Page 19 of Working for the Teacher

“Kane. A word.”

“Yeah.”

“Someone filed a formal concern about you being on campus unsupervised around the students.”

Anger claws up my spine. “I’ve never been unsupervised.”

“Someone said you were. One more complaint and I pull the plug. You understand me?”

“I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Your history does the talking for you. You think the school board cares that you’ve been clean for a few years? And who else in this town is going to give a guy like you a second chance? Dave’s the only one stupid enough to risk it.”

The old rage climbs fast. “I’m here to work. That’s it.”

“Then keep your head down and stay away from the students. And the teachers for that matter.”

“We done here?”

He holds my stare for a long second, then turns and walks off. I stand there until the urge to put my fist through something fades.

My phone buzzes with a text from Charlotte: Ordering pizza since you’re coming over to work tonight. What toppings?

I type back: Pepperoni.

Charlotte: Great. See you at 7.

I shove the phone in my pocket and finish loading the truck. I try to keep myself busy for the next couple of hours, but I keep replaying Reyes’s words. One more complaint. Your history. Who else is going to give you a chance?

I pull into Charlotte’s driveway thirty minutes early, unable to sit with my own thoughts any longer. I knock. No answer. Knock again. Still nothing. I text.

No reply.

The front door is unlocked when I try the knob. I push it open.

“Charlotte?”

Nothing but the sound of running water upstairs. I call out again.

“Charlotte?”

I take the stairs and notice the master bathroom door is open. Through the frosted glass of the shower, I can see her.

Fuck.

She’s naked, head tipped back. Water streaming over her shoulders, her tits, her pussy. My cock hardens so fast it hurts.

She turns and nearly jumps out of her skin when she sees me standing there.

I hold up both hands. “Sorry. I was early. I knocked. Texted you. The door was unlocked. I shouldn’t have…”

I can’t finish the sentence or look away. Water runs down her body in shiny trails. Her thighs press together for half a second and then relax. She makes no move to cover herself.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I know you said we can’t anymore. I respect that. But it had to be said.”

I force myself to turn toward the door.

“Come here,” she says.