Daddy’s Law by K.C. Crowne

Chapter 11

Ava

Teaching was usually such a joy, but today dragged on for far longer than necessary. It didn’t help that I was dealing with a mild hangover, either.

I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Theo out in the parking lot. Knowing that he’d been there the whole day made me feel like some kind of prisoner.

Still, a small part of me felt bad for leaving Theo outside. I felt guilty, like I left my dog out in the yard or something. But I didn’t want to just accept his being assigned to me, either, because that would mean Dad would win.

He always got to win.

When the final school bell rang, I packed my things, hanging back for a few minutes in case any of my students needed to pop in. I had an open-door policy. If anyone had any questions about homework or just wanted to talk, I made an effort to make sure I had extra time for them. I waited fifteen minutes before locking up the art room, navigating the emptying halls toward the cafeteria and purchasing a couple of the leftover cookies they had for sale.

His truck was pulled up to the curb by the time I got there, Cory already in the backseat. The window was rolled down to allow a nice breeze despite the June heat. Theo leaned against the side of his vehicle, tapping his foot impatiently.

“What took you so long?” he asked.

Looks like we’re back to being grumpy.

I shoved a cookie at him. “Made a quick stop. Thought you’d be hungry.”

“I don’t eat while on the clock.”

I forced a polite smile. “You’re very welcome, Mr. Phillips. You’re right, it was very thoughtful of me to buy you a snack.”

Cory looked up. “Snack?”

I offered him a cookie. “Here.”

“Thanks, Miss Cruise!”

“You’re welcome. It’s nice to know someone hasn’t forgotten their manners.”

Theo rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath, “Thanks.”

“See, was that so hard?”

He moved out of the way and opened the door for me. “Let’s get a move on.”

I gave him a mock salute. “Yes sir.”

I never understood why trucks were designed to be this huge. It seemed like overkill in the big city. The truck’s cab was a good couple of feet off the ground, so I had to grip the handle for support as I hauled myself into my seat. It was a stretch considering I was only five-three and hardly used to being this high off the ground.

A hand took mine and helped steady me as I sat down.

I looked at Theo, praying I didn’t look as stunned as I felt.

His hand was enormous compared to mine, practically enveloping my slim fingers. His palms were rough, and his knuckles were thick. It was a perfectly innocent gesture. At least, that’s what I told myself. He was only trying to help. Probably trying to make sure I didn’t fall and crack my head on the pavement. That was his job, after all.

But the look in his eyes…like he was as startled by the touch as I was.

He pulled away after a few seconds, shutting the door quickly. He rounded the front of the truck and hopped in. “I have to drop Cory off first.”

I nodded. I thought it would be interesting to see where they lived. I got to see my students all the time at school, but I rarely —if ever— got a glimpse of their home life.

We drove for about twenty minutes, entering a decent neighborhood. We were right on the edge of the suburbs, surrounded by manicured lawns and white picket fences, cul-de-sacs, and a nice car in every driveway. We finally arrived in front of a large house with a tiled roof and forest green paint job. A wrap-around porch led to the back, a wicker porch swing swaying gently near the front door.

It was far more beautiful than anything I could have imagined.

Theo twisted around in his seat to look at his son. Cory had fallen asleep during the drive. “Hey, buddy,” he whispered softly.

I listened intently, marveling at how different Theo spoke to Cory versus with me. I couldn’t quite place the sting in my chest. Maybe it was jealousy, though that didn’t make sense.

I am not jealous of an eleven-year-old.

“Time to wake up, buddy.”

Cory stirred. “Huh?”

“We’re home. Go inside and lock the door, alright? I’m going to drop Miss Cruise off and come right back to make you dinner.”

“That’s okay,” the boy said with a yawn. “I can make something for myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mrs. Thompson taught me how to make grilled cheese.”

Theo’s smile faltered, clearly surprised by this new revelation. “No, you’re not using the stove when I’m not home. Mrs. Thompson can come make you something if you’re hungry now.”

Cory sighed. “Ugh, I don’t need a babysitter all the time, Dad.” He got out of the truck and waved at me through the window. “See you tomorrow, Miss Cruise.”

“See you,” I said.

Theo didn’t start driving until he saw Cory safely inside and the neighbor was over. Once the front door was shut, we started off in the direction of my apartment. There was nothing but the sound of traffic and the air rushing over the hood of the truck to fill my ears. We didn’t even have the radio on, which only served to make the trip more uncomfortable.

“He’s a good kid,” I said, feeling the need to say something.

“He is. Growing up way too fast, though.”

I grinned. “Yeah. That’s always the case, isn’t it?”

