Wilde for You. Dawn Atkins
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he had to do the right thing.
Once inside the building, Tucker found Harvey at the reception desk. Perfect. He’d just get it over with and start fresh.
As an idiot.
“Good to see you, Tucker.” Harvey shook his hand, gripping Tuck’s forearm with his other hand, his eyes warm with affection.
Do it now. Tell him. “I need to clear something up, Harvey.”
“Sure thing, but before I forget, your wife called. What a delightful woman. She said to tell you to feel free to work as late as you want, since she has plenty to do at the house. She knows how dedicated you are.”
“She does?” he said blankly. Anna must have arrived early and called out here to impress Harvey with Tuck’s commitment and her support. Damn, she was good.
“She wanted to know what to bring to the potluck next week.” Harvey smiled. “You’re a lucky man, Tucker. She reminds me of my Nadine. It’s so fortunate that she’ll be in town for the dinner. Sounds like the airline keeps her quite busy.”
“Oh, yes, she’s one busy woman, all right,” he said, blowing out a breath. How could he tell Harvey the truth now? His fake wife had sealed his fate. A misunderstanding was one thing, but a plot with coconspirators? With a sigh, Tuck put his hand into his pocket and slid the ring onto his fourth finger. It felt strange—heavy, like the lie pressing in on his chest—but he’d make the best of it.
“Let’s get you started,” Harvey said. “We’ve got some papers to sign, of course, but I want you to know right off the bat that I’m going to give you free rein here. I’ve been accused of being a micromanager, Tucker, but I’ve turned over a new leaf. The best way to learn this job is to live this job. You’d think after thirty years at it, I’d figure that out. So if you’d keep me posted on your activities—regular updates now—we’ll be fine. I know you won’t let me down.”
And he wouldn’t. He’d do everything he could to justify Harvey’s faith in him. The fake marriage was a glitch, but he’d just think of himself as married to the job, like Anna had said, and that would have to do.
TWO WEEKS LATER, Tucker saved the changes he’d made in the new computerized class schedule, stood and stretched. He wanted to greet the teachers setting up their rooms early and see what he could do to help them. School would start in a week.
He looked around his office—his first as an administrator. He loved it. The room was tiny, his wooden desk shabby and scarred, his chair in danger of collapsing and his computer practically pre-DOS, but he’d filled the shelves with his own books and professional journals, along with the district’s curriculum manuals, hung the walls with motivational posters and artwork, and organized his desk so that the place felt like home.
The brass plaque Ben had given him in high school rested beside his computer. It held a quote from William James: The greatest discovery of my generation is that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitudes of mind. That had been Ben’s message to him. Tucker liked to keep it always in view.
He’d called Ben about the job, who’d expressed his confidence in Tuck and talked about the things he was working on at Western Sun that Tucker would be able to take over once he got back there. The man Ben had hired was definitely retiring in three years. Tucker had a good shot at the job if he did well at Copper Corners. Things were falling into place.
Every day Tuck had been here made him feel surer this was the right step for him. He was already making a difference. He’d upgraded the class schedule software and purchased a school-wide grading program for next to nothing through a promotion he’d researched. And he was planning to add some needed extracurricular activities right away.
Everything was going according to plan, he thought, looking around again. His glance fell on the photo of him with Anna—no, Julie—his wife. Well, everything except that. He angled the photo out of his line of vision. He would keep that low-key, and it shouldn’t matter. Anna would come out to the potluck and then be off on her busy flying schedule.
Grabbing a clipboard to take notes about what the teachers needed, Tucker set off across the quad between the school’s brick buildings to meet the teachers who were here—there were three or four at least.
The air was filled with the fierce rasp of cicadas and the sun baked the top of his head. August in southern Arizona was brutal. Its bright burn seemed to have washed out the green of the paloverde tree trunks. Everything looked dusty and tired of summer.
The heat had the opposite effect on Tucker—it energized him. Surveying the campus gave him a rush of ownership and responsibility. This was his school. He knew every corner of campus now. He’d spent a week assisting Dwayne the custodian move shelves and replace equipment in all the buildings, so that helped, but it was more. He’d absorbed the feel of the place, knew all its classrooms and corridors by heart. Sappy, maybe, but there it was.
When he left in three years, things would be better here than when he’d arrived. Achievement scores and student involvement would rise and teacher satisfaction would soar.
Tucker met the new English teacher first, then visited with a veteran history teacher setting up her class. After that, he headed to Building D, where the English teacher had said the new science teacher was working.
As he walked, he found himself running his thumb over the smooth curve of Forest’s wedding band. He was constantly aware of it—catching the sunlight when he walked, snagging soap when he washed his hands, in sight when he worked at the computer. Wearing it, he felt phony, but safe. Since he’d declared women off-limits, being married was insurance. He did intend to marry one day, so this was a test of how it would be.
Without the woman. Or the love.
Or the sex.
Which was a definite downside. But he could handle it. He’d sublimate his sex drive in work and everyone would benefit.
He entered the D building, which held science, math, computer and art classes, and got a blast of hip-hop music from an open classroom door—his destination, no doubt.
Inside the room, the music was so loud his ears throbbed. He spotted the teacher on a ladder, hammering something to the ceiling. A jungle vine, he could see, made of cloth. A couple dozen dangled around the room, which was also decorated with three papier-mâché trees.
At the back, there was a bank of terrariums, where he made out a couple of snakes and a large lizard…maybe an iguana? The bulletin boards held maps of South America and photos of exotic creatures. The total effect was of a jungle, dense and complex, and full of color.
And a fire code violation.
Then he got a load of the teacher and lost all thought for a second. She wore white shorts, which were pulled tight over her round backside because of her position on the ladder. Below the shorts were great legs—muscles tensed along their shapely length as she hammered away. Nice feet, too, he saw, since she was barefoot. With plump toes, the nails painted fire-engine red.
She hadn’t heard him enter over the pounding music, and now he was close enough to catch her scent. She smelled familiar and sexy…like Melissa. What were the odds of that?
He reminded himself of his purpose here—to offer any help she might need—and called over the music, “Hello?”
“Wha—?” She jerked, then turned, wobbling on the ladder.
Tuck stepped forward and braced her thigh—as firm as it looked—to keep her from tumbling. He looked up at her face and swallowed hard.
Oh, God.
It was Cricket, his college crush, her green eyes round and wide, blond hair in parentheses around her cheeks.
“Tucker! I don’t believe it!” Her face lit with pleasure. She looked down at her leg, where his hand still rested.
He let go fast, rubbing his still-warm palm on his pants.
She