Chapter Three

Daisy

I chug an expresso and stare at the empty desks in front of me. I can't believe the classroom is an hour away from filling with eight-year-olds. I don't have the energy for this.

There are desks to sanitize, flags to cut, snacks to order, a stack of papers to put stickers on, and a lesson plan on nutrition that I spaced on last night. I never space on things… ever.

My job is my life. I keep a current list of things to do next to me at all times. One on paper and one on my phone just in case the other gets lost. It's the only way to live. Without lists, nothing would get done. I even keep two separate lists. One for home tasks, and the other for work tasks. It's the only thing about my life that's organized and sometimes I think that maybe the list itself is medication for all the discombobulated crazy that rattles through my head nonstop.

A bit of relief washes over me as my friend Lydia steps into the classroom. She still has her bag lodged over her shoulder and the giant water cup she drags with her everywhere hooked to her index finger. I don't get why people are obsessed with these metal mugs the size of water troths, but she swears she's getting more water in. Her hair is tied up in a loose bun and she looks just about as frazzled as I do.

"Dear God, tell me it's Friday."

"I know. Just two more days. How'd your night go last night?"

She huffs out a sigh. "Worked four to eight at the hardware store, went home, ate half a frozen pizza, and passed out in front of the TV. I'm pretty sure that qualifies for the loser Olympics."

"Oh… finally, a sport I can win."

She smiles. "What about you? Still hearing from that weird bounty guy, or he finally leave you alone?"

"Nope, life got stranger. He showed up, demanded he stay, and—"

"Tell me this is the start of some weird porno where he grabs you by the ankles and smacks your ass until you come."

"I don't think most of that sentence is allowed in school, but I love it!"

She grins. "We're not in session yet. We can be filthy."

"Well, it wasn't a filthy, dirty good time. It was a realization that I need to move."

"That bad? Is he weird?"

"Well… let's see. He's been in jail, rides a motorcycle, and he hunts criminals for a living. So, despite all those amazing traits sleeping on my couch last night, I didn't sleep a wink."

"Why did he stay over? I need details. My life is depressingly boring."

I laugh. "Nothing happened. He's—"

A knock lands on the door and I turn toward it slowly, taking in the giant that stands in my doorway. He's showered and changed from last night, wearing tight jeans, a black t-shirt, and his leather cut. The man is undeniably hot, but I can't figure why the hell he's here.

Lydia glances toward me and smirks as though she knows who he is before I introduce her. I'd think a bounty hunter would want to be less conspicuous. There's no denying this dude is someone. A rough someone. A someone who isn't fucking around.

He glances toward Lydia and nods, then walks toward me. "Ms. Fraiser?"

What the hell is this about?

My stomach turns. I wonder if he found Mike. God, I don't want to be wrapped up in this. I can't believe I ever dated him to begin with. Mike was bad news the day we met. We were only in high school, but I thought he was so cool for skipping class and smoking in the bathroom. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson on bad boys, but nope! Here I am, staring down another one like a lioness hunting for dinner.

"Yes?" I narrow my brows.

"I'm here for the performance meetin'. Belle's my daughter."

I blink twice, then stare up at him until my throat is sore and dry. "I'm sorry?"

"My daughter, your student, Belle. I'm here for the meetin'."

I don't know what to say. I think I'm in shock.

Thankfully, Lydia speaks and distracts me from the awkwardness. "We were just talking about you. I teach fourth grade down the hall." She rolls her head to the side. "Then moonlighting at the hardware store, because… teacher's salary and all. I'll let you two get to it." Her frame turns away from him until she's staring at me, winking and mouthing, ‘Oh baby.'

That's not a helpful statement considering my fragile state. I don't need encouragement.

"Yes, come in. Sorry." I don't have any adult size chairs. Parents usually pull up a mini and sit uncomfortably or stand, but that's not going to work in this situation. Country is the size of a buffalo. So... we stand. Well, he stands. I drop behind my desk and fish through my paperwork until I find Belle's file. I already know what it is that I want to talk about, but I need something to organize my thoughts.

"You're a teacher?" Country says, his arms folded over his chest. "Wasn't expecting that. Though, now that you say it, the role fits you perfectly. Kids must love you."

I swallow hard and stare toward him, unsure of what to say. "How did you raise a kid so sweet? Belle is my best student."

He grins. "Good. Why am I here then?"

I roll my eyes. "Really?"

"What?" He shrugs. "That's a reasonable question, right?"

I nod. "Yeah. That's why we're here. You're right." I need to get my head on straight. I glance down at the file in front of me, reminding myself why I sent home the note in the first place. "Well, Belle talks about her feelings a lot." God this conversation is awkward. I mean, it was going to be awkward anyway, but now that I know Country like I do, it's even weirder.

