Page 15 of More, Daddy (Bluebell Bruisers #3)

CHAPTER

NINE

Denae peers into my office for the third time this morning.

She slips in, holding the door ajar with her heeled foot.

“Just wanted to hand deliver this.” There’s a large, thick white envelope in her hand, and she outstretches her arm to pass it to me.

Reaching over my desk, I take the envelope, curious as to why this specific piece of mail couldn’t have been put in my mail cubby like everything else.

“Thanks, Denae.” I click around on my computer, but feel her lingering in the door, and glance back to her. “Did you need me to sign for it or something?”

She shakes her head, peering back over her shoulder toward Leah’s office. She’s inside, on the phone, face screwed up in displeasure only a principal knows. “That’s from the committee, from yesterday.”

I look at the envelope and replace the handset on my phone, willing to call back later. “They’ve already voted?”

She nods. “The vote happens that evening, after the general public leaves.” Surprise lifts her eyebrows for a moment. “Sometimes a revote is required, but my guy on the board, he says it was very quick.”

My interest causes my eyebrow to arch. “Your guy on the board? You have a mole?”

Denae’s shrug is nonchalant but full of pride. “Leah likes knowing how things are gonna go when possible.”

I nod. “Ah, well, thank you.” I take the envelope in my hands but wait for her to leave. She drums the doorframe with her fingers before realizing what I’m doing.

“Ah, okay, well, yeah, just let us know how it went.” Her cheeks grow pink as she moves to close my door, just as the JV cheerleading coach, Cadence Caine, along with junior coaches, Maven Leemont and Briar Matthews, approach her from behind.

Cadence, her white blonde hair in a chunky braid down her back, lashes thick, lips full, doesn’t even look my way. She folds her arms over her breasts–good breasts, from the look of it—and says something sharp to Denae. I know it’s sharp by the way Denae’s frame snaps back slightly, and she winces.

Cadence, so I hear it, is kind of a bitch. But because complaints have never made it up the chain to me, I’ve never had to address it. Leah, on the other hand, has had some attitude talks, from what I understand. Since I don’t have to deal with it or her, I simply do not care.

“Close the door,” I call to Denae, who quietly clicks it shut, earning me a glance from Cadence’s minions, Maven and Briar. They smile and I give her a curt nod, then refocus on the white envelope. Cadence and her minions can complain about whatever they want—that’s Leah’s problem.

Right now, I get to see if my speech made an impact.

I open the letter, careful not to cut myself because I am a firm believer that being stabbed is less irritating than a fucking papercut. My eyes make quick work of the black Times New Roman size ten situation, stopping only when I come to one of the two turns of phrase I’d been looking for.

We’re pleased to inform you, Mr. West Dupont, on behalf of Warriorville County School District, as a liaison for intracounty youth sports advocacy, that a grant has been awarded in your favor.

We have allotted fifty-three thousand dollars annually to the WCSDYSF— Warriorville County School District Youth Sports Fund, which will be used for all Warriorville County Schools annually, to make improvements to existing programs and/or to plan and create future programs.

I stop reading there and dial Leah, even though I can see her from here and she’s on the receiving end of a hissy fit from Cadence, her junior coaches standing by, faces cherry red.

Leah swivels and eyes me through the windows separating our offices. She holds a finger out to Cadence, then picks up the receiver.

“Denae emailed me the letter came. Am I firing you or not?”

I scoff. “You’re giving me a raise.”

“What’d they give?” she asks.

“A little over 50k a year annually for Warriorville County.” Pride fills me. I did that for my students. I did that for my county. I did . “You’re welcome.”

“Goode’s for lunch, I know, I know, I owe you more but that's all I can do today.” She swivels and gives me a thumbs up, to which I roll my eyes and hang up the call.

She returns her focus to her cheerleading conundrum, and I pull my phone from my pocket, and open up Veiled .

DaddysGirl is offline.

She works at a high school. She’s a fucking high school teacher. I stare at the word offline a moment longer, processing that she’s somewhere in Warriorville County right now, doing the same thing that I do.

Well, more or less.

While staring at the screen, a knock comes at the door. It’s… Cadence Caine.

I motion for her to come in, and when she does, she stands in the doorway, an awkward smile curving her full, pink lips.

