Just This Once (The Kings)

With a belly full of the most delicious shrimp scampi I’d ever had, I dipped into the bathroom attached to Whip’s primary bedroom. His room was masculine and held the scent of clean laundry mixed with his cologne.

Despite my teasing, I didn’t really expect to see milk crate end tables and a mattress on the floor, but I definitely did not anticipate seeing how effortlessly put together his home was. Admittedly, the first time I’d been in his home, I hadn’t really taken it in—we’d been too busy tearing our clothes off.

But now that I had the opportunity to really look around, it screamed masculine coziness. In the primary suite, the headboard of his bed was a work of art with its wood grains and elegant lines. It stood as the centerpiece beneath the vaulted ceiling lined with heavy wood beams. Muted tones and carefully chosen textiles created an atmosphere of quiet strength, while the rhythmic creak of a ceiling fan echoed the coastal breeze that filtered through the open windows.

I inwardly groaned at the thought of my own budget linens and haphazardly chosen duvet. It was fine but certainly not curated like Whip’s house appeared to be. While I brushed my teeth, I made a mental note to update my bedding on the off chance Whip and I spent some time at my apartment.

Looking around the gleaming, oversize bathroom vanity, I doubted that was necessary. Going to my place would also mean risking someone seeing his truck and finding out about us—something I was still unwilling to do.

This was supposed to be fun. Casual. I couldn’t let the sexy way his eyes darkened when he saw me derail my entire life.

You can do casual.

I stared at my reflection and fluffed my hair before adjusting my boobs in my top. All I needed to do was focus on having fun, and sex with Whip was a whole lot of fun.

I stopped at the doorway to the bathroom and looked into his room. He’d lit a few candles and pulled back the navy sheets on his bed. Whip was removing his watch and placing it on a tray on his dresser when he turned to me.

My heart stuttered.

Casual. Casual. Casual.

I swallowed hard and offered a sultry smile before closing the space between us.

I looked at the neat rows of empty desks in my classroom, and my eyes filled with tears. I had done it. The kids had lost all interest in school the last few weeks, but we’d limped along and made it to the end of the school year. While my students were in PE, I prepped for one final hour with them as my students.

My classroom was quiet—no scuffing shoes, no scrape of a chair against the linoleum, no raucous laughter interrupting my lesson. My first assignment as a teacher in Outtatowner was officially coming to a close.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Rachel’s voice startled me, and I dipped my head to hide the wave of emotions I was feeling.

I grunted to unclog my throat and swiped under my eyes. “Hey.” I offered her a watery smile, and she kicked off the doorjamb and walked toward me. Her arms wrapped around me and squeezed.

“It’s always a wonder how we make it through, wishing summer would come, and as soon as it does? I immediately miss them.” She squeezed my shoulder and sucked in a breath. “At least the smell is still with us.”

I let my head fall to her shoulder and released a weak laugh. The stench of pubescent teens was ripe, and from April until now, we had practically needed gas masks to survive.

“It really is something. They were driving me bonkers all week, and then today I found myself wishing the clock would slow down.”

“When you see them next year, they’ll be a foot taller.”

An ache pinched in my chest. Hedging my bets, I had put in several applications at schools in the surrounding area, but it was slim pickings given the low turnover in small towns. Worry flashed through my mind. Where will I be next year? “I hope I get the chance to see that.”

Rachel released me from her hug. “Didn’t you hear?” My brows pinched. “It’s official. Jenny Kirk isn’t coming back.”

I searched her face for the truth. “Seriously?”

Her grin expanded. “Seriously. Rumor is that she told Principal Cartwright this morning that she plans to stay home with her kids. Her resignation is official as of today.”

Hope and excitement sparked under my skin. My gaze flitted around my classroom.

Rachel bumped my shoulder as children’s voices grew louder in the hallway. “So maybe don’t pack up the classroom quite so soon.”

I swallowed hard and smiled. “Maybe I won’t.”

