Renner's Rules

by K. Webster

  “Miss Bowden, keep me posted on his progress. I want him graduating on the honor roll. And I definitely want his future plans laid out in concrete by the end of the school year.” I tip my head and give her another stern look that says this is not up for negotiation.

  She smiles and excuses herself.

  “Am I free to go?” Zane asks.

  “You’re free but stay out of trouble.”

  He flashes me a wide grin. “I can’t promise that at all, Principal Renner.”

  I chuckle as he leaves. My phone starts buzzing again, so I quickly retrieve it to see who’s on my ass knowing full well today is a school day. When I see my friend Mateo’s name, I frown. We were close back in the day, but once I moved back home, we drifted apart. He’s not on Facebook and old-school as hell. The only catching up we get to do is the occasional text. I know he’s been busy with the freight company he’s a partner and investor on in Florida, but honestly, I haven’t kept up much more than that.

  “Hey, man,” I greet when I answer the phone.

  “Renner,” he says, his gravelly voice reverberating through the line. “How’s life treating you?”

  “Same as last time,” I say with a chuckle. “Still the principal at Brown. How’s the wife and the little girl?”

  The line grows quiet for a moment before he speaks. “Valencia died this past summer.”

  I blink rapidly in confusion. When we were overseas, he showed me pictures all the time of his very healthy, very beautiful, very voluptuous wife. “She what?”

  “Breast cancer,” he says, a bitterness in his tone. “We had plenty of time to say our goodbyes, but it’s been hard on our baby girl.”

  I think back to the pictures of his daughter. Dark hair and wide brown eyes like her mother. Fuck, this is shitty and sad. “I’m so sorry. You should have told me. I would’ve come to the funeral, man.”

  He brushes me off. “It’s fine. Valencia was loved and we had a private burial in Puerto Rico. It’s not what I’m calling about.”

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter again, at a loss of what to say.

  “I need a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t agree so fast because it’s a big one,” he says.

  “Te, you saved my life. I’d do anything for you. No matter how much time has passed since we’ve last seen each other or talked. It doesn’t matter. Name it and I’ll help. I owe you.”

  “Fuck,” he grumbles. “It’s my daughter. She’s in trouble.”

  I stand from my desk and start pacing my office. “Is she sick? Hurt?”

  “No, nothing like that.” He sighs. “She’s been getting into trouble a lot at school. Running with a bad crowd this year. Her grief is changing her personality. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m fucking helpless.”

  Kids. That’s something I do know.

  “Does she need someone to talk to?” I ask.

  “More than that.” Another heavy sigh. “I caught her with some drugs and boys in her room. I just know she’s off having sex and shit. I’m afraid some idiot is going to knock her up. All the memories are too hard on her. If she could just get away for a few months and start over, I think I could get my little girl back.”

  “Sex?” I hiss. “She’s what? Like fourteen? I’m so sorry, Te.”

  He chuckles. “No, man. You were always a dick at keeping up with shit. She just turned eighteen over a few months ago. It’s one of the reasons why I worry. Had she gotten picked up somewhere with those drugs on her, she would’ve gone to jail. My girl would have a record.” He curses under his breath. “I feel like an asshole for asking this, but…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can she come up there? You could keep an eye on her and make sure she stays in school. Maybe a change of scenery would be good for her. We’re making some changes at the company—a lot of traveling on my part—and I’ve been inundated with work when she needs me most. Being a principal and all, I thought maybe you could help her.”

  The very idea of having to babysit a teenager has my skin crawling, but she’s not just any teenager. She’s Mateo’s. And I owe him everything.

  “Of course, man,” I say without hesitation. “My house isn’t fancy like yours, though. She’ll have to get used to roughing it.”

  “Still living the lakeside cabin life? I always knew you were a simple motherfucker,” he says, amusement in his tone.

  I don’t tell him the reasons why I have the cabin.

  I need the peace.

  I crave it.

  “Simple house note too,” I retort. “Not all of us live in fancy-ass condos with our own valet service.”

