Page 74 of The Headmaster’s Rule

“So, I was thinking,” she begins, twirling her wineglass. Then, shaking her head, she says, “Never mind.”

“Go on.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should talk about work…”

I chuckle, stirring the chili. “I can’t imagine you ever stop thinking about it.”

She gives a sheepish smile. “I guess I am a bit of a workaholic.”

“Me too,” I say, lifting a shoulder. An understatement if there ever was one.

“It’s hard when you love your job, though, right?”

I scratch my chin, considering this. Whether I love my job isn’t really a factor. What matters is the legacy I’ve been given and hope to leave, the duty I have to the school, my father.

“But maybe,” Eleanor says, thinking aloud, “it wouldn’t kill us to do something not work related every now and again.”

“Like this.” I motion to the chili I’m serving, the evening itself, and she nods.

“Exactly.”

I take our food to the oak dining table in front of the bay window by the kitchen, the table I had to clear of papers, spreadsheets, and budgets for this evening. She’s not wrong. I could do with a life outside of work.

Eleanor follows me, gaze sparkling as she settles in at the table. I’ve set it with candles, cutlery, and napkins, because even though I can’t take this gorgeous woman to the restaurant she deserves, I’m doing what I can. She smiles as I light the candles, biting her lip.

“You’re so cute, Theo.”

Warmth blossoms behind my sternum as I meet her gaze over our plates.

“I wanted it to feel special,” I say, voice low. “For you.”

It sounds far more corny than I intend, but I let the words hang. The moment stretches between us, her gaze softening in the candlelight, and I huff a laugh, glancing at the food.

“Though I’m not sure ‘cute’ is exactly what I was going for.”

But the way she looks at me… I’d be cute for her forever if she let me.

She laughs too, the sound musical and pretty as she tucks her hair behind one ear. It’s the most demure action, but as I watch, heat builds in my groin. I can’t take my eyes off that sweet curve where her neck meets her shoulder. I’ve never found shoulders a particularly erotic part of the body, but fuck, every time she brushes her hair back I want to press my lips to her smooth, creamy skin, to do unholy things to her.

I curse myself for being such a damn animal, picking up my spoon. She tucks into her chili, releasing a moan that goes straight to my dick.

Goddammit.

“Like it?” I ask thickly, watching the way her eyes flutter shut for a moment with pleasure.

She nods, swallowing. “Like it? If dessert is this good, I might move in.”

My blood heats, something unnameable swirling behind my ribs, and I take a sip of wine, trying to play it off. “Guess I’d better hope you like the apple pie then.”

“You made dessert, too?”

I soften. “I wanted to spoil you.”

“Why?” she asks quietly, as if she can’t fathom that someone would bother going to the trouble.

“Because you deserve it. You work your ass off on the fundraiser and Safe Harbor, pour yourself into everything at school…” I pause, realizing that sounds like I’m simply paying her overtime with food. “Because I want to.”

She stares at me for a long moment. “That’s so sweet.”