I chuckle.
I notice the new guy taking a seat on her other side. Reaching across the bar in front of Penelope, I hold my hand up to him. “August Monroe.” He takes my hand in a firm shake. I toss my thumb toward Bryan. “And that’s Bryan Erikson. You must be the guy who put Penelope in a good mood. It doesn’t happen often,” I wink at Penelope, “so however you landed your client, you need to use that skill more often.”
The guy laughs and relaxes back in his seat. “Kian Hendrix. And I only landed him because Penelope laid the stepping stones. I only cemented them into place.”
My mind zones out after he gives his name.
Hendrix.
The name isn’t uncommon, but Bryan said the new guy Penelope hired was from North Carolina. According to Luna’s introduction into my class, something I made her do before she took her seat that first day, she recently moved from North Carolina. And sure, there’s probably more than one Kian Hendrix in the state of North Carolina, but god dammit to hell, I’d bet my life there isn’t one who works in PR.
Motherfucking hell. What are the fucking odds of meeting the father of the girl, my student no less, who I had spread out on my desk as I ate away at her pussy, tonight, in this bar? The same girl I’d like to fuck into next week and the week after.
Penelope saying my name yanks me back to the moment.
“August is one of the English teachers at Silver Falls High. Luna goes there, right?” She doesn’t wait for Kian to answer. “Maybe August is one of her teachers.”
They both glance at me, waiting for confirmation. I hold Kian’s eyes and answer, “Yes, I do have Luna Hendrix in my class.”
Reed picks that moment to bring Kian and Penelope’s drinks. When Penelope tries to hand over her card to pay for them, Kian beats her to it.
“I was the one buying you a drink, remember?” she protests.
“And I appreciate it,” Kian responds. He takes the card back when Reed hands it to him. “But a man never lets a woman pay.”
“Fine,” she huffs. “But I’m getting the next round behind your back. You came through today, and I want to show my appreciation.”
He takes a swallow of his drink. “This is it for me. Tuesdays are movie night with my wife and daughter.”
“That’s disgustingly sweet,” she remarks, grabbing her drink and spinning on her stool. She gets to her feet. “Pass my phone number on to your wife. I need to have a chat with her to find out how she found a rare man like you, who actually enjoys spending time with his family.”
She saunters off, the tight, black pencil skirt covering her ass twitching as she goes. I hold my hand up, grabbing Reed’s attention for another drink.
“I’m heading out. Charlotte should be home soon. It was nice meeting you, Kian.” Bryan claps me on the back as he gets up from the stool. “Thanks for the advice.”
Bryan leaves and Kian moves from his seat to Penelope’s now empty one.
“How’s my girl doing in class?” he asks. “I know this move was hard on her.”
My drink is set down in front of me, and I grab it, tossing half of it back before I answer Kian’s question.
“She’s doing great.” Except for the fact she turned in a paper with explicit sexual details about her dream of me. I highly doubt her father would want to know that. “On time with all of her work. She has a very creative mind.”
Indeed, she does.
He smiles proudly. “That’s Luna for you. When she was younger, her mother and I would find notebooks all over the house with stories she’d written.”
Something tells me he wouldn’t appreciate the stories she writes now.
“She’s definitely very detailed with her descriptions,” I say vaguely.
He’s quiet for a moment, in which I toss back the rest of my drink. I want another, but I need to have a clear head while talking with Luna’s father.
“You notice any guys hanging around her?”
His question catches me off guard, and I look over at him. His question could be considered innocent enough. Just a man looking after his offspring. But the look in his eyes says otherwise. I know the look. He’s out to protect his daughter and wants to know who she’s been fucking around with.
My silence has him elaborating, and the hard set of his jaw indicates his displeasure of what he’s about to say. “I know it’s inappropriate to ask her teacher. It’s even more inappropriate to tell you she had a mark on her neck this morning. A hickey.” He looks down at his drink, clenching the glass tightly before bringing it to his lips. “A father needs to know the type of boys his daughter is hanging out with.”