The Daddy Box Set

by Claire Adams

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, in a friendlier tone now.

  “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?” I asked, not ready to end our conversation.

  He shrugged. “I would appreciate any help you can provide to keep things organized. I like to utilize every minute of class to teach and hate looking for documents or searching for a PowerPoint presentation. I may occasionally need your help putting a presentation together, or at least getting your opinion on one.”

  I nodded. “Of course. Sure, I can do that—anything you need,” I said, walking back to my desk and quickly jotting down my cell number.

  He was watching me, I could feel it. I felt the effect of some natural instinct to try my best to look sexy as I smiled and walked back to him, holding out the scrap of paper.

  “This is my number. Feel free to text or call if you need something. I don’t always check email and would hate to show up to class unprepared.”

  He reached out and took the paper, stared at it and then stuffed it into the pocket of his black slacks. I suddenly felt like I made a huge mistake. Did I violate some rule? He seemed a little weirded out.

  “Uh, okay, then. I need to get going,” I stammered, walking back to my desk to collect my things.

  When I turned to leave, he was still standing in the same spot, looking at me. A bolt of heat slammed into me. His steady gaze held me in place. I couldn’t move. I stared back, looking into those green eyes that held so much pain and sorrow. There was a hint of something else I couldn’t quite put my thumb on.

  With a quick shake of my head, I tried to focus. This was not a man who got hot and bothered by his younger assistant. It was probably irritation that I saw. He was irritated with me for being forward and unprofessional.

  “See you tomorrow,” I said, as I walked by him once my legs finally started working again.

  “Yeah, tomorrow,” he said, clearing his throat.

  I dreaded the ride home. The humidity was high today. I hated the humidity but loved Florida. You had to take the good with the bad, I supposed.

  Breaking into my rented house was fairly easy. Maybe a little too easy I thought to myself, realizing my roommate and I should probably be a little more safety conscious. We never locked the kitchen window in the back, assuming nobody would bother going around to the back of the house. That was pretty dumb, I realized.

  I walked through the small two-bedroom house and unlocked the front door, then grabbed my backpack and headed back inside. The backpack landed on the table with a loud thud. I sighed, thinking about my morning and decided to stay in for the rest of the day. I deserved it.

  My gaze went to the picture on the mantle like it always did. There, the smiling face of my beautiful little sister was looking back at me. Staring at the picture of Talia made me want to both scream and cry at the same time. It was so unfair. She should still be here. She should be starting her third year of college. Instead, she was buried in Georgia.

  The tears clouded my vision, and before I knew it, they were streaking down my face. Why I kept that picture there, I didn’t know. Every time I looked at it, I was slapped with a horrible sense of loss, as if I were missing a part of my very soul. The picture was in the same spot it had been for nearly two years. After her death eight months ago, I couldn’t bring myself to move it, and Maria hadn’t touched it either. There was a layer of dust over the glass, dulling Talia’s once bright smile. I couldn’t touch the picture. Every day I promised myself soon. Soon I would be able to dust it and look at the picture and smile. That day hadn’t yet come.

  Taking a deep breath, I turned away and headed for the bathroom to wash my face. I wanted to show Professor Dunlap that I was the best assistant in the school. I couldn’t risk him firing me because I needed that credit to graduate on time. No way could I afford to repeat a semester to make up for the one I had completely blown after Talia’s death.

  Chapter Three

  Ian

  With a coffee in one hand and my book under my arm, I dug in my pocket for the key to my domain. I stopped when I noticed the door to the classroom was already open a crack. It was then I remembered the dean had told me the assistant would have a key in case I had to miss class for any reason. The dean made it very clear that class was never canceled. Either I showed up, or the assistant did.

  I pushed the door open with my foot and froze when I saw her sitting at her desk. It wasn’t in the corner. She had apparently moved it closer to mine. I felt violated. She was too close. My heart started beating fast, and I could feel the anxiety threatening to take over. I fought back the need to shove the desk back into its original place.

  As soon as she left, I would move it. She would get the hint then. This was my space. My things were in the desk. Having her so close felt like an invasion. It had been far too long since I’d shared a space with someone and I had no intention of starting again now. She had to go.

  She looked up and smiled. “Hi,” she said, in a tone a little too cheery for me.

  I nodded in response before putting the book down on my desk that was far more organized than it was when I’d left it yesterday. She had not only moved closer to my desk; she had been all over it, touching and sorting. Taking a sip of the hot, black coffee, and staring at the neat stacks of paper, I studied the situation. Each stack had a post-it on top, indicating what it was.

  She had been busy. I was impressed.

  “You’re early,” I said, not sure what else to say.

  Small talk felt weird, and I was woefully out of practice. Talking to strangers felt awkward, and I generally didn’t know what to say. For so long, every conversation I had ended up being about my dead wife or my precious little girl. I didn’t have any friends, besides my brother Jake. I never went out, and never put myself in a position that required me actual interaction with others. I had become a recluse, and the longer I maintained my social exile, the easier it became.

