Page 12 of Midnight Lessons

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Right. Thanks, James.”

“Anytime,” he says, settling back in his chair.

I grab a coffee and sink into one of the empty chairs, staring at the stack of ungraded quizzes in front of me.

“You seen this thing doing the rounds about Willow fromThe Bewitched Bakery?” I hear Mike, the English teacher, asking another colleague.

My head whips up, instantly alert at the mention of Willow’s name.

Pete, the Math teacher, frowns. “What thing?”

“Okay, so there’s this bet,” Mike says, keeping his voice low. “About Willow. I guess it’s a joke or something.”

“What do you mean, a bet?” Pete asks as Mike shows him something on his phone.

“There’s a bet on one of the local social pages. The first to bed her, to take her, well,virginity,” he mutters, “wins the pool of money being collected.”

Shock ricochets through me, and my grip tightens around the ceramic mug, my knuckles turning white. Disgust coils in my stomach. The bitter taste in my mouth isn’t from the stale coffee.

Pete grimaces. “That doesn’t sound like a joke.”

His concern seems genuine, but I remind myself to tread carefully. I’m new here and still don’t know my colleagues that well.

Mike laughs. “Small towns, you know? They need their entertainment.”

Pete shakes his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “That kind of talk can get out of hand. Willow shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“Well, if you don’t want her, I’ll take a shot.” Mike smirks. “She may have fake-dated Matthew Crane for years, but she’s as untouched as one of the display cakes in her bakery. I’ve got fifty bucks that say I ice her donut if you know what I mean.”

I barely register theinformation he’s revealed through the rage consuming me.

“Are you for fucking real?” I cut in before I can stop myself, surging to my feet, barely aware as the other teachers turn to stare. Mike’s smirk fades when he sees the look on my face. “Talking about her like she’s some kind of object? You’re supposed to be an educator and mentor, you fucking asshole.”

“Come on, Owen, it’s only a bit of fun,” Mike tries to defend himself.

“Fun?” I grit, incredulous. “There’s nothing fun about degrading someone. How would you feel if people were placing bets on your sister’s sexualhistory, Mike? Or your daughter’s personal life, Pete?”

Pete holds up his hands. “Hey, don’t come at me. I agree with you,” he says, his censorious gaze returning to Mike. “It’s disgusting.”

Pete immediately goes up a notch in my estimation, while Mike remains in the gutter where he belongs.

“Who’s behind it?” I demand, wanting to cause that person extreme physical harm.

Mike shrugs. “No idea. It’s one of those anonymous online betting pools.”

My thoughts are a tornado, swirling with anger and the need to shield Willow from this nonsense. She doesn’t deserve to be the subject of such degrading talk, especially not from a bunch of grown assholes who should know better.

“Grow the fuck up,” I say, fixing Mike with a hard stare. “And keep Willow’s name out of your mouth.”

I toss the rest of my coffee down the sink and leave the lounge. There’s only one place I need to beright now, and it’s nowhere near this fucking clown.

Willow’s face flashes in my mind. Her striking green eyes, her easy smile when she’s knee-deep in flour and frosting. That smile was absent when I visited the bakery three days ago. She was guarded. Remote. Not that I can blame her.

But, sweet Lord, she looked amazing. All womanly curves, emerald eyes, and hair like fire. She still has her heart-shaped face with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She was always beautiful, but now she’s stunning. The thought of getting my hands on all that softness beneath her sugar-dusted apron is enough to raise my dormant cock from its lifelong slumber. Low is the only woman who’s ever been able to get me hard. It’s like she has some crazy voodoo spell on me. My cock may as well have her name tattooed on it.

My protective instincts roar like a beast in my chest at knowing someone has targeted her in such a malicious and personal way. She needs someone in her corner.

Willow might not want my help, but I’ll be damned if I’ll stand by and let this go on any longer. It’s time to set things right.

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