“Hello,” I start because she’s just fucking standing there. God, this is what happens to gorgeous, perfect looking women. The world has catered to them. They know they no longer have to think or put effort into anything. The effort caters to them.

I paste on a smile, trying my hardest to hide my evil self, as Leah puts it.

“Leah told me that you were successful on your quest,” she says, filing a few stray blonde hairs behind her ear.

“My quest?” Below the desk, my dick has zero reaction to Cadence’s nipples poking through her white sleeveless blouse.

While I’ve been told she can be quite cunty, she’s never been that way to me.

Nonetheless, I have zero reaction to the way she softly sweeps her hands down her thighs, which fill out a tight pencil skirt.

Or the shiny black heels that adorn her feet, and the way she drags the back of one foot up her calf, in what appears to be some subtle cry for attention.

I’m not sure. Don’t care. I glance at my phone but DaddysGirl is still offline.

Her smile evolves into something bigger, more flirtatious.

“The meeting. Leah told me you went to the budget meeting, and you were successful in convincing the school board that Warriorville County needs more money for sports.” She bobs her head in some sort of acceptance of what she’s just said.

“Congratulations, and I guess, thank you, too.”

I dip my head. “Thank you and… well, you’re welcome.”

One more moment of her awkward smile and she ducks out, pulling the door closed behind her. She walks past Leah’s office, which earns me a look from Leah, then leaves through the front doors, her minions tagging along after her.

That was strange.

My desk phone rings. “She came in to say congratulations for the outcome of the meeting,” I say as soon as I pick up the handset. I turn and face Leah through the glass that separates our offices.

“Psh,” Leah says, because I knew it was her and I knew that’s what she was going to ask.

“She thinks because you spoke at the meeting and you’re the athletic director that you’ll be getting to decide where the money goes.

Alone. And she’s hoping if she gets in your pants, cheerleading will benefit. ”

I glare at Leah through the glass separating us. She twirls the old phone cord around her manicured finger. “Did she say that?” I ask.

One shoulder rises and drops. “More or less.”

I roll my eyes. “Well I do get to decide how the money is spent.”

“You must include me, Weston Drew Dupont. ”

I shake my head. “The full name only works if you’re my mother and if it’s my actual name.”

She wrinkles her nose. “West is short for something, isn’t it?”

I shake my head again. “No. Is Leah short for something?”

Her eyes narrow. “Yes. Queen Leah.”

“I gotta go, freshman players are waiting.” I hang up, grab my hat from my desk and nudge it onto my head, then head to the field house, where I spend the next three hours helping stinky, sore teenage boys.

Last night was admittedly a detour from my new plan. My plan to take control of this thing and get what I fucking want, while giving DaddysGirl what she wants too. And not online, but in person, in broad fucking daylight.

Tonight, the plan is back on.

We’d tried taking things slow, and all it’s done is make Daddy very fucking impatient and my impatience is turning into a physical energy I need to dispel.

After a shower, my new routine begins: put food in the microwave, grab a beer, get something going on the TV, and boot up my laptop.

With chicken cacciatore and a Blue Moon waiting, I drag my computer onto my thighs and hold my breath.

DaddysGirl is online.

I don’t let my confidence falter. I take a drink of my beer and get to typing.

Suede0989

I thought about you all night last night and all day today and I realized that moving slowly is only doing a disservice to our connection.

I realize now that you’ve been waiting for your daddy to take charge

To show you what everything will be like once you’re unquestionably my girl.

I reread what I wrote, happy with the assertion and tone, eager—according to the halfie in my cotton sleep pants—to finally turn this into something in the light of day, on the other side of a screen.

DaddysGirl

I’m not disagreeing with you Daddy

I would never

But I had a really lousy day today

And the only thing that I can think of that will make me feel better

Is a picture of my daddy

Showing me just how special he thinks I am, and just how much he wants me

I know we haven’t established rules, Daddy, and we can do that later. But for now, all I want is to see how much you care about me. That’s what will make me feel better, Daddy. That’s the only thing that will make me feel better.

I type out a response, asking specifics about her bad day, then delete it .

I came online tonight with a plan. A plan to take over this thing and to turn it from a thing into everything.