  When she smiled at me again, something stirred deep within. It felt strange—foreign. Her blue eyes twinkled and squinted a bit, commensurate with the size of her smile. She smiled with her eyes, as well as that beautiful mouth. I took a brief second to appreciate the young woman who was there to make me a better teacher. She was very pretty. I imagine she had a steady stream of men lining up to date her.

  “I am early. I always try to be, plus I still feel terrible for yesterday,” she said, drawing my attention back to her face. My eyes had drifted south. She was wearing a tiny black t-shirt, with a deep V in the front. From my standing view, I managed to catch a glimpse of cleavage, as well as a bright pink bra. It had been a long time since I’d seen one of those.

  “Thank you,” I muttered, trying to remember what I was thanking her for. She was looking at me strangely, and I realized she had probably caught me looking down her shirt like a twelve-year-old boy.

  She stood, pulled the shirt down to cover the exposed ribbon of tanned skin revealed by the snug shirt that had ridden up her slender torso. Her waist was tiny, which was more evident in the low-rise jeans she was wearing. That odd stirring kicked up a notch, nearly putting me into a trance.

  “I have this week’s lesson plans here,” she said, pointing to the neat stacks of paper. “If this system works for you, I’ll come in early on Mondays and get you all set up for the week.”

  “That looks great. It will be very helpful,” I said.

  There was an awkward silence as we stood there, looking at the papers, and then at each other. I wasn’t sure what to say.

  Jennie, my self-proclaimed favorite student, walked up to the assistant. “Hi, I’m Jennie. If you ever need a hand, please let me know. I have way too much time on my hands.” She grinned.

  My assistant smiled and nodded. “Hi, Jennie. I think we’re good for now, but I’ll definitely let you know if we need anything.”

  Jennie beamed and headed for her seat. I held back a laugh as the assistant looked at me, brows raised, asking the silent question, ‘What the hel
l was that?’

  I shrugged my shoulders in response. She was on her own.

  Busying myself with the stack of papers with the ‘Tuesday’ post-it, I felt ridiculous. Anything to keep me from looking at her. I could smell her now, a combination that was fruity and maybe vanilla—something sweet. It smelled delicious, like a tasty treat you would snatch up at a bakery. I wondered if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

  The thought felt like a slap across the face. What the hell was I thinking? It had been a long time since my mind had gone there. My libido had been dormant for so long I thought I would never have sex again. Now, after one look at my young assistant, my body and mind seemed to be shaking off the dust and pulling the cobwebs away. This was wrong on so many levels.

  After giving myself another mental shake, I shifted my thoughts to the lecture I was about to deliver. I checked my watch, looked around the classroom and saw all but a few seats were full. I decided to get started. I shut the door, glanced over at the woman who was wreaking havoc on me and then at the paper in my hands.

  Focus!

  A switch flipped in my brain, and suddenly all of my attention went to the ocean. This first week would be slow, but I had to cover the basics of marine science before we could get into the meat and potatoes of the introductory class.

  Once again, class flew by. I found myself falling into old routines and habits. I loved talking about marine life. It was a subject I could talk about for weeks. Once the class was over and the students gone, I looked around the empty classroom, making sure no one had left anything behind. I knew it wasn’t my responsibility to pick up after them, but it was something I had always done. It was a courtesy, one my students typically appreciated.

  “You’re still here?” I asked from the back of the room, noticing the assistant still seated.

  She nodded. “Yeah, just for a minute. I want to finish this up real quick.”

  Walking towards her, I was curious as to what she was doing. I hadn’t asked for anything.

  When I reached her desk, I could see she was making notes on a yellow pad. It looked like math—calculus maybe. I watched her write, her head was tilted slightly to the side, and her long blonde hair had fallen over a cheek. She must have felt me watching and looked up to question me with her eyes.

  “What’s up?” she asked, in a casual way, putting her pen down and pushing her hair behind one of her perfectly sculpted ears.

  I looked pointedly at the paper. “Calculus?”

  She quickly shoved the yellow pad of paper in her backpack, “I’m sorry. I promise I was paying attention to you as well. I figured I could work on this while you lectured. I won’t do it anymore if you don’t want me to. Is there something you needed?” she asked.

  “No. I was, uh, I, uh, class is over,” I managed to get out. I felt like an idiot and knew I sounded like one. She managed to get me tongue twisted every time.

  “Yes, I know,” she said, giving me an odd look. “I just wanted to finish those while I was in math mode,” she joked.

  I didn’t smile. Instead, I just stared. She busied herself by stuffing her things in her backpack. I debated over saying something—anything, but didn’t know what it would be.

  I stepped away and took a seat at my desk, waiting for her to leave. I was ready to be alone. An hour in a classroom filled with people was enough for me. I needed time to mentally prepare for the next round of students. I was still reintegrating into society, and needed it in bite-size bits.

  A few years ago, I would have gone for a run to release the anxiety. If I tried to do that now, I would probably drop dread dead from a heart attack. My therapist had told me I had PTSD. No, I hadn’t been to war or actually witnessed anything horrible, but the sudden death of my child and wife apparently qualified.

  “I know you don’t have another class for an hour; would you like to grab a cup of coffee?” she asked, standing at the corner of my desk.

