Page 78 of The Headmaster’s Rule

Theo

I’ve never been happier to arrive back in Wetherly Cove than I am on Sunday night. I consider dropping into Eleanor’s house, but it’s late, so I force myself to go home and catch up on some sleep.

By Monday morning, I’m itching to see her. I was right. The weekend was unbearably long. The speakers were dull and unoriginal, and Danny spent half the weekend complaining about bad coffee and crappy hotel breakfasts. Still, that was preferable to the way he kept eying me all weekend, joking that I was like a lovesick teenager.

But, fuck, he’s right. I could hardly pay attention to anything all weekend, checking my phone constantly. I’m surprised I didn’t doodle our names in my damn notebook. And every time I realized how few fucks I gave about the conference, guilt swarmed me. The school spent good money to send me there, but instead of doing my job, I was thinking about her. Her laugh. Her smile. Her taste.

God, her taste.

Danny’s good-natured jabs only made it worse. He certainly wouldn’t think it was funny if he knew what was really going on. No, he’d lose all respect for me and report me to the board.

And he’d be well within his rights.

But I can’t make myself care about any of that when I enter the school grounds knowing I’ll see her soon.

“Good morning, Theodore.” Margaret smiles as I reach the top floor, holding out a steaming coffee. “How was the conference?”

I take the cup, saying something meaningless about it being a valuable contribution to my professional development.

“Excellent.” Margaret’s eyes dance with amusement. “And I see you’re growing a beard.”

I scrub a hand self-consciously over my jaw, thinking about Eleanor. It wasn’t an intentional choice not to shave, but after the husky way she told me she liked it, I haven’t been able to pick up a razor. Does it look as professional as a clean jaw? No. Is that a small price to pay for her gazing at me like she wants to eat me? Hell yes.

I pick up my mail from the tray on Margaret’s desk, shrugging nonchalantly. “Not really.”

Her brows rise, but she says nothing more, and I take the chance to slip into my office before she asks any further questions.

I busy myself opening my mail, checking emails, drinking coffee while staring out to sea restlessly. Then, a few minutes before the faculty meeting is due to start, I glance up as Eleanor knocks on my door. My heart jumps at the sight of her. She’s in a powder-blue dress printed with butterflies, hair pulled up, biting back a smile as she closes my door behind her.

“Good morning, Headmaster Wright. How was the conference?”

I shake my head, not smiling. She’s trying to be professional, as she should be, but two days away from her has made me impatient. I close the distance between us and take her mouth in a hard kiss. Her hands land on my chest, stroking my jacket, fingers tightening on my lapels as I sweep my tongue over hers.

“Fuck the conference,” I rumble, breathless. “Please tell me you’re free tonight?”

She blinks up at me, a little dazed from the kiss, then her eyes clear. She cringes.

“Shit. No. I volunteered for the haunted hallway thing tonight.”

I frown, not sure I understand, and she laughs.

“It’s Halloween.”

Of course it is. Christ, I cannot catch a break.

An amused smile plays on her lips as she strokes my tense jaw. “I’m sorry. I signed up weeks ago, but I’ll make it up to you, if you can wait?”

“I’m not sure I can,” I mutter, checking the time on my watch. Three minutes until the faculty meeting begins. Not nearly enough time to do the things I want to do to her.

She laughs, stepping back from me. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

I blow out an agitated breath, trying to rein myself in. She’s right. We don’t want to do anything that will draw unwanted attention to us. But fuck, it’s getting harder and harder to remember that.

I watch her leave my office, forcing myself to stay behind for a few minutes, shuffling papers needlessly on my desk. Then I head into the conference room, taking my usual seat at the far end of the table. Danny’s already there, raring to go. He settles the staff, launching into the day’s announcements, but my gaze keeps straying to Eleanor. There’s a butterfly barrette in her hair that sparkles in the light, and all I want is to tug it free and run my hands through the silky strands.

Jesus. Focus.

“And that brings us to the last item on my list,” Danny says, dragging my attention back to him. “We have the haunted hallway on the first floor tonight for Halloween. Thanks to all our volunteers who’ve already signed up.”