She glanced up at Bridger again, then cleared her throat. “I’m sure…” She glanced back at my resume as though she’d forgotten my name, “Sawyer Galloway.” She drew out the name like it was a bitter taste. “You’ll be a perfect fit.” Her lips curled around her sarcasm like a lover. “Bridger, you seem to have your hands full,” she continued, her gaze boring into me. “What with your dealership, dealing with hiring staff at the school, and…” she looked again at the mate mark on my neck, “extra-curricular activities as they may be.”
Menace stepped from behind me as anger poured through our bond. He laughed, a sound as sharp as a razor. “Seeing as my money funds this institution and I occupy the seat of Director as well, I can make whatever personnel decision I goddamn well please. You’d do well to remember that Ms. Day.” A look of fear crossed her face, then quickly vanished.
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him as I squeezed his hand, my voice stronger than I felt. The woman’s expression made it clear shewould keep an eagle eye on me. He turned to me, and I nodded to him, letting him know I didn’t want him to fight this battle for me.
Leaning down, he gave me a chaste kiss and whispered, “Give ‘em hell, Red,” with a wicked smile on his lips. I watched him leave, my own smile of satisfaction crossing my face. He waved as the door clicked shut. The room felt too large, too empty without him.
“So,” she said, leaning forward. Her curiosity was a trap. “How does one get a man like Bridger Hardin to mark her?”
I took a breath, steadying myself. “You’d have to ask the Goddess about that,” I replied. My pulse raced at the admission. “Seeing as how we’re fated mates.”
“Is that so?” She sat back, feigning surprise. Her smile vanished. “I’d think a man like him would be more selective.”
“I’d be a fool not to have seen Bridger Hardin as the gift he is. But again, we didn’t choose each other,” I said, the words with boldness. I held her gaze, refusing to flinch under her scrutiny. “I’d never question the wisdom of the Goddess.”
Karen’s eyes flicked to the mark on my neck, a sneer in her voice. “You’re very lucky.”
“I’m more than lucky. I hit the mate jackpot.” My voice carried my own sneer.
She thought her dismissal could hurt me. I was a princess. She had no idea the pain I’d endured. The office felt cold as she looked down at my file, avoiding my eyes.
“It’s so interesting. Our Luna, Juliet wasn’t born to the pack either,” she said, her tone turning casual, like she was making small talk. “It’s harder for some people to accept those who aren’t one of us into the pack.” Her meaning hung thick between us.
I bristled at the implication. “If the Goddess chose Bronc’s mate, that should be good enough for everyone,” I replied. My loyalty to Juliet burned fierce and bright.
“Must be nice to feel so confident.” Her voice was sweet poison. “But it’s different here.”
The statement felt like a threat, one I couldn’t ignore.
“Bronc is the Alpha of this pack of which I am now a member. As such, I’d never disrespect my Alpha or my Luna." I met her stare, my anger boiling under the surface. "There’s no doubt everyone is at least respectful to them around here, regardless of how they may feel." I needed this job. But Karen’s certainty that I wouldn’t fit in left me raw. "I promise you, I’ll do my best for these children even if I wasn’t born into this pack,” I said, and I meant every word.
Her eye roll was almost enough for me to walk out. But again, I needed this job. “Yes,” she sighed. “Feelings have to be set aside I guess.”
She smiled, a satisfied smirk that told me she’d always have the last word around here. “Then let’s look at your schedule, shall we?” Her tone was clipped, all business.
The paper she pushed toward me was filled with a map that had boxes and times and room numbers that blurred before my eyes. “Five classes a day,” she said, as though I should be grateful. “Plus a conference period.” Her eyes gleamed with triumph. “And lunch duty.”
The breath caught in my throat. “Lunch duty?”
“For the first week,” she said, dismissing my surprise with a wave of her hand. “To get to know the students.”
I swallowed my anger, my pride, and nodded. “I understand.”
“Good.” Her smile was as icy as her gaze. “I knew you would.”
I left the office with the schedule clutched in my hand, my heart a storm of resentment and determination. The hallways were bustling with children rushing to their classrooms. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as I made my way to my room. My first class started in ten minutes.
The music room vibrated with noise and movement as the first class barreled in, small bodies jostling for the best spots. My heart pounded with the tempo of their footsteps. I called roll, names slipping through my mind like water, faces blurring in thechaos. Their voices ricocheted off the walls, a discordant chorus of excitement and shrill laughter. Ms. Galloway, I introduced myself, the alias a fragile mask. We played clapping games, their energy frantic and wild. I let them loose on small instruments, the sound spilling into the hallways like madness set free.
The children swarmed around me, bright eyes and eager hands reaching for attention. Their questions tumbled over each other. “How long have you been a teacher?” “Are we gonna sing?” “Why does your hair look like that?” I laughed, the sound surprising even myself. The intensity of their curiosity was daunting and thrilling.
“Let’s start with the basics,” I said, trying to herd their energy into something manageable. My own heartbeat matched the frenzy of the room. “Who knows what this is?” I held up a music staff, the symbols as familiar as they were distant.
“Lines!” one child shouted.
“Boring!” another chimed in.
We clapped rhythms, their hands slapping against each other and against desks, the sound sharp and erratic. It felt like I was back in college, lost in a sea of noise and expectations. I showed them treble and bass clefs, and their enthusiasm swelled to a crescendo that shook the walls.