"What about her feelings?"

"Well, she talks about not having a mom. And sometimes during class, when the other kids are talking about the things they do with their mother, she detaches from everyone and refuses to rejoin the group."

Country stares at me blankly and guilt rolls through me like a thunderstorm.

"I'm not saying this because I want you to feel bad. I'm just…" I lean in. "If my students are showing any sign of emotional distress, it's my duty to let their parents know. I mean, you're busy, and it's easy to miss. Maybe you could talk to her and—"

"I'm not good with this stuff. I know she's sad. She plays pretend mom at home."

"What's pretend mom?"

He clears his throat and looks away before turning back again. "It's basically an imaginary friend… but she pretends the friend is her mom."

My heart does a sinking, flopping thing that makes me want to reach out and hug Country, then go find Belle and give her whatever she wants. Hugs, money, gifts, ponies… anything.

"There's no book for this." I shrug. "It's not my intention to tell you this needs fixing. I just wanted you to know. You're a good dad. She talks about you all the time. Well, I didn't know it was you, but… she talks about you a lot."

"Good things?" he says, his tone perking.

"She tells me about the fishing trips and all the fun you guys have making jokes around the pond." My brows raise. "Oh, and she says you make the best spaghetti sauce."

"Well, fishin' and spaghetti sauce aren't cuttin' it. I need to find her a mother." He laughs. "You for hire?"

I glance up at him and throw out an awkward laugh. I know he's joking. Of course, he's joking… but I kind of wish he wasn't. I could go for a ‘hired' mommy position, if daddy comes with the package. That weird moment we had in the living room this morning says he might be interested too.

"Belle is a great kid," I say, reaching out for his hand. I'm alarmed by how big and rough it is. "This is a phase. Eventually, she'll realize that you were everything, and that's enough."

He shakes his head. "Little girls need a woman in their lives. They just do."

"Maybe. What about an aunt or a friend?"

"No extended family to speak of and all my friends are guys." He looks away. "I have the MC and a couple of their wives are helpful, but nothin' regular." He grins. "Which is why you should come to dinner tonight."

I bite the inside of my cheek and glance up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're kidding, right?"

"No." He shakes his head. "Do I look like a joker?"

No, he doesn't.

"Well, it's weird. I mean, Belle is my student."

"So why is that weird?"

I don't know exactly. All I know is that my clit won't stop throbbing, and that feels wrong considering the circumstances.

"You don't have to stay forever, just come to dinner. It would be nice to have the company." He steps forward, moves around my desk, and takes my hand, pulling it up against his chest. "I like you, Ms. Fraiser. Last night, when I was sitting on your couch, all I thought about was busting through your bedroom door and making you feel good. I can say inviting you over is for Belle, but that's only partially true. I want you there too."

My stomach tightens, and a shiver runs down my spine. I've never been looked at like this in my life. I've never been spoken to this directly either. I squeeze my thighs together to quell the urge, but it's not working. My breath quickens, my mouth goes dry, my lips part, and he must pick up on all that because his giant rough hand lands on my cheek and he angles in slowly.

"I'm gonna protect you. Whatever it takes." He leans down and brushes his lips against mine.

As my heart stops, I can feel myself dying. I can't breathe. I'm not even sure my blood is still circulating.

Why do I want this man to pull me in and crush me under his weight? Why do I want him to touch me in ways I've never been touched? Why do I need him?

His big, rough hand lands on my throat and he leans me against the wall behind us. "Come to dinner."

"It's weird. I shouldn't—"

"Ms. Fraiser." The principal clears her throat at my door.

Shit!

I drag in a deep breath and push away from Country's warmth.

"Yes, Ms. Freeman. What can I help you with?"

She glances toward the giant man in leather then back toward me. "I'd like to see you in my office, please." The sentence has barely left her lips before she's turning the corner out of my classroom. I guess by the shade of red on her face she's either embarrassed or angry. Probably both.

"I got you in trouble," Country says, leaning his arm against the wall above me. "I should go apologize and tell her it's my fault. You didn't back yourself against the wall.

What is it with these bad boys I love so much? Ms. Freeman saved me. I should run and thank her, though she probably wouldn't want my thanks at this point. She probably never wants to see me again.

"I think that's the last thing you should do." I brush past him. "I should go take care of this. Class starts in five minutes.

"Okay." His tone is so low that my clit won't stop screaming. "So, what time for dinner?"

I huff out a sigh and stare up at him. We both know I don't have the will right now to say no.

"Five o'clock?" He scrubs his hand down over his beard, and I'm a puddle.

"Okay, but none of this…" I nod toward the wall he just had me pressed against a second ago. "We can't confuse Belle."

He grins and nods. "That's the last thing I want."

I know he means what he says, but still, I have a feeling we're going to fail miserably.