“I’m sorry. I should’ve gotten you a better gift,” I growl, pulling my fingers through my hair.
Her head shakes against me. “No. Uh—” She inhales a deep breath, pulling back. Bunching up her sweatshirt sleeves, she rubs the cloth under her eyes. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Her confession brings some comfort. “I didn’t know what to get you.”
Taryn’s lips tilt upward as I reach for her hand, interlacing our fingers. Her touch shoots liquid fire up my arms and straight to my cock, and I start to think about all the ways I could make her look at me like that again, with big eyes sparking with contentment—like I just handed her the entire world under a canopy of hanging lights.
I walk her over, and she sits on the blanket as I go to the truck, pull out the boxed cake in the cooler, and set it in front of her. Then I grab the lighter and light the candles around the perimeter of the blanket before dishing out a few pieces of cakeonto our plates. We sit on the blanket, diving into the fluffy pillow of perfection.
She hums, and I feel the sound deep in my bones. “Holy shit,” she chews. “Adelaide has magic hands. This is the best cake I’ve ever had.”
As I place the fork in my mouth, I lick off the frosting, noticing her eyes follow the movement of my tongue. Even before Adelaide took over The Honey Hut, we always bought our cakes from her grandmother. Adelaide definitely has a talent of her own. It might even rival her grandmother’s.
“Did Tristan tell you what he did today?” I ask her.
She pauses mid-chew. “No.”
Her face scrunches in worry, and I laugh. “He got in trouble because he put a snake he found on a girl in his class.”
Her eyes widen. “No, he didn’t,” she says through chuckles.
I nod, but the expression that crosses her features next is concerning. “What?”
“It’s times like this when I miss teaching. Sometimes, the things kids do can be so—unexpected.” A sad smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “They always kept me on my toes.” The flames from the candles flicker, the yellow glow licking her skin. “One time, before I secured the first-grade position in Arizona, I was subbing for this seventh-grade English class. When I pulled the chair out from my desk, luckily, I looked down.” She stifles a laugh. “A student glued tacks to the cushion.”
My eyes narrow. What the hell? Why is that funny?
“That’s fucking horrible.” However, I feel like I can’t say much since my friends and I regularly played pranks and sometimes took things a little too far. But not to that extent.
That’s just psychotic.
And if Taryn was my teacher when I was in school.
Fuck. I would’ve been so distracted.
Maybe I would’ve tried to get her attention, too, now that I’m thinking about it.
She shrugs, the grin on her lips adding a wave of heat that licks up my arms. “Yeah. But I’ve found that in situations like that, all they’re looking for is a reaction. So, I didn’t give them one—whoever it was. While they read the book they were reading as a class, I just stood.”
“Did you tell someone?” I lean back against my hands, placing my empty plate on the blanket.
“Afterward, I did. As painful as it would’ve been if I had sat down, I don’t know—” She weighs her words. “It felt powerful to maintain my composure. I was twenty-one then, so the fact that I could hold it together in a situation like that made me realize I might be cut out for teaching. It’s hard work, but it’s gratifying to recognize the kind of example you can set and how many young minds you can influence.”
And there it is.
That is the exact reason she is so perfect for us.
Perfect for Elena and Tristan.
But my gut is filled with guilt because, at this moment, I don’t think I can be selfish with her. As much as we need her here, maybe we can make something work. On Monday, I will call Alaric Sinclair, my former principal at Cedar Creek High, and see what I can do to get her a teaching position.
Holding out my hand to her, she hesitantly places her fingers on my palm, and I pull her on top of me, drawing a gasp from her. Her body is draped over mine, and the inferno in my chest rages.
I want to fuck her all the time, but now? I want to kiss the shit out of her. Intertwining her fingers in my hair, she stares down at me amiably.
Why is it that I have a strong urge to give her everything?
I wanted to keep her here because it was what my family needed after Mom disappeared and Dad was taken away.
