Page 31

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

DEAN

I’d fully intended on starting up phone calls in the evening, maybe once or twice a week, with the idea to work up to every night. And as much as I’m starting to long for Clara June, like and adore her, I’m still trying to play it cool.

Or, coolish .

I had planned to wait three days since I saw her last before I’d call her.

If I called her the next night, I’m afraid it would smother her.

After all, Clara June isn’t like a twenty-something single college student.

Clara June has a full-time job that often feels more like two full-time jobs, three kids—two of which go to one school with the third attending another.

She has a house to take care of, meals to make, groceries to buy, bills to pay, schedules to figure out, lessons to teach the boys, special moments to create—the last thing I ever want to be is something on her list.

Three days felt right. Three days felt like the perfect amount of time.

Except on day one, the day after I’d stopped by to see Tanner and found her home, she texted me.

Clara June

I am so sorry to text you at this hour

It was 9:05 pm.

Tanner has been complaining about some pain up around his collarbone, but everything looks okay. I’m not sure if he overdid it in moving around today or if it’s worth taking him into the ER.

I’m asking you because I’m guessing you know more about this injury and how it heals than I do and Tanner really doesn’t want to go to the ER

I called her then and talked her through some exercises she could help him with, which was mainly a chest squeeze.

She put me on speakerphone as she helped Tanner clasp his hands together, one arm reaching behind him, the other reaching back at his hip.

I counted them through Tanner holding said stretch for ten seconds, and after a couple of minutes, he was starting to feel better.

I assured Tanner that he likely overused it, and explained that the last two weeks will turn into four weeks if he keeps overdoing it.

Clara June thanked me for all the help, and for saving them the five hundred dollar co-pay they would incur at the ER.

And I guess that opened the floodgates of texting, because after that night, and for the last two and a half weeks, we’ve been texting daily.

Not sometimes daily, or here and there, but without fail, every single day, we speak, multiple times a day. In fact, within the last few days specifically, we’ve started our days by texting each other “good morning.”

It feels incredible, knowing that when Clara June wakes up, with everything she has going on in her life, that I am part of her first thoughts. I fit somewhere in with the boys and the routine, and knowing that just does shit to me.

This morning, Clara June and I have already exchanged a few messages, but she’s really busy today.

The Bluebell Leader is coming down to Goode’s to interview her about Tanner, and his first game back later this week.

They’re doing an entire piece on him, and while it isn’t their first, it’s the first front page piece.

Welcome Back Tanner, Our Fearless and Young QB .

That’s the article title, and I know this because they contacted me, too.

Only, I already emailed all of my answers.

On top of the interview, she’s working double shifts because one of the other waitresses had an emergency with her childcare.

That means, today, she’s already at Goode’s, there for the opening shift, staying for the closing.

I hate that she has to work so much and so hard, but she never complains.

I also hate that her double shifts and the interview today mean I won’t get to text her off and on all day.

Laying in bed, dragging my hand over my bare chest, I welcome morning by rereading our text messages. Scrolling back, I come to a place where I can’t help but smile.

A few days after the texts about Tanner, Clara June randomly sent me this:

If I end up dead, take this text message to court

MRS SALINGER DID IT

Uh oh

Mrs. Salinger in the garden with the shovel

Bluebell Clue?

For someone who claims to be an old lady, she sure can lift that shovel pretty high above her head

Claiming to be an old lady, huh?

Think we have a Mrs. Doubtfire situation happening?

We very well could

You should have seen her bicep as she was flailing her shovel about

Peach theft?

Yep

I’m at the point now where I’m taking Rawley’s advice

And telling Arch to hide the pits

Worst Mom Ever, I know

Let the record show that I tried to get him to stop for a full year

Wanting to avoid your child getting shovel bludgeoned by a scary granny doesn’t make you a bad mom

If you want me to come kick Mrs. Salinger’s ass, I will

Dentures will fly

Stop

It’s too early for me to laugh this hard

I’ll pee

We don’t want that

Fine, how about you let me help with Mrs. Salinger?

Oh no, I was just venting

Really, it’s okay

What if I find a good solution?

I’ve thought of just about everything. Short of never letting Archie in the yard, I think the only solution is to wait her out

I mean, she can’t live forever

I shouldn’t be laughing at that, but I am

Threatening to beat up an old woman isn’t even what has me smiling as I reread our messages, and it’s not because it’s behind a screen, either.

Rather, it’s how easy this all is. In my truck driving to Oakcreek, on her couch, in the cafeteria—being around her is easy, and we get along well.

Everything she says and does interests me, and I hang on every word she speaks, because every fiber of my being is telling me that Clara June is more to me than Tanner’s mom.

She’s more to me than any other woman has ever been.

I scroll through, finding more messages that make my chest tight and my groin burn.

