by Dinah McLeod
I closed my eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache press against my temples. I massaged my temple, wishing I'd never picked up the phone. I just had to get a degree in childhood education. Not for the first time, I wondered what I'd been thinking.
"Ms. Johnson? Are you still with me?" he prompted on the other end.
"Um, yes, I'm here. It's just…" How could I explain that while I had the degree, I had no desire to teach? It was a fact I hadn't realized until my fourth year, during the student-teacher phase all Education majors had to suffer through. I'd eeked through the term, but only by the skin of my teeth. At that point though, I refused to let all the scrimping and saving my mother had done to send me and my sister to college be in vain. She hadn't left us much, but she'd ensured that we could both get an education. Giving up felt like saying that the sacrifices she'd made working sixty hours a week meant nothing to me and I couldn't dishonor her memory like that. "I've never had a teaching job and it's been a long time since college," I blurted out. If it had been any other job, I wouldn't have been so quick to disqualify myself, but teaching?
"Yes, so I saw. Everything seems to be in order. Could you come in for an interview tomorrow?"
"Oh, uh, sure. Thank you," I stammered. He'd caught me off guard by waking me, but there was also something about his deep, husky voice that made it hard to stay focused. I couldn't help but wonder what he would look like in person. Of course, he had to be a busy man—I knew that the Pike County School, though it had "high school" in the name was actually all grade levels, starting with kindergarten. Welcome to small town America. He might not even be the one interviewing me.
"Wonderful. I'll see you tomorrow then. Say, eight o'clock?"
"In the morning?" I squeaked.
"Yes, in the morning."
I winced. He must think I was an idiot. "See you then," I chirped, disconnecting the call before he could change his mind.
I had to set two alarms to get up on time the next morning, and even with that, I was still running behind. Story of my life.
"You got time for breakfast?"
"Can't!" I called without regret. "I have an interview, remember?"
"Here, at least take some coffee."
"Dad—"
"I've got it right here. Good luck, honey."
I took the cup from him and hurried out the door. Once again, Dad had offered me his truck and I made a beeline for it. I drove as fast as I dared—cops around here meant business, a lesson I'd learned many times once I'd gotten my license—chugging coffee every time I hit a red light. When I peeled into the parking lot, I was relieved to see that I still had two minutes to make it to the principal's office for our interview. Sure, I'd be a minute or so late, but he would probably be in the middle of something himself, so it would work out.
I ran my fingers through my hair and gave my reflection a quick glance to make sure my mascara hadn't smudged before I began to powerwalk across the parking lot. It wasn't as easy as I'd expected, given that I was in heels. Lucy wouldn't have had a problem with it, but she was more of a girly-girl than I was, too.
Why was the principal's office on the third floor? I wondered as I arrived in front of his office, breathing heavily as sweat began to bead on my forehead. And of course this rinky-dink little town had yet to install an elevator.
To my surprise, the door opened immediately in response to my timid knock.
"Ms. Johnson, I presume?" he asked, a wry grin lifting the corners of his mouth.
I was frozen in my tracks and robbed speechless all at once. It was the same smooth, sexy voice from the day before, and oh. He was sex personified, with wavy brown hair that fell just below his ears, dark chocolate brown eyes and a smile that made my panties dampen. Oh.
"Please, come in." If he noticed my love-struck stupor, he didn't show it as he held the door open wide for me to enter. As soon as I'd crossed the threshold, he gestured for me to take a seat.
I did so, primly folding my hands in my lap and crossing my legs, feeling how my thighs trembled beneath my skirt. I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye and my breath hitched in my chest. He was wearing pressed khakis and an Oxford blue shirt that made his eyes seem even more like velvet. When he sat down, looking at me from across his desk, I cocked my head to the side. Something about him looked almost familiar.
"I'm very pleased to meet you, though I have to say, showing up late for an interview doesn't make for a good first impression."
