead, Micah had done six months in pre-flight classes before he was even allowed to set foot in the large aircraft. As soon as he had, he’d felt that unparalleled surge of adrenaline. The Marine Corps had never been his dream, but a new dream took hold of him when he sat in the pilot’s seat that first day. He did another three years after pre-flight before he was actually considered a pilot, and he’d suffered more than a little ridicule from his good ol’ dad during that time.
Colonel Peterson was waiting for him when he pulled up. Parking, Micah took a deep breath. He loved his dad, but sometimes, most times, he didn’t like him very much.
“Hey, Dad.” Micah waved
and headed in his direction.
“It’s Colonel Peterson when you’re on the job. You know that. And where’s your uniform?” his father asked in the brisk manner that he’d always used to communicate with his only child.
Micah slid his sunglasses over his eyes and avoided the question. “What do you want?”
His father’s lips tightened. “Walk with me,” he commanded.
“I already did my PT today. So if it’s exercise you’re after…” Micah contained a grin as his old man’s gaze slid over. A lot of grunts would go limp-kneed at the look, but Micah had learned a long time ago that his father was all smoke and mirrors. And while Micah was usually anything but a smart-ass—that was much more Lawson’s style—he enjoyed smart-assing his father.
They didn’t walk far. Just to the edge of the fence, where there were several straight-backed and uncomfortable-as-hell metal benches. They sat in silence for a long moment. Micah recognized this maneuver, too. He’d gotten the silent treatment a lot as a child, expected to squirm as he wondered what was going on. Not now. Micah was a grown man, and he really didn’t care what his father’s opinions were anymore. All he cared about was the fact that he was missing dinner with his son right now in order to be here at his father’s beck and call.
Slapping his hands on his thighs, he glanced over. “Well, this was great, Colonel. If that’s all you needed—” He started to stand.
“It’s time you moved up in rank,” his father finally spoke. “I hear you didn’t take the classes required to qualify you for a rank change last month.”
Micah shrugged. Yeah, he’d been a little busy last month designing gardens that had made grown men weep. “That’s right,” he said, not feeling the need to justify himself. He slid his sunglasses back over his eyes instead, and crossed a foot over one knee.
“You’ll take the required trainings and apply for rank next month.”
His father didn’t say as much, but Micah recognized an order when he got one. He’d been taking orders his entire life. Tightening and relaxing the muscles in his jaw, he nodded. The alternative to agreeing with his good ol’ dad’s order was telling him where he could stick it. And then admitting that he wouldn’t be reenlisting next year, so upping rank wasn’t exactly a priority. Micah wasn’t ready for that battle of wills just yet, though. Not while he was still in the planning stages—building his client list for landscaping and pulling off exhibits like he’d done last week. His father was a man who was…effective at getting his way, and Micah didn’t want to leave him any room to crash his plans.
“Well, if that’s all, sir.” Standing, Micah offered a sarcastic salute, which could’ve just as easily been his middle finger going up. Then he headed back to his Jeep, hating that he hadn’t told his father where he could go with his hard-ass orders. Micah had made a calculated move, though, just like the military had trained him so well to do. His father had won this little battle, but the war was definitely going to be his.
Chapter 12
Kat’s stomach turned at the mention of Mayor Flowers being on the other line.
“Thanks, Val. Put him through.” She plopped down in her black leather office chair and sucked in a deep breath. The mayor was just a person, a parent like any other. She’d simply explain that Seaside Elementary was cracking down on misbehavior this year, and no student was exempt.
“Principal Chandler.” The mayor’s voice was deep and smooth. She imagined him wearing the plastered smile that politicians wore as he sat behind his cherry desk, paid for by the good citizens of Seaside. “I hear we have a problem.”
She grabbed the stress ball from her desk drawer and squeezed. “We do, sir. But as I told Mr. Markus, two weeks and your daughter is free to go back to her normal after-school routine.”
“You see, Ms. Chandler…” the mayor began.
Kat noted that the “principal” title had been dropped.
“That’s the problem,” he said. “Kimberly has sports she has to attend to. She can’t be held behind with a bunch of, shall we say, less-than-honor-student children, to pick up litter and do gardening. I’m sure you can see why a man in my position couldn’t have that.”
Kat closed her eyes, squeezing the ball in her hand until pain seared through the divots in her knuckles. “When you enrolled Kimberly here, sir, you told me that you wanted her to be treated like everyone else.”
“And I do, Katherine.”
Now her last name had been dropped, too. Next, he’d be calling her Kat.
“How about I make a generous donation to support your little effort? The Friendship Club, is it? I’m sure you could use some monies to help the kids out. Does five hundred dollars sound sufficient?”