  The invitation startled me. People didn’t ask me to get coffee. I was so used to people bringing me casseroles and what I had learned to refer to as sympathy food, a real invitation took me by surprise.

  “What?”

  “I was wondering if you wanted to get some coffee?” she asked again, this time a little hesitant.

  “No, uh, thanks,” I said, cutting her off. “I need to go over some things before my next class.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I nodded, but didn’t look at her.

  She paused at the door. “Did you need me to bring you anything back? Sandwich? Soda? Maybe a bottle of water?”

  “No,” I blurted out, not wanting her to come back.

  “Okay, then,” she mumbled under her breath, holding her hands up in surrender.

  She spun around and walked out the door. I watched as she left, mesmerized by the view of her ass. I was reclusive—not dead. I still knew a beautiful woman when I saw one.

  Once she left, I walked to the door, closed and locked it, relishing the silence. Alone, again. It was what I was used to. My classroom doubled as my office. If I stuck around another semester or maybe a year, I would probably get an office, but for now, this was it. It was where I could find a little peace and quiet on a campus that was always buzzing. Students were everywhere. I was constantly bumping shoulders or exposed to some serious public displays of affection. It was too much.

  A thought occurred to me, and I pulled out my schedule, checking to see if the girl was in all of my classes. What was her name? Tess? Yes, Tess. Would she be in all nine of my classes or was it a select few? The calendar showed she would be in one class a day, except two on Tuesdays. So she would be back in an hour. I was a little bummed she wouldn’t be in every class but should have known better. She was a student. She had a full class load herself and couldn’t possibly be that available.

  I took a deep breath before calling Jake.

  “Did you quit already?” my brother answered.

  “No, but I need help,” I blurted out.

  Jake suddenly got serious. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I’m completely lacking in social skills. You have to teach me how you talk to anybody and everybody you meet,” I begged Jake.

  Jake laughed. “It’s about time you asked. You’ve always been a bit socially awkward. I’ll help you man. We’ll get you all fixed up,” he joked.

  “Good. I have to go. My next class starts soon. Later,” I said, feeling better already. Jake was a smooth-talking lawyer who could charm anyone. He would have some excellent tips.

  If I was going to be back in the land of the living, I needed to act like it. I would accept her invitation if she asked again, like after the next class. I would ask her about the weather or what her major was. Things that normal people chatted about when they were standing in line to get their favorite coffee. I could be normal. It had once been very easy for me. I was just a little rusty, but I was sure that natural charm and the ability to talk to others was a genetic trait. I used to have it. It couldn’t be completely lost.

  Chapter Four

  Tessa

  Walking across the lawn of the small campus, my thoughts were consumed by Professor Dunlap’s response to my invitation for coffee. It was coffee, not a weekend in the Bahamas. You would have thought I’d hit him with a two-by-four before demanding he marry me. The dude needed to lighten up. In fact, every time I spoke to him, he gave me this look. It was a look of horror mixed with disgust.

  I wasn’t conceited where my appearance was concerned, but I knew I wasn’t an ogre, either. He struggled to meet my eyes and if he got within ten feet of me, he got this look similar to that of a deer caught in the headlights. I grin, remembering that I’d caught him looking down my shirt. He was human after all. My invitation to coffee had been an olive branch. I wasn’t sure if he was still irritated over my being late the first day, and had hoped to visit a little and smooth things out. That apparently wasn’t going
to happen.

  There was no way I was going to spend the entire year working for him if he wouldn’t talk to me. We would be seeing each other every damn day. He could learn some manners and treat me with some sort of respect. I wasn’t asking for accolades or for him to lavish gifts on me, but come on. How hard would it be to smile or say hello without me dragging it out of him?

  I was dreading going back in there now. Tuesdays were a long day for me, I had to do two of his classes and three of my own. It left little time for homework, which was why I was trying to sneak in that last bit of calculus. It wasn’t like I needed to hear his lecture. I had already taken the beginning class. I was there to help—not learn.

  Frustrated, I made a growling sound, earning a few strange looks from students walking by. I needed to get out more. After seeing the professor and what he had become, I wanted to make damn sure that didn’t happen to me. Life was short—we both knew that. We had a choice to make, and I was going to enjoy life as much as I could.

  After Talia’s death, I too had withdrawn. I stopped going out. I hadn’t been on a date or even out to dinner with friends. It was as if I couldn’t stand the idea of living in a world where my sister wasn’t. Interacting with the professor had been an eye-opener. I would end up being him if I didn’t get my shit together, and I didn’t want to be a lonely, bitter woman at his age. Not that he was old, but he was missing out on what should have been the prime of his life. No way was I going to do the same.

  Reaching into my back pocket to pull out my phone, I quickly unlocked it with a practiced thumb and pulled up Maria’s number. Yes, I was going to actually call instead of text. I smiled as I imagined what Maria’s expression would be when she recognized my number.

  “Hey,” I said when Maria answered.

  “Tessa?” she asked, sounding confused.

  I laughed. “Duh. Did you forget me already? It’s only been an hour since I saw you last.”