Something about the gentle reproof in his voice made it click into place. "Joshua Black?" I exclaimed, seeing him with fresh eyes. The hair had grown out, sure, and the rest of him had filled out, too—quite nicely, I might add—but the same gorgeous eyes, the same heart-stopping smile.
"I prefer Principal Black, if you don't mind," he replied, giving me an odd look.
I threw my head back and laughed. "You don't recognize me, do you?" For some reason, saying it aloud made me laugh harder. But of course he wouldn't—he was Mr. Popular, Mr. Perfect, Mr. Senior that had no interest in a silly freshman girl hero-worshipping him; particularly when that freshman had been me.
"You said your name was Michelle Johnson?" His brow furrowed slightly as he looked at me. "Wait—it couldn't be Shelly, could it?"
I flushed, partly from the fact he did indeed remember me, and partly because I was remembering some of the silly ploys I'd made for his attention all those years ago. One in particular stuck out: I'd been sick of being ignored, and knowing that the school year was almost out and he'd be moving on to college, I'd dressed up in the most provocative outfit I could buy. Of course, times had changed, but back then a backless, spaghetti-strap dress worn for anything other than Prom got a raised eyebrow from the faculty. I'd worn thin, sexy black stockings and taken special care with my hair and makeup. I'd shaved my legs—and other parts; a girl had to be prepared, after all—painted my nails and even borrowed some of my mom's perfume.
As I'd walked down the hall that morning, catcalls and whistles had followed me everywhere I went. I'd loved the attention—even the lewd looks and suggestive comments. I'd expected the same sort of reaction out of Josh—and indeed, he didn't brush past me that morning. He'd taken one look at me and grabbed my wrist in an iron grip, pulling me down the hallway and under the stairs. My heart had pounded in a mixture of excitement and fear. This was what I'd always thought I wanted, but something about the way he was looking at me had me worried.
"What the hell do you think you're wearing?" he'd asked, his voice calm despite the fire in his eyes.
"A dress," I'd answered, smiling coyly and flipping my hair over my shoulder that I'd curled into big, soft waves.
"No kidding. I wonder if your mom knows what kind of dress you left the house in?"
I flushed hotly and felt a wave of shame mixed with bitter disappointment. "You don't like it?"
He paused for a moment, considering me as tears welled in my eyes. He must have seen them, because he kneeled in front of me and took my hand in his, wiping the lone tear that fell. "Shelly, listen to me. There are a few nice guys in this world, but there are plenty more waiting to take advantage of a sweet girl like you. You come in here wearing a dress like that and guess whose attention you're going to get?"
My face flamed even hotter, more from the fact he was touching me than what he was saying.
"Are you listening to me?"
"Yes, Josh."
"Good. Now, I want you to go to the bathroom and wash all that makeup off and call your mom to bring you some clothes that won't get you mauled in the hallway."
My eyes had widened as his words sank in. I'd snatched my hand from him and backed away. "You can't tell me what to do!" I'd gasped, horrified at the idea of my mom knowing what I'd worn to school.
He'd studied me then, his eyes seeming to peer into the very depths of my soul. When he'd spoken again, his voice still had the same calm, but there was something else I couldn't quite name. "You'll do it, because you're a good girl at heart, S
helly. But if you need any incentive, I could always put you over my knee first."
My eyes had gone even rounder as I contemplated his words. Mutely, I shook my head and Josh stood up, dusting off the knees of his jeans before he left me alone behind the stairs. I sank to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest and feeling very sorry for myself. It looked like I'd done all that work for nothing.
For the first time since school began, I avoided Josh, turning the other way if I ever saw him in the hallway. He didn't seek me out, either, though I was sure he knew I'd obeyed him and called my mom for a change of clothes. I'd been grounded for a week and I'd spent every day trying to hate him. I'd worked so hard and for what? For him to call me a little girl and tell me to change?
But I'd spent too much time loving him for it to dissipate, even as badly as I wanted it to. And out of our conversation, one thing kept coming back to me: he knew my name!