“Bro!” Michael Marsh stopped midway through the door and gestured toward the whiteboard where I had written their final assignment. “What’s this?”

I arched an eyebrow. “Bro?”

His sheepish grin nearly made me smile. “Miss Ward.” He tipped his head. “Come on.” His charming smile didn’t work on me, but that didn’t stop him from trying. “An essay? It’s ninth period and practically summer break!”

I glanced at my handwriting on the whiteboard and smiled. “We’ve spent all semester building our classroom community. A part of that is expressing gratitude. Once we finish the assignment, we’ll do one last exit dance party, and you’ll finally be rid of me.”

I winked at Michael, and he grinned. My throat grew tight as I tried to find excitement in the prospect of the school year ending. The students filed in, and I took my position at the head of the classroom. I pressed play for gentle background music to softly flow from the classroom speakers.

“Please take out your gratitude journals and flip to a fresh page.” My eyes roamed over my students, doing my best to commit each one to memory. I pointed at the prompt. “Sit quietly with yourself. Take a deep breath. Close your eyes if that feels good to you.” At this point, nearly every student closed their eyes and relaxed. We had come so far in such a short amount of time. “When was the last time you felt truly peaceful? Who were you with? What were you doing? Take two minutes to let the memory play in your mind like a movie.”

I glanced around. Even Michael’s health-care aide was standing in the back of the room with her eyes closed. I allowed mine to shut. I took a deep breath.

Warmth washed over me as the memory of Whip’s embrace flooded my mind. I had been surprised to discover he was a cuddler. I was not. By nature anything that kept me from moving forward was inherently uncomfortable, but somehow the strength and warmth of his arms around me allowed me to melt into him and just be.

“Now open your eyes and try to capture that moment on your paper.” Dreamy expressions and soft smiles morphed into concentrated furrows as my students followed my instructions. Gratitude journaling had been something that was outside of the curriculum, but I’d woven it into our lessons, and I hoped it had made a significant impact on my students, even if they didn’t continue the practice after this year.

Movement at my doorway caught my attention. Mrs. Kuder scowled at me. I paced toward the door. “Afternoon. Can I help you?”

She gestured toward the rolling cart behind her. “You have a delivery.”

I glanced at the cart. Boxes were stacked on it. “I do?”

“Every classroom is getting a delivery, but there are special instructions that this box goes to you.”

Curiosity piqued, I gestured for her to enter. “Come on in. Thank you.”

She grumbled, undeterred by my friendliness. Apparently she was still salty about me taking over the educational foundation.

Whatever.

She could be mad all she wanted. With my help—and that of the Bluebirds, of course—the foundation had raised more money in a few short months than they had in the last four years combined. Plus, we hadn’t even hosted the carnival yet.

The top box on her cart had the words Miss Ward written in neat, blocky handwriting. I looked at Mrs. Kuder. “Where did these come from?”

The deep wrinkles around her mouth deepened. “The firehouse did a charity drive. Each classroom in the whole school is getting something.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Every kid. Can you believe it?”

My heart flopped over with a splat. Why don’t you let me take care of it? Whip’s words echoed in my mind. Could it be?

I blinked and refocused my attention as my excitement grew. “Thank you.”noveldrama

With a harrumph and a swat of her hand, our grumpy librarian exited the classroom. I took the box marked with my name to my desk. Using scissors, I carefully cut open the tape. On top, there was a white envelope with the word Prim written with the same masculine handwriting.

I looked around and despite a few curious glances, my students were still working on their journaling. I slipped my finger under the seal and pulled a note from inside the envelope.

Prim,

I told you I’d take care of it, and I did. The Outtatowner Emergency Services Department is happy to provide various items to make each student’s summer a little brighter.

You can thank me by meeting me at Trawler’s Cove at 7 p.m. tonight.

The note was unsigned, but I knew exactly who it was from. My face lit up. Beneath the note, on top of the pile of items, were a pair of men’s size 9 Nikes—an exact match to the pair I had attempted to give Robbie.