Kat’s mouth fell open and she dropped the ball on her desk, then she looked up as someone knocked on her door. The person behind it didn’t wait for her to reply. He just slipped in.
Micah.
She held up a finger, silently asking him to hold on. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Mayor.” And part of her was doing the math. Five hundred dollars could buy new equipment. They could even build a greenhouse. And she’d always been interested in doing a recycling program at the school. She could start by having the after-school kids organize it.
The mayor chuckled. “Good. I’ll have my assistant—”
“But the answer is no. Sir, this club is making a difference in these kids’ lives, on school property and off. I know it is. And your daughter means too much to me as a principal to let her get away with treating others with disrespect. This is the period in her life when her moral code is being developed. The lessons she learns here, as a student at Seaside Elementary, will influence who she becomes as an adult. If she doesn’t serve her time in the club, she can’t play sports. That’s my decision.”
Kat locked eyes with Micah. The world was spinning and he was her focal point.
“I see.” The mayor cleared his throat, his tone of voice sharpening dramatically. She could no longer hear the plastic smile behind the receiver. “That’s a shame, Kat,” he said. “I was hoping we could work this out civilly.”
“I hope you understand.” A sick feeling crawled through her stomach as she listened.
“I do. I understand that you’re the youngest principal to ever work at one of the Seaside schools. There was a lot of talk about whether or not you were up for the job when you came on. Personally, I think it was the sympathy vote that got you into office. Everyone knows the story about you and your fiancé.”
Her throat tightened so much that her hand actually went to her neck to pull the loose fabric of her shirt away. “Maybe that’s true, Mayor Flowers. But hopefully it’ll be my professional achievements that keep me in this position.”
Micah took a step closer, his brows lowering with weighing concern.
“We’ll see,” the mayor said. “Have a good day, Katherine.” And with that, the line went dead.
With a shaky hand, she set the phone back in its cradle. For a long moment, she was afraid to move, afraid to talk, to look up and meet Micah’s dark eyes.
“Everything all right?” he asked, moving around to her chair. He reached out a finger and gently tipped her chin upward, forcing her to look at him.
With eyes burning, mostly out of anger, she shook her head. “I think…the mayor just threatened my job if I don’t let Kimberly off the hook.” Now her entire body was shaking. Damn it.
Micah pulled her into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around her. “You did the right thing,” he whispered.
And she knew he was right. She had done the right thing. “But what if—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, as if he knew what she was going to ask. “Honor, courage, commitment. That’s what a Marine stands for. I’d say you just showed all three of those qualities.”
She pulled her head back to look at him. Then she watched numbly as he dipped his head closer to hers, hovering at her lips and waiting for a signal that she wanted him to.
&nbs
p; And hell yeah, she wanted him to.
She clutched his T-shirt and pulled him the rest of the way, moaning slightly as his tongue lunged into her mouth. His hands caressed her mid-back, then traveled up and around the curve of her breasts. Oh, God, she really wanted him to. Her body ached as his kisses lowered to her neck and then to the slight cleavage at the top of her blouse. Good thing he’d closed her office door behind him. She wanted him to unbutton her blouse. Wanted his mouth to cover her breasts. Wanted him to—
The phone buzzed on her desk. Kat’s eyes snapped open, locking on Micah’s. The machine buzzed again. Reaching over, she pressed the call-receive button. “Yes?”
“Kat?” Val’s voice blared into her office. “What happened with the mayor?”
Kat cleared her throat. She’d have to kill Val later.
“And is Mr. Peterson still in there with you?” Val asked.
Micah removed his hands from Kat’s body and straightened as Kat pulled her clothing back into position.
“Yes, he is,” she said, unnerved by the shaky quality to her voice. Val would know exactly what was going on in here. Val always knew. Her brain was wired toward romance and sex.
“What are you guys doing in there anyway?” Laughter played in her friend’s voice.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow night, okay? Over chips and salsa.” Kat pressed the hang-up button and looked at the dark hunk of muscle in front of her. She had no intention of confessing anything to Val. Not yet. Whatever was developing between her and Micah was private, and she didn’t need anyone else’s opinion about what should happen next.
“I, uh…I’m sorry.” Concern etched itself on his forehead.
“Sorry?” Her smile evolved to a small laugh. “I was just about to thank you.”
—
“If you want my opinion,” Val began.
“I don’t.” Kat dipped a tortilla chip in a small bowl of salsa at the center of the table. “But tell me anyway.”
Val smiled. “Take the money from the mayor and move on. Kimberly Flowers will always be a spoiled brat as long as she’s under those people’s roof.”