I looked across the desk at a very grownup Josh Black and wondered if he was remembering the incident too. If he was, his face gave no indication; his expression stayed neutrally blank.
"Well, how have you been, Shelly?"
"I go by Michelle now, actually."
He looked me over before giving a nod. "It suits you. You're all grown up."
Why did that sound so wonderfully erotic on his lips? Did he mean it to, or was I just reaching, creating shreds of hope out of thin air like I always used to do in high school? Stay focused, I told myself. You're here for a job interview, not to get stuck on an old crush. You're too old for that stuff. "Thank you. And obviously you stayed here in Pike County and are the new principal."
"Yes. It's a challenging job, I'll admit, especially with school starting in less than six weeks. It seems that I have a few vacancies to fill."
Good job, I patted myself on the back. Now we're back on the track. "And here I was hoping for a cafeteria position," I kidded.
He arched an eyebrow. "Were you now?"
"I look pretty sexy in a hairnet." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back. I was just joking around like I normally would with a friend, but considering our past, it made it feel pointed and awkward.
"I can see that," he said, in a voice so low and seductive that every part of my body flushed. I could feel the heat between my thighs, which made me shift uncomfortably in my chair. "Unfortunately, we don't have any positions open for the cafeteria at the moment. We do, however, need to fill a slot for a kindergarten teacher for this school year."
I tried unsuccessfully to hide my grimace.
"Is that a problem?"
Perhaps it was that I'd been in such a frantic rush this morning and still felt harried, or that I was sitting across from the guy I used to worship, who I'd spent practically all my teenage years fantasizing about, but I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I don't really like children."
For some reason, my admission and the blush that followed made him smirk. "Really? Then why did you apply to a school?"
"I mean, it's not that I don't like children, per-se. Just that they're so loud…and messy…and, well…" I hung my head with a sigh. "I just really need a job."
"I see. Well, I certainly appreciate your honesty."
There it was, the death knell. I'd ruined everything because I never knew how to keep my mouth shut.
"Shall we begin the interview then?"
I raised my head slowly, certain that I must have misheard him. "I'm sorry?"
"The interview, Ms. Johnson?" he prompted, all business once more.
"Um…yes. Please." I did my best to concentrate on the questions he asked me, but my mind kept wandering off every time I allowed myself to look too deeply into those warm brown eyes.
Josh
After Shelly left—I kept telling myself to call her Michelle, but I'd always think of her as Shelly—I sat on the edge of my desk, staring at the door. I had plenty of things to do today, but none of them seemed as interesting as thinking of the cute blond. Although cute didn't quite do her justice. She'd always been cute in high school—a perky freshman with dewy cheeks and bright eyes, who stayed underfoot as much as a lonely puppy. But now? My pants had started to get uncomfortably tight the moment she'd sashayed into the room. Her cheeks had been flushed, her deep blue eyes just as bright as I remembered.
She'd truly come into womanhood and I couldn't help but admire her curvy, hourglass figure. I could tell I'd embarrassed her more than once—perhaps she'd been recalling some of the crazy stunts she'd pulled years ago—but she made me self-conscious in an entirely different way. For some reason, just having her in the same room made my palm itch in a way that I couldn't ignore.
I couldn't help but wonder what her ass would look like underneath the skirt she'd been wearing—a skirt that had been too flowy for me to tell. For some reason, she brought out my stern side. Being late to an interview when she herself admitted she needed the job? Yes, I was sure that she would benefit greatly from a trip over my lap.
I knew that I should keep interviewing. She'd freely admitted to not liking kids, which was an instant disqualifier if ever there was one. I should call her and tell her that no, she didn't get the job, but would she like to go to dinner?
Yet, I had meant it when I told her that I admired her honesty and there was something about her, a certain pluckiness that told me that she could do the job and a shy vulnerability made me want to get to know her better. Perhaps she would like being spanked, being made to answer for her mistakes. I knew it from experience that it was unlikely, but the slim hope was enough to keep me preoccupied for the rest of the day.