How in the world had he . . . ?

The gentle trill of my timer went off. My head whipped up, and I stuffed the note into my desk drawer. Several students continued to finish their journaling while others sank back into their chairs.

I stopped the timer and music, glancing at the clock. “Well, class, we have an unexpected development. Before we do our final exit dance party, it seems as though our local fire department has a few parting gifts for us!”

Excited murmurs and titters rolled like a wave through the room. “Robbie, can you meet me at my desk?”

Michael’s health-care aide smiled at me. “Can I help pass things out?”

I grinned. “That would be great. Thank you. I guess . . . organized chaos is the best we can hope for. I’ll be there in one second.”

She nodded and started opening the remaining boxes as Robbie approached my desk.

From the box in front of me, I pulled out the Nikes. His eyes went wide.

“These are for you.”

He didn’t look up from the new shoes. “I . . . I can’t accept a gift from you. My father⁠—”

“These aren’t from me,” I interrupted. “Like I said, the fire department generously donated a few gifts. Every student gets something.”

His fingertips grazed the white leather before he picked up one shoe. “They’re even my size.” When his eyes shot up, I winked at him.

Robbie leaned across my desk, pulling me into a hug. My breath caught in an oof as he squeezed. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

I straightened and squeezed his shoulder. Grabbing the box, I moved to the front to help manage the excitement.

Fire department swag, T-shirts, gift cards—there was truly something for everyone, but somehow Whip had managed to make sure Robbie had been taken care of.

Whip King was full of surprises.

I glanced at the clock. “Oh! The bell is going to ring. Let’s circle up for one last exit dance party.”

Rowdy whoops and hollers rang out, but I didn’t care. I queued up the music we’d selected as a class and let it flow out of my speakers. Kids bounced and danced and circled as we sang along. Several girls from my class walked up to me, offering watery smiles and tight hugs as we said our goodbyes.

For someone who’d gone her whole life never quite feeling part of the group, those twenty-six kids shifted something inside me. I would always miss them, and they would also hold a special place in my heart.

After the last student waved goodbye, I finally broke down and sobbed behind my desk. After school, Rachel found me hiding behind my desk, puffy eyes, snotty nose, and all.

She sank down next to me. “So the Warden has feelings after all.”

I shot her a plain look and wiped at my nose.

“I’m teasing you.” She gently knocked her shoulder into mine. “I always knew there was a softy hiding in there.”

I sniffled. “I never cry at the end of the year. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

She laughed and dabbed the corner of her eyes. “I cry every year, so I can’t tell you.”

I stood, fixing my rumpled blouse and patting away the tears in an attempt to save my makeup.

“A group of us are having drinks and appies to celebrate the last day. Are you in?”

My hand crumpled Whip’s note in my pocket. He had wanted to meet at seven, and a few hits of liquid courage might be the ticket. “I’d love to.”

“I’ll text you the address once we figure it out, but the plan is to only work in our rooms for an hour or so and then head over.”

I smiled at her. “Sounds great.” As she walked toward the door, I stopped her. “Hey, Rach. Have you ever heard of Trawler’s Cove?”

Her eyes sparked with interest. “I have. It’s where local kids go to make out.” She waggled her eyebrows and smirked. “Why? You going there?”

“What? No.” I felt the telltale splotchy heat creep its way up my neck and willed it down. I reached for a plausible excuse. “A couple of kids were talking about it today during small group. I guess my gut was right that they were up to no good.”

Rachel smiled. “Trust that gut. It’s a good one.” She turned back toward her own classroom. “I’ll text you in a bit.” In the hallway, Rachel shot both arms into the air and shouted, “School’s out, baby!”

My laughter rang out, and I hurried to clean my classroom. I needed to run back to my apartment to freshen up if I wanted to meet my colleagues for drinks and still be ready for my secret rendezvous with Whip.