Chapter 2
Kat studied the parent standing in her office. He had a deep frown creasing the skin between his dark eyes. There was also something vaguely familiar about him. Maybe they’d met at parent orientation last week. “What can I help you with?” she asked, taking a seat behind her desk, and gesturing for him to sit across from her.
Bracing his hands on his hips, he didn’t budge. “You walked my son to his class this morning,” he said, his voice edged with slight irritation. “He dropped his lunchbox, and you picked it up and carried it for him.”
She nodded, flashing her best principal smile—the one that was supposed to exude confidence and put parents at ease. “Yes. Ben. I did walk with him this morning. He’s new here and I wanted to get to know him.”
“You should’ve let him do it alone,” he said in such a way that her spine straightened. “He’s in a wheelchair, but he’s capable. I don’t want him to be defined by his disability here. If you treat him that way, everyone else will, too.”
Sucking in a breath, she suddenly felt like she was a student visiting the principal’s office. “Mr….?”
“Peterson.”
Nodding, she spoke slowly, calmly. This was the first upset parent to walk into her office this year, but he wouldn’t be the last. Talking parents down from their fear-and-worry-ridden ledges was an unwritten part of her job. “Mr. Peterson. I assure you, I was only getting to know your son.”
“And that’s nice of you, Principal Chandler, but don’t treat Ben different from the other students,” he said, his voice as abrasive as the look he was giving her. While he was handsome, she didn’t appreciate what he was insinuating. “I don’t want my son to suffer because he’s in a wheelchair and you feel bad. That’s your weakness, not his.”
“Weakness?” She took a deep breath, then bit the inside of her cheek, focusing her energy there. This parent was doing more than insinuating; he wanted a fight, and she wasn’t going to give it to him. That was his weakness, not hers. “Your son didn’t seem to mind that I was walking with him this morning.”
“Of course not. But walking with the principal doesn’t exactly help him make friends, does it?”
Seriously? It was hard for parents to let go. She got that. Harder for some than others, but this dad needed to back off.
“I understand what you’re saying, Mr. Peterson,” she said, continuing to keep her calm, cool demeanor, “but I assure you that I did not treat your son any differently than I would any other student on this campus.”
“You walk every child to class?” he asked, obviously biting back his temper.
“If they ask me to, and I have the time, then yes, I do. Especially the new students. It’s easy to get lost if you don’t know our school’s layout.”
“Ask you?” His face was expressionless, but there was a definite emotion firing in those dark eyes of his, and it wasn’t anger, despite his stiff posture. “He asked you to walk him to class?” he clarified.
“And carry his books. He said he didn’t want to risk dropping them again.”
Running a hand through his short, buzz-cut hair, the father surprised her by laughing. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that would’ve put her at ease, though. More of a laugh of someone who was so frustrated, they had no idea what to do. “Figures.” He glanced down as his cellphone rang in his pocket, drawing her attention to his fitted blue jeans.
She’d seen those hips before. And the V-shaped torso opening up to a broad pair of drool-worthy shoulders. Her gaze jumped up, and—oh, damn. She’d also seen those dark brown eyes. For the love of chocolate. Why hadn’t she recognized him immediately? “Micah Peterson?”
He didn’t blink. “Good morning again,” he said, true amusement lacing his voice this time.
A gasp caught in her throat. “I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you. You had on a hat earlier and a different shirt.” As if the hat and clean shirt were a disguise.
“It seems to me you had on a different shirt, too.” He gestured to the fresh blouse she was wearing, free of spray paint unlike this morning’s.
“I’ve learned to always have a spare, just in case. In this profession, it’s necessary…So, Ben is the son you were talking about this morning?” Again, duh. Had her brain overheated from the image of Micah’s lower half?
“Listen, I’m not trying to be a hard-ass,” he said.
Hard ass? Yep. Very hard. Swallowing, she pulled her mind out of the gutter and straightened. She was a professional, she reminded herself. No drooling over the hot, completely irrational parent.
“First day of school nerves. We all have them,” she said. “And you’re just looking out for your son. I respect that.”