  He laughs. “I like to spend my money.”

  “I like to keep mine.”

  “Thanks, Adam. This means the world to me. If you need me to save your life again, just give me a call,” he jokes. “But seriously, though, thank you. I don’t know how else to help her.”

  “We’ll get her straightened out,” I vow. “I promise.”

  “I knew I could count on you.”

  The weatherman predicts snow, but I don’t need the television to tell me that. I can smell it in the air. There’s a wet, brisk bite to the air, which is why I’m chopping some wood. A couple of years ago, I miscalculated my wood and when I got snowed in, I nearly froze my ass off. I won’t be making that mistake again.

  But despite it being just below thirty degrees today, I’m hot as hell. My shirt drips with sweat and if I didn’t have a teenager on the way, I’d shed it and finish my task. The ax is heavy, but it’s perfect and I keep it sharp just for this task. Some birds caw in the distance as they fly over Lake Newell. I’m just wondering what I’ll make for dinner when I hear a car crunching gravel in the distance.

  Mateo and his daughter.

  Unease skitters through me, but I quickly breathe through it. I deal with teenagers all damn day. I can handle one for extended periods. I’ll lay down the law and she’ll have to obey. Bottom line. For Te, I’ll make sure she stays on the straight and narrow.

  It’s been a few days since he called, but it’s given me time to prepare for a house guest. Mom came over and deep cleaned my cabin while sprinkling in her two cents. She cooked meatloaf, so I didn’t even mind the lecturing about how inappropriate it would be for a student and her principal to share a cabin. I’m extremely professional in all aspects of my career. And after we recently dealt with our own guidance counselor at the high school going to jail for messing with some students, I’ve been extra vigilant.

  An expensive black sedan comes into view, kicking up dust along the way, before pulling in next to my midnight blue Ford F150. Of course Mateo would have a driver bring him from the airport rather than rent a car like a normal human. Money has made him a bit of a diva.

  The car door opens and he steps out. Same guy I remember. A little shorter than me and stockier, but an infectious grin that used to have all the women in the vicinity turning his way. He beams at me before sauntering my way. His black suit is probably more expensive than all of mine combined.

  “Renner,” he greets, bypassing my outstretched hand and going in for a hug.

  I hug my friend. “Bonilla.”

  We pull apart and he pretends to sniff his suit in disgust. “They make showers, man. Use them.”

  I chuckle and shrug. “Where’s the kid?”

  He glances over his shoulder, then frowns at me. “She’s not happy.”

  “I can’t say I blame her. Her dad just pulled her out of her school, moved her to a different state, and is dropping her off to spend the remainder of the school year with her principal so she’ll stay out of trouble. I think it’s safe to say you’re her least favorite person right now.” I rub at the back of my neck, the ever-present tension making its throbbing presence known. “She’s going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to her and I’ll protect her as if she were mine.”

  He lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” The wind whips around us and some
sleet pelts me in the face.

  “Bad weather is rolling in tonight. They say by tomorrow we’ll have snow,” I tell him as I peek at the sky.

  “Which is why I changed my flight back home from tomorrow to two hours from now. I have a meeting Friday afternoon that I can’t miss,” he says with a groan.

  I keep my features impassive, but it irritates me that he’s going to dump his daughter and run. Sure, we’re friends and have been for a long time, but he doesn’t know if I’ve changed in the past sixteen years or so. I’d expected him to stay for dinner and give his daughter time to get acclimated.

  “Elma!” he hollers. When she doesn’t open the door, he curses under his breath before stalking over to the vehicle. He wrenches the door open and gestures at my small cabin with his hand.

  Turning to give them some privacy, I swing my ax into the log I was hacking away at and brush my palms off on the front of my jeans. When I look over my shoulder, I’m confused. For a moment, it’s as though I’m staring right at his wife, Valencia.

