of them meet. It would be catastrophic. It would destroy the carefully structured, delicate balance of their lives. And for what? So Thrett could waltz back into her life and screw up everything again, just like the first time?
A little guilt wormed its way into her heart. Okay, a lot. She never imagined she’d be the kind of mother to keep her son from his father, but this… It was too much, too soon. Maybe in time, but for now, Trystin’s happiness and peace of mind were her top priorities. Until she could figure out how to break the news to both of them without causing major trauma to Trystin, she had to keep them apart.
“You know,” she started, racking her brain for a solution, “having a strange dragon lurking in the office might alarm the kids, and it would definitely draw concern from parents.”
Thrett sighed heavily. “Listen, Rylan, I know seeing me was probably a shock to the system, but—”
“This isn’t about you, Thrett,” she lied as she stood. “I’m thinking about what’s best for the kids. And I think I have an even better place for you to use as your home base. Follow me.”
Thrett looked unconvinced and even a little miffed, but he stood slowly, unfolding his long, muscular frame until she had to crane her neck to maintain eye contact. Her nipples tightened in response to just how damn good he looked and she cursed them. Ignoring the betrayal of her body, she held her head high and walked out of the main office without so much as glancing at Ginette. She didn’t need to. She had no doubt in her mind her bestie was grinning from ear to ear.
They didn’t speak as they crossed the campus, Rylan leading him to a small building as far away from the office and Trystin’s classrooms as possible. Turning to him she smiled and held out her hand like she was a game show model.
“You’re joking, right?” Thrett asked as he surveyed the small shed.
“What? It’s perfect,” she lied again and opened the door. A plume of dust billowed out, causing her to sneeze three times in a row.
The tiny shed was packed with old, forgotten landscaping tools, a broken mower, bottles and boxes of what she prayed weren’t toxic chemicals, and a bunch of other junk. Their groundskeeper hadn’t used it in a year, not since she’d sprung for a newer, larger unit set closer to the main building. A single window about the size of Thrett’s head sat high in one wall, allowing a thin stream of diluted light to illuminate the interior. Rylan pulled a string hanging from overhead and a weak incandescent bulb gave a warm glow that was little better than mood lighting.
Thrett stepped inside—or tried to—but he barely fit. Turning to her, he raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
Guilt gnawed at her belly again, but she had no choice except to stay the course. “It’ll be fine once I have the groundskeeper clear out all of this. I’m sure we can scrounge up a spare table and chair too. Besides, I assume you’ll spend most of your time patrolling the school grounds to keep the kids safe, so your accommodations hardly matter. Right?”
His nostrils flared and a muscle in his jaw worked, but he remained silent, glaring at her.
“Sorry,” she said, “but this is the best I can offer you. So, what’ll it be?”
Chapter Four
Thrett’s skin itched as he patrolled the grounds, shoving through a dense swath of shrubbery with satisfying vigor. He couldn’t decide if he was angry or turned on. Definitely restless, so it made sense to start prowling to burn off some of the tension that had built up inside him since first laying eyes on Rylan the day before.
A shed? Seriously? Even with all of the junk out of it, he’d just barely be able to squeeze inside. Quite honestly, it was ridiculous. And an obvious ruse, which brought a smirk to his lips. If she was going to such lengths to keep him as far away from her as possible, it could only mean one thing. She wanted him.
That didn’t hurt his already well-established ego any. Eight years was a long time to carry a torch for someone, and he should know. It was the primary reason—no, the only reason—he’d carried on like a tomcat all these years. Rylan had been a knockout at twenty-one, and after eight long years, he’d thought he was back on his feet. However, seeing