Page 51 of The Headmaster’s Rule

It hurt seeing him yesterday morning. Not only because he acted like nothing happened between us, but just seeing him. Seeing his handsome face, the mouth that kissed me like he was drowning and I was air. He wants this as badly as I do, and even though we can’t have it, part of me wishes he would storm in here and take it anyway, before either of us could think better of it.

There’s a sound in my doorway, and I glance up. I blink in surprise.

It’s him.

As if he heard my silent plea and came running.

If only.

My heart launches into my throat as he knocks softly on the door frame, even though the door is wide open and I’m staring right at him. It’s as if he wants to be doubly sure I’m okay with him being here. And even though it’s a relief to see him, I’m not sure I am okay.

“Come in,” I say, my voice strangled. I clear my throat, rising to place the chairs on the desks, ready for the cleaners. He’s quiet for a long beat, and when I finally gather the courage to look, he’s standing with his hands on his hips, gaze following me.

“I wanted to check you’d secured the caterers for the fundraiser?” he asks, all business.

Of course. What did I think? That he’d come to see me?

Though… confusion swirls through me as I process his words. This is a question that I could have answered in an email. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve already answered it.

“Yes.” I keep my voice steady, trying not to let my gaze fall to the soft curve of his full bottom lip. The one that pushed my mouth open so his tongue could slide over mine.

“Good.” He nods, spine rigid, jaw hard. I let myself steal another look at him, then tear my gaze away as I return to placing chairs on desks.

“And the venue?” he asks at length.

Actually, I have some issues with the venue, though I’m not sure if now is the time to raise them. I glance back at him, and he’s somehow even more tense. I want to cross the room and unbutton that stiff suit jacket of his, smooth my hands down his firm torso, ease the stress from him.

“I don’t think we should go with Ocean Vista,” I blurt.

His brows crash together. “Where else would we have it?”

Crap. I didn’t mean to discuss this now. I’ve never seen him in a less receptive mood.

But he stares at me, waiting for an answer, so I have no choice but to give one. I square my shoulders, reminding myself of why I’m doing all of this. For the kids.

“I think we should have it here, at the school. Ocean Vista is beautiful, but I’m not sure it’s right. It sends the message that we care more about appearances than people.”

His frown somehow deepens even further. “We always have it there.”

So typical of him to defer to tradition. Rules. The way things have always been. I want to roll my eyes.

“I know,” I say, trying to tread carefully. “But… maybe that’s a good reason to do something fresh this year?”

His blue gaze bores into mine, unreadable as always, so I continue.

“Plus, it’s overpriced. We’re trying to raise money, not spend it. And if we host it on campus, families can actually see where their donations are going.”

He scratches absently at his jaw, the quiet rasp of stubble alerting me that he hasn’t shaved again. Desire pools low in my belly as I watch the movement, but I shove it away, trying to focus.

“If we’re asking people to invest in a student-focused, emotional wellbeing initiative, the fundraiser should reflect that. It shouldn’t be some expensive, fancy affair. It’ll be more meaningful this way.”

He drops his hand, brow furrowed, and I sense my chance slipping away.

“The school lawn would be perfect. String lights, event tent, student art… it could feel magical and authentic.”

He blows out a long, weary breath. I wait for the usual pushback, the reasons we can’t do it, why everything I’m suggesting is wrong, but instead, his expression softens.

“Fine.”