  Dark, almost black hair is twisted messily on top of her head. Her face is painted in such a way that her lashes accentuate her wide, deep brown eyes and her lips are stained a pouty red. But what has my attention is her outfit. It’s cold as fuck and she’s dressing like she’s still in Florida. She wears a soft gray open sweater that goes all the way down to her calves. Under the sweater is a tight black V-neck tee that plunges deep, revealing way too much cleavage.

  My dick twitches and I grit my teeth.

  Quickly skimming over this girl’s tits, I’m even more shocked to see her bare belly button and a silver piece of jewelry hanging from it. She wears frayed jean shorts that are ridiculous in this weather. Her boots are the only thing winter-ready and they’re those expensive fuzzy boots all the girls at the school wear. Uggs or some shit. But what looks even more goddamn ridiculous are her black knee-high socks.

  Just an entire outfit of all the wrong clothes.

  Mateo needs to get his head out of his ass.

  At my school, she’d get sent to the office wearing this shit.

  “Adam, this is Karelma. Last time you saw her she was about a year old,” Mateo says, a proud grin on his face.

  She’s texting and chewing her gum, refusing to look up. It grates on my nerves.

  “Nice to meet you,” I rumble. “I hope you brought warmer clothes.”

  At the sound of my voice she lifts her gaze to mine. Her expression changes from bored and irritated to shocked. It’s then I realize she’s probably looking at my scars or how I’m sweaty as hell. I didn’t think out this whole first impression very well.

  “Karelma—” I start, but she interrupts me.

  “It’s Elma.” Her smile is fake before she goes back to texting.

  “Sweetheart, I have to go. Be a good girl for Adam and I’ll call to check on you this weekend.” He holds out his arms for a hug.

  She peels her gaze away from her phone long enough to step into a side hug from her dad. Mateo doesn’t seem bothered by the fact she’s being kind of rude. He simply kisses the top of her head.

  “We’ll be in touch. Take care of my girl,” he says as he hands me her suitcase. His phone rings and before he makes it back to the sedan, he’s barking out orders to someone. I don’t get so much as a wave before he’s gone.

  “Let’s get you inside before you freeze to death,” I mutter.

  She grumbles something about me killing her in my cabin, but I ignore her. I’m used to teenagers mouthing me when I turn away. I focus on not limping even though my leg hurts like a motherfucker with the cold weather heading in. The last thing I need to do is give her any ammunition against me. She’s quiet as I show her my small cabin.

  “I’ll sleep out here and you can take my room,” I tell her as I motion for the only room in the cabin.

  She makes a sound of disgust. “My bedroom back home is bigger than your whole entire house.”

  Ignoring her comment, I take her suitcase to my room and set it on my bed. She stands in the doorway with her lip curled up and her nostrils flaring.

  “I can’t fucking believe he sent me here,” she hisses under her breath.

  I want to get onto her for her language, but I bite my tongue this time. “Make yourself at home. There’s some leftover meatloaf in the fridge for dinner. Just heat it up in the microwave. I’m going to take a shower and then we’ll talk about your class schedule for tomorrow.”

  “Yippee,” she mocks. Her tongue darts out and licks her juicy red lip, causing my dick to jump again.

  Fucking hell.

  This can’t be happening.

  This can’t be happening.

  I stare at Principal Renner from the kitchen when he emerges from his bedroom freshly showered. Somehow, he becomes impossibly hotter. Dad never mentioned Adam was so gorgeous. I’d expected some old, graying man in a brown suit. Not this.

  Not well over six feet of lean muscle and piercing green eyes.

  Not a rugged-faced, ax-wielding lumberjack of a man.

  His wet brown hair has been combed back, but a piece falls over his brow, giving him a boyish look despite being just as old as my dad. The gray Brown High School T-shirt he’s wearing molds against his sculpted body. Principal Renner definitely works out. His jeans are old and worn but somehow look stylish on him. He’s barefoot and my gaze falls to his masculine feet.

  Who knew feet could be sexy?

  “Did you find dinner?” His voice is deep and throaty. It rumbles its way deep inside of me. I’m embarrassed that his voice freaking turns me on.

  “I don’t like meatloaf.” I lift my chin in the air. “Sorry, dude.”