Chapter 3
"I got the job!" I squealed excitedly as I burst into the house. I still couldn't believe it. I was on cloud nine and I just had to share my news—and Lucy hadn't picked up when I'd dialed her on my way home.
"You did? Wow, that's great, honey! When do you start?"
"School starts the second week of August."
"Oh, wow. A school teacher, huh?"
I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah. I know."
"What? I wasn't—"
"I'm going to my room."
"I just can't win for losing with you, can I, Shelly?"
I'd turned my back to him, about to go down the hall, but now I whirled to face him. "Michelle! How many times do I have to tell you? Michelle. What, you can remember who won the last dozen horse races, but you can't remember my name?"
He surveyed me in an uneasy silence before he cleared his throat. "I left some things of your mama's in your room. Loo-loo thought you'd like to have 'em."
"Lucy!" I called over my shoulder as I escaped to my room. When I walked into the bedroom I saw the three neatly stacked boxes he'd set near my bed. Just the sight of them made my stomach drop and my good mood fade into thin air. Why did he keep shoving this stuff at me, trying to force me to relive the past? I'd think if anyone could understand my desire not to, it would be him.
Despite my misgivings, I opened the flap of the first box and peered inside. The first thing I saw was a filmy floral scarf. Immediately, I could see my mother the last time she'd worn it. I'd been sixteen and she'd just caught me sneaking in the house.
"I'm tired of you always being on my case!" I'd shouted at her. I'd wanted her to get angry for a change, I'd wanted her to yell, but she looked back at me as calm and stoic as ever. "You're the worst mother ever!" I'd hurled the words at her, digging the knife in deeper. Though I knew it must have hurt, she didn't react. My stomach was churning with remorse; I wanted nothing more than to throw my arms around her and apologize, but my lips froze and the words refused to come. I'd run to my room after that, crying into my pillow and hating myself.
I hurriedly closed the flap and began to haul the box to my closet. I threw open the door and piled them in one after the other, hiding them behind the suitcase and duffle I'd brought with me. Out of sight, out of mind. At least, I desperately hoped that would be the case.
Even after I
'd closed my closet door, the air was still heavy with the scent of her perfume. It made me ache with nostalgia until I couldn't take it another second.
My dad was back on the couch watching a football game.
"I'm going out!" I said, which had become synonymous for I'm taking the truck.
"Already? But you just got here. Do you know when you'll be back?"
"Don't wait up," I replied, smirking to myself. It was what I used to tell my mom all the time, which he'd know if he'd been around.
I didn't know where I was going, just that I had to get away. I drove aimlessly for a while before I realized I was going in circles. When my stomach rumbled and I realized that I hadn't eaten anything all day, I pulled in to Ms. Daisy's diner. We used to come here all the time, before the divorce. After that…
Like most of the town, it didn't look like it had changed one iota. If the bright yellow paint had been retouched since I'd moved away, I couldn't tell. When I walked in I saw the familiar tattered red booths and inhaled the mouth-watering smells of frying bacon, greasy burgers and even greasier fries. It smelled like Heaven to me.
"Well, look who done finally come to say hello!" Ms. Daisy herself was moving around the corner faster than I could react, pulling me into a bear hug. She was only 5'1 so I had half a foot on her, not that she seemed to notice. "I was wonderin' if you were ever goin' to get around to comin' by."
"Of course, Ms. Daisy. I—"
"Oh, you're busy, I know, I know. All you young'ins are these days. Let me get you a table. You look like you're starvin' to death, child! Hasn't that man been feedin' you, or is he still putting his grocery money on the ponies?" She laughed like it was no big deal, but I flushed in embarrassment. It sucked to have everyone know you came from shitty seed.
"I think I'll just go sit—"
"Well, look who it is!" she exclaimed as the bell above the door tinkled. "Joshua Black! Speaking of folks who never come 'round to see me—"