Theo’s jaw tensed. “I guess. I just…”

I prompted gently. “You just…”

“You asked me before if I’d noticed anything with Cory. Truth is, he doesn’t talk to me very much anymore, so I couldn’t tell you even if I tried.” Theo’s eyes remained on the road ahead, but I could tell they were dark and thoughtful. “I can’t connect with him. I’m worried that if something’s wrong at school, he doesn’t trust me enough to come to me.”

My heart twisted in my chest. It was clear Theo was trying. He was a good father to Cory, just rough around the edges with everyone else. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how sweet that was. He only showed his softer, gentler side to his son. Lord knows I would have loved it if my father treated me the way Theo treated Cory.

Maybe I am jealous of an eleven-year-old.

“Talk to him about art,” I suggested. “You know how much he loves it.”

“I do. And I’m totally supportive. My boy’s got a gift and I couldn’t be prouder.”

“But?”

Theo shrugged. “I’m not…”

I turned in my seat slightly to face him, a light giggle bubbling past my lips. “What is it?”

“Look, we didn’t exactly finger paint in the military. I learned to follow orders, to keep in line. I wasn’t encouraged to think outside the box. Art isn’t something I understand.”

This made a weird amount of sense to me.

Dad always wanted me to abide by the rules when I was growing up. He made me study twice as hard for every test I had. He made me practice the piano three times as long. Everything was a drill; everything had a perfect score to achieve. There was no room for creative thinking or passions, only harsh schedules and step-by-step plans. He tried to chart out every aspect of my life —who my friends were, what college I’d attend, what career I’d eventually follow.

I’d never been more stifled than when being raised by my father. Sometimes it felt like I couldn't breathe. That was why I made such a point to become an art teacher. Not only to give myself that freedom, but to help my students find it as well. And knowing Theo saw things from the other side…

I was strangely sympathetic.

“I could teach you,” I said quietly.

Theo’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Really?”

“I mean, it is what I do. I’ve got a couple of books at home you might like. They aren’t super thick art history books or anything. They’re mostly just pictures, meant for children. But you might learn something, who knows?”

We stopped at a red light, giving him the chance to look at me directly. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I thought perhaps there was a hint of appreciation behind his eyes, but then again, this was the man who had to be reminded to say thank you when I gave him a cookie earlier.

“I guess I could take a look,” he said. And then, under his breath, “Thanks.”

I smiled wide. “You’re welcome.”

* * *

We went through the same process as the night before. I waited out on the steps while Theo walked through my house. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for, and I said as much when he stepped back out onto the porch to give me the all-clear.

“The usual,” he said. “Broken windows, tampered locks. Hidden cameras. Masked men hiding under your bed.”

“Have you ever had to deal with any of it before?”

“A few times. Dealt with a bomb once.”

My eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Turned out to be fake.”

“Could you tell?”

“Yes.”

I squinted at him. “Liar.”

Theo chuckled. It was such a lovely, rare sound. It was certainly a massive improvement over his constant scowling. “Makes for a good story, though.”

“I’ll say.”

“You’re free to go inside now, Miss Cruise.”

“Thank you. Before I do…” I brushed past him, walking straight to my bookshelf above my painting easels. I picked out a thin book with a colorful cover, bright images of paintbrushes and clay and paper cutouts. I returned to the door and handed it to him. “Here. You can borrow it from my personal library.”

“Your personal library? I’ll have to take good care of it.”

“You’d better. I charge a pretty hefty late fee.”

“Can’t you make an exception?” he asked, propping his forearm up against the door frame. He was close. So close.

I nibbled on my bottom lip, relishing the way it pulled his focus. “Do you deserve an exception?”

Theo smirked. “Maybe.”

Oh my God, what is happening right now?

Are we flirting? Is this flirting?

Barely two inches separated us. It would have been so easy to pop up on my toes and press my mouth to his. I wondered what his lips tasted like. I wondered if he’d even let me. The hunger in his dark eyes certainly made it seem possible. Like he wanted me. Could it be true?

I swallowed hard, my breathing shallow. In that moment, I craved to know what his hands felt like on my body, what they’d feel like running through my hair. If he leaned down to kiss me, would it be hard or soft? Would he rush to know the taste of my tongue, or would he savor the moment? The wet heat between my legs bloomed with thoughts of endless possibilities.

“Theo,” I whispered.

The sound of his name seemed to wake him out of his haze. He pulled away and took a huge step back, clearing his throat loudly. “Get inside,” he ordered, back to his usual callous persona. “Lock the door. You’ll be secure for the night.”

Embarrassment hit me like a tsunami.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good night, Miss Cruise.”

I sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. My face burned with humiliation. I slammed the door and locked the deadbolt. I couldn’t believe I was that close to kissing my bodyguard. My constantly hot and then cold bodyguard who was also the father of one of my students. This was getting dangerous, and the crazed stalker who was after my father had nothing to do with it.

What the hell am I doing?