  His jaw clenches and a flash of fire flickers in his eyes. It makes me want to do it again—to see how the greens in his eyes seem to flame with darker hues. “Call me Adam around the house. It’s Principal Renner at school, though.”

  I roll my eyes and text my best friend Rita.

  Me: This fucking bites.

  Rita: I still can’t believe you left me. This is so unfair. Who’s going to party with me?

  And by party, she means me watching her crazy ass so she doesn’t get taken advantage of. More than once she’s gotten high and nearly lost her mind. It’s one reason why I never did any drugs. Someone had to take care of Rita.

  Me: Jason? Last weekend you had no issues ditching me to make out with that asshole.

  Rita: He’s totally an asshole. I should have stayed with you. I miss you.

  “Elma,” Adam barks, making me jump. “Put the phone away.”

  I arch an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s not the time, nor the place.”

  “Okay, Dad,” I mock. All thoughts of him being hot are squashed as irritation flits through me. I start to reply to her when my phone gets pulled from my grip. “Hey!”

  He slides my phone into the pocket of his jeans and I narrow my eyes at him. If he doesn’t think I’ll go after it, he’s crazy. But then he crosses his muscled arms over his sculpted chest and gives me a look that says: try it.

  “Give it back,” I order.

  “Not until you show some respect. We’re two strangers and I’m tasked with taking care of you. The least you can do is talk to me like a normal human.”

  “Do you talk to all your students like this?” I snap.

  “Only the little shits.”

  I gape at him. “I’ll tell my dad.”

  He arches an eyebrow in challenge. It sucks he’s so hot because he’s a total douchebag.

  “He’ll come right back.”

  Something resembling pity softens his features. “He’s not coming back. At least not any time soon.”

  My gut hollows out and I peel my gaze from his. Tears sting at my eyes, but I quickly blink them away. He’s right and I know it. Dad’s always so focused on work. I love him, but once Mom died, he became obsessed with the company he part owns. I’ve practically raised myself since her death.

  “Wh
atever,” I grumble. “I won’t eat.”

  He grunts as he makes his way over to the fridge. I pout with my arms crossed over my chest, ignoring the shiver that runs through me. I was warned it was cold here, but it’s not like I had anything better to pack clothes wise. I’ll be damned, though, if I ask this guy for something warmer to wear. I’m still lost in my thoughts, staring out the window as snowflakes blow around, when I get a whiff of something savory and delicious. My stomach growls.

  “Eat,” he instructs as he sets down a plate on the table.

  I turn to see a slice of meatloaf, some mashed potatoes, and green beans steaming from the plate. My stomach whines again. With an eye roll meant to piss him off, I throw myself down into the chair and try not to look so desperate to eat a home cooked meal. Now that Mom’s gone, I usually fend for myself since Dad always works so late. Cereal. Mac and cheese. Pizza. Mom used to cook the best dinners. Just thinking about her and her nightly meals where she’d flit about the kitchen as though it came natural to her has me once again fighting tears.

  This sucks.

  Leaving Florida.

  Coming to this cold hell.

  Staying with the freaking principal of the high school I’ll be attending.

  It just sucks.

  “My mom makes the best meatloaf,” he tells me as he settles across from me with a piping hot plate of his own. He pushes a can of Coke my way before diving in.

  I pick up the fork that’s on my plate and stab at the meatloaf. One bite later and I’m in heaven. Apparently, I do like meatloaf. The food settles my attitude and I wolf it down greedily. When I finish, I find him staring at me with a brow arched.

  “Hungry?”

  Heat floods my cheeks and I’m suddenly self-conscious. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

  His eyes widen. “What? No. How the hell would you come to that conclusion?” Sincerity flickers in his green eyes and I relax slightly. I’ve got some curves—more than most girls I know—and it makes me constantly worry that people are judging me for it. I’m happy with my breasts and usually my ass. That is, until I’m hunting for jeans and none of them seem to fit my round rear.

  “Can I have my phone back?” I ask, changing the subject.