She looked gorgeous. Her tan pants were tight, not inappropriate but definitely becoming, and showed off her form very well. She wore a long-sleeved white blouse buttoned up to the neck, and her wavy brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
I loved her teacher clothes. They gave a false impression of innocence and purity, like her lips weren’t wrapped around my cock two nights ago when I’d called her at midnight, telling her to open her front door for me.
“I checked out your recent developments with Marek Industries,” my father said. “Hiring local workers in the East with the same pay they would’ve made in the United States. That’s positive change, Tyler.”
I continued watching Christian as I spoke. “And in the meantime, my competitors are paying slave wages in those third-world countries and spending three times less.”
“How much money does a man need?” he shot back.
I glanced over at Easton, her hands on her hips, chatting and smiling with Ms. Meyer.
“There’s always more world to conquer,” I said in a low voice. “Always things I want. There’s never enough money.”
“And that pursuit will take you away from everything that truly matters,” he retorted.
He was always the teacher and never just my father. I faced the field again, barely seeing Christian as I braced myself.
“You still fight that battle,” he went on. “Your conscience knows what’s right, Tyler, but your ego keeps telling you to advance. It’s not about speed. It’s about direction. Clarify your goals.”
“I want everything.” I turned back, shooting him a cocky grin. “Those are my goals.”
“But it’s not about getting what you want.” He shook his head. “It’s about wanting what you get. In the end, is it going to make you happier? Was it worth it?” he asked. “You’ve got a thriving corporation that employs thousands of people worldwide. You’ve got a healthy son, but for some reason you’re not content.”
I gritted my teeth, seeing Christian score a goal, but it didn’t even register, and I didn’t clap.
Why did everyone want to fuck with me?
I managed real estate and relationships, dealt with banks and thousands of workers around the world, and I did a damn good job.
And I had noble intentions for the Senate. It wasn’t some scheme to further my business interests.
I did my best. I managed everything to the best of my ability.
I just wanted more. I didn’t want to have to live up to anyone else’s expectations but my own.
“I just…” I searched for the words. “After all these years, I still feel like… like I haven’t proven anything. I still feel like I’m twenty-two.”
My father loved me, and I always knew that. But I guess, growing up, I resented the teacher in him. The one who couldn’t say “Good job” or “That’s okay; you did your best.” No, the teacher always expected better, and after years of giving up and giving in to mediocrity, because I was afraid to fail him, he’d finally told me off in front of the whole class when I was forced to have him as a professor during my last year in college.
He’d handed me my ass and told me that success is earned and not given. A winner fights for it, and I’d been a loser.
“I know I can do better,” I said, my voice turning thick.
I felt his eyes on me and then his hand on my shoulder. “Which is exactly why you have my vote if you ever get there,” he added.
He turned and walked back to his friends, who’d probably invited him, knowing his grandson was playing today, but then I heard his voice again.
“Tyler, try to remember one thing,” he insisted, and I kept my back to him but listened.
“You can do a couple things and succeed,” he pointed out, “or you can try to do fifteen things and fail at all of them. Clarify your goals. What are you doing? And why are you doing it?”
And then I heard him walk away, leaving me with his rhetorical questions.
He was right. Every ounce of me knew that something had to give, and I’d end up having to let go of something I very much wanted just so everything else in my life didn’t suffer. I was one person with limited hours in a day and too much desire to fill it.
And too many people with their own expectations.
I wanted Marek Industries to grow, because it was something I had built from scratch. I was proud of the work we did, and I could see its effect around the globe in the structures it had built and the people it employed.
I wanted to sit in a Senate seat in Washington, D.C., because I’d read too much and seen too much to trust anyone other than myself. I couldn’t watch the news or read a paper without thinking about what I would’ve done differently.
I wanted my son to smile at me and joke around with me. I wanted to tell him stories about me as a kid, for us to watch football games together, and I wanted to teach him things. I had loved him since the first time I saw him, and I was desperate for him to know that my decisions weren’t his fault. They were mine, and I regretted them.
And I wanted Easton.
I wanted to see her in a beautiful dress across a crowded room, knowing those clothes would be on my bedroom floor later that night.
I wanted some of these things more than others, but I didn’t want to give up any of them.
“Ms. Bradbury!” someone behind me called. “Please have a seat.”
I glanced to my side, my arms still crossed over my chest, and spotted Easton handing a rack of water bottles to one of the coach’s assistants.
She twisted back around, sparing me a quick glance before turning to the small party where my father sat.
“Oh, no, thank you,” she replied to Principal Shaw. “I’m just making the rounds. Helping out…”
She stood not five feet away, but it felt like much closer. I could feel her heat, and my whole body buzzed with awareness of her.
She looked at me again, nodding politely. “Mr. Marek,” she greeted.
I nodded to her, seeing Shaw rise from his chair out of the corner of my eye.
“Ms. Bradbury has been doing wonderful things in her class,” he told everyone. “We were all very hesitant at first, but it’s working phenomenally. Mr. Marek,” he called from behind, “Christian seems to be doing well. You must be pleased.”
I twisted my head, eyeing Easton through my sunglasses but speaking to Shaw. “Yes, I’m very happy with her.” I tried to keep the smirk off my face. “She has a very hands-on approach.”
Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and she glanced at Shaw, looking half nervous and half enraged.
I snorted and focused back on the soccer match, letting my lips curl into a smile. But before I could enjoy that one too much, she retaliated, getting me back.
“And Mr. Marek has graciously accepted an invitation to speak on Career Day,” she announced, sounding unusually cheerful. “I may have dangled a nice lunch to sweeten the deal,” she told Shaw.
What the fuck?
“Well” – he laughed – “we beg, borrow, and bribe around here. Easton’s catching on quickly.”
Yeah, no shit. Career Day?
“Ms. Bradbury,” I cut in, “may I speak to you about Christian’s project, please?”
She nodded, her small smile saying she knew she’d gotten me, and I walked down the sideline with her following behind me.
Stopping just far enough that we were clear of listening ears, I faced the soccer match and spoke to her at my side.
“I meant what I said.” I spoke softly. “I am very happy with you, you know? Especially with the way I woke up the other night.”
I caught her sharp intake of breath and saw her thumbnail go immediately between her teeth. She was trying to hide a smile, and I found it endearing and frustrating. Hiding what was going on between us had an element of excitement and turned out to be great foreplay for later. We were living two different relationships, so it kept things constantly new and unpredictable.