It’s official

I need to invest on locks for the bedroom doors

Sounds like it’s been an eventful morning

And it’s only ten after seven

Long story short, our pest control man now knows what my naked butt looks like

And not that you didn’t guess but

Archie is the culprit

I kind of assumed

The pest control guy is having the best day of his life

I do have a great ass

But… at the angle in which he saw it

I don’t know how great it looked

And what angle might that have been?

Bent over the bathtub, pulling the drain

I want to crawl out of my skin every time I think about it

Well today’s a first for me

First for what?

For me to be jealous of a pest control man

It’s harmless, a little flirty, light hearted, and easy. The rest of our conversation that day was similar in tone—and later that night, Clara June even called me, and told me the entire story.

The pest control man, who insists on coming at seven in the morning when she’s trying to get everyone ready for the day, always knocks on the door and asks if he can come through the house to get to the garage. Every time he asks, Clara June says no.

This particular morning, she was getting out of the bath when the doorbell rang.

Archie, living his best life, simply opened the door and invited the guy inside.

And before leading the man to the garage door, he ran to Clara June’s room, pushed open both her bedroom door and bathroom door, and pulled back the shower door to reveal Clara June, naked and bent over, pulling the drain to the tub.

She turned and made direct eye contact with the man, who ambled outside and left the bill under the doormat.

It’s not a sexy story by any means, and in truth, when she told me, I did feel bad for her.

Once when I was in my first year of teaching, I was working out in the weight room long after the last bell had rung, and a few other teachers were in there doing the same thing.

I was crouched, talking to one female teacher who left Bluebell High shortly after I started, and I was going on and on about coaching, and how much the football program is going to change.

I couldn’t understand why she was so quiet and standoffish.

After all, attracting women has never been a problem.

Being mentally and emotionally attracted after the physical attraction, however, is always the issue.

After I’d gotten home that night, I stripped down for a shower and realized both my underwear and my shorts had a hole in the exact same spot, and when I was crouching down re racking weights, I was also giving her a nice look at my hairy balls.

I shared that story with Clara June, and though my story was also not sexual, still, it felt kind of dangerous to talk so closely to the one undiscussed thing between us, the physical attraction.

And now, when I should get up to lift weights or pack my lunch or go over today’s history test one last time, I keep my screen on that text conversation about Clara June’s bare, bent over ass, and I reach into my shorts. I don’t dream of fucking Clara June’s brains out.

I mean, I do.

But.

The things that pass through my mind as I pull my hot, heavy cock off my thigh and start to pump are more Clara June-centered.

Burying my face in the split of her ass and eating her until she can’t think straight.

Sliding my hand between those silky thighs and finding her slit, wet and hot, waiting for my fingers. Curving and pumping them until she’s moaning that she can’t take anymore, then forcing her to give me another. And another.

Pressing my cock to her back from behind as I hold her breast, tweak her nipple, and rub her sweet, wet little pussy until she unravels in a sticky, heated mess.

All day, every day, when I’m not teaching or coaching, I’m thinking of how badly I want to make Clara June come. All the ways in which I would make her come. How she sounds when she comes. What she must look like when she comes.

I think about her hands clutching my sheets, her toes curled, her knees to her chest, her mouth open, sweat making her skin dewy and shiny, pert nipples thick and hard, cunt open and dripping, begging to be filled and fucked, bred and left dripping.

I think about Clara June in all the ways, all the positions, all the situations. And all I want to do is make that woman come.

My cock grows rigid as I tug, closing my eyes to envision Clara June bent over in that tub, exposing the back of her thighs and her ass to me.

I’d sneak up behind her, sink my big hands into her narrow waist and tug that ass back to my groin.

I’d grind my hard cock against her as she moaned for it, begging for me to make her come.

And right there in the bathroom, I’d drop to my knees and bury myself in heaven’s gate until she lost her voice from crying for me to stop.

Another few strokes and I’m already there, unloading a week of release all over my chest and belly. It only takes a minute of imagining Clara June’s cunt on my face to make me spill.

After wiping up, I lock my phone and get out of bed, excited for the day. I used to be excited on game days, testing days, and days where the cafeteria was serving pizza because no lie, Bluebell High cafeteria makes some of the best slices.

Today I’m excited to maybe catch a message from Clara June if she has time. I’m excited to think about her all day, to replay our messages and calls in my head when I’m waiting for students to pack up or the guys to get their cleats on.

Equally, I’m excited because today is Tanner’s first day back at school and practice. This Friday is his first game back, and the first step to getting him back on the road to scholarships and a future.

To make things even better, last night, I paid for the hotel rooms for the players and cheerleaders. Knowing that everyone will be off the road after the game a few weeks from now brings me a solace and levity that I can’t explain.

Taking care of the people I care about is all that matters to me.