“Right.” He nodded as his defensive posture relaxed just a little. “He didn’t have many friends at his old school. And it’s not easy when the other kids are running around and riding their bikes. Ben will never do any of that. To make matters worse, he sometimes puts up a fight about doing the stuff he is capable of.”
Maybe not so irrational. A parent who wanted to do right by their child always squeezed at her heart.
“Don’t worry about Ben, Mr. Peterson. Seaside is a great school, and I’m sure he’ll fit right in.”
His cellphone rang again and this time she averted her gaze to look somewhere less mind-blowing, like at her secretary, Val, who was nosily watching them from her desk. Great.
“I have to get to work.” He offered what appeared to be a genuine smile.
That’s a damn good smile.
“Of course. We’ll see you this afternoon.”
As he started to walk away, her gaze traveled down his tall, lean body. She should’ve recognized that ass immediately when he’d walked into her office. It was unforgettable, really.
Val cleared her throat, cracking a whip at her unruly hormones.
With a sigh, Kat watched the father disappear out of the school’s double doors and pointed at her friend. “I knew I shouldn’t have given you this job, Val. You’re going to be trouble this year.” She shook her head and reached for a stack of to-dos on her desk. Thirty minutes later, her phone rang, breaking the steady progress on paperwork that she rarely got to make.
“Trouble in Miss Hadley’s classroom,” Val said through the speakerphone. “You better get down there quick.”
—
Micah’s phone rang for the hundredth time that morning as he sat in the long line of traffic leading to Camp Leon’s military base. He had a good mind to turn the damn thing off. Glancing at the caller ID before answering, his chest tightened. Yeah, I should’ve turned it off.
“Hey, Jessica. How are you?” He didn’t hide the distaste of her name on his lips, or the fact that he’d rather be doing PT in the desert than talking to his ex.
“I’m good,” she said efficiently. “Listen, I don’t have time for small talk, Micah.”
Of course she didn’t. She never had. “What do you have time for? Other than the Marine Corps?”
She laughed dryly. Once upon a time, that laugh had been an adrenaline shot to his heart. Now, it made his teeth grind together. “I volunteered for another deployment.”
Stars burst behind his vision. “What the hell, Jess? Ben has been looking forward to us driving to Georgia at Christmas. He’ll be devastated.”
“He’ll understand.” There was a dismissive annoyance in her voice.
“I doubt it,” he said, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard that his arms went numb.
“It’s my job, Micah.”
“And what do you expect me to do if I get a mandatory, not a voluntary, order of deployment? What happens to Ben then?” Uncurling his fingers, he watched as the blood rushed back into his hand.
“Your aunt Clara will take care of him. Just like last time. Or you could get out of it somehow.”
“Yeah, how would I do that? Tell my command that I’m pregnant?” he asked.
Silence sizzled between them.
“I never wanted kids. You knew that from the beginning.”
“Yeah.” He pressed the gas as traffic slowly inched forward. “Will you at least call him later and explain the importance of your career yourself?”
She didn’t answer. Right. He’d forgotten what a self-centered ex he had. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant during their five-month “relationship,” they never would’ve gotten married. He’d thought they could make it work, though. Micah had loved her, or thought he did at least. But the Marine Corps always came first with her, just like with his own dad. And he understood that, hadn’t even minded that she’d loved the Corps more than him. But he minded that she loved the Corps more than her own son. Getting married had been a huge mistake. Except for Ben. Ben was the only thing they’d ever done right.
“Fine. I’ll tell him tonight,” he muttered. Then, after a hurried goodbye, he hung up and entered the military base. A short drive later, he parked and was preparing to get out of his Jeep when his phone rang again. With a low growl, he glanced down at his caller ID—he didn’t have the patience for another round with Jessica. He didn’t recognize this number, though. “Hello?”
“Mr. Peterson?” a woman asked, her voice tight. “It’s Kat Chandler. I’m afraid you’re going to have to come back to the school. There’s been an accident with Ben.”