Chapter 11
His plan was to go into Kat’s office and avoid discussing the kiss. Pretend like it never happened because that’s the way it needed to be.
Micah’s mind knew that, but his heart shredded the idea to pieces as soon as she walked into the room, looking all flustered and flushed. A rush of testosterone shot through him and all he could think of suddenly was locking that door, pushing her up against the wall, and pressing his mouth against hers.
“Hi.” Her voice was soft and sweet. He wanted to turn it to a raspy pant. Damn. He’d been celibate for too long. Maybe Lawson was right and all he needed was a good lay, but definitely not with Kat. Sleeping with her could only mean falling deeper under her spell.
“Did you need me for something?” she asked, stepping closer. She was wearing a floral dress that flirted with her legs, brushing up against them with every step she took.
Yep. He definitely needed her for something. Clearing his throat, he ran a quick hand through his hair. “Yes.” He nodded, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what he’d come here to ask her. Something about the after-school program maybe? Or Ben?
He focused on her rose-colored lips that tasted like honey. He loved honey, and he could think of a lot of places he’d like to taste it at the moment.
A smile crossed her mouth as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “We can’t talk about that here. This is where I work,” she said, lowering her voice.
He shook his head. “No. No, I didn’t come here to talk about that.” A nervous laugh escaped his lips. That’s what he’d come here not to talk about. “I, uh…I came here to talk about the Friendship Club.”
“Oh. Okay.” Taking a seat behind her desk, she motioned for him to sit at the chair in front of her. The idea of doing so made him feel like that bully being called to the principal’s office all those years ago. Except he’d never wanted to clear his principal’s desk and have his way with her. For one, his principals had all been about a hundred years old when he was growing up. So that ruled that out.
She stared at him expectantly. “What’s on your mind, Micah?”
He swallowed and took a step toward her desk. “You,” he said, doing his best not to tell her exactly what he was thinking.
Her eyes widened.
“I want to go out with you again,” he said, surprising himself, too. He’d made a conscious decision not to date Kat. Only, he’d been fantasizing about another date since they’d hugged goodbye at the gardens this weekend. He’d been fantasizing about a hell of a lot more than that.
A beautiful smile crossed those delicious honey lips.
“Except this time I want it to be real. I want to pick you up at your house, bring you flowers, and get you home by a reasonable hour.” Then follow you inside. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on her desk. “Will you go on a date with me, Kat? This Friday night?”
Suddenly, her smile dropped. “I, um. I can’t.” She held up her hands. “Not that I don’t want to. I do. But I kind of have this obligation.”
“Obligation?” he repeated, stunned that he was being turned down. He didn’t ask women out often, but when he did, he didn’t get turned down. He never should’ve asked her out in the first place. “What kind of obligation?” he asked.
Color rose through her neck and trickled into her cheeks. “I volunteer at the Veterans’ Center once a month, in honor of the men and women who’ve fallen. This Friday is the one I’m scheduled for. I help serve dinner. Then we play bingo. On Saturdays, there’s a dance and I sometimes help out with that, too. Only bingo this month, though. No dancing.”
He straightened, keeping his gaze on her. “Good. You can save your dancing feet for me next weekend.” He winked at her, feeling a little less rejected by the thought of her spending her night with a bunch of older men. At least that’s who he always imagined hung out at a place like that. Younger vets usually occupied the local bar or could be found playing a game of pool or taking up water sports at the nearby beach.
“You can help me serve on Friday night if you want,” she said then. “The Veterans’ Center is always looking volunteers.”
He shook his head ruefully. There was enough on his to-do plate already. Adding another volunteer job to his long list was definitely pushing his limits, and he hadn’t meant to ask her out anyway. It’d been a moment of insanity. “I should probably hang out with Ben,” he said, even though he’d spent nearly every night for the last two weeks with his son. Aunt Clara had been urging him to take time for himself lately. “He’s having a tough time these days with his mother’s deployment.” And the fact that Jessica hasn’t called even once.
“Well, you can bring him, too. I’ll put him to work calling out bingo numbers.”
Micah scratched his chin, considering this. “Ben would probably like that. He’s really happy to be helping out after school.”
“Good.” She smiled, meeting his eyes head-on, and holding his gaze for a long, sizzling beat.
If he brought Ben, he definitely wouldn’t be following Kat inside her home at the end of the night, which both relieved and disappointed him.
“Will you still bring me flowers and get me home at a reasonable hour?” she asked, leaning forward on her desk, making her blouse lower just enough for the disappointment to outweigh the relief. He wanted this woman in every way he’d never wanted anyone else before. He wanted to hold her, kiss her. Take that little whimper she did when he kissed her and turn it into a moan.
“I have this thing about flowers. I never cut the stem, and I talk to them when no one’s looking,” he said. “My son taught me that. I would only bring flowers to a woman that I trusted to continue spoiling them as much as I do.”
“Oh, I can be trusted.” Her green eyes danced as she looked at him. “I’ve never liked the idea of cutting the flower stems, either, actually. It seems kind of sad and barbaric, but…they are pretty.”
Micah gave his head a quick shake. “I’ve never had a woman say that to me. Kat Chandler, you might just be the perfect woman,” he teased, cutting himself off before he finished his thought. For me. You might just be the perfect woman for me.
And that thought scared the hell out of him.
“Then it’s a date.” She tucked a loose strand of her blond hair behind her ear.
He nodded. A date. Dating was not what he’d come here to talk about, but whatever that was had long been forgotten, buried under a thick blanket of smoldering desire.
“Was there something else you wanted to discuss?” she asked.
“Nope. Just us.” The last word caught him by surprise. Us. He needed to get out of this office fast before he said, or did, something else he’d probably regret later.
—
“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.