Santa's Sweetheart (The Christmas Tree Ranch #4)(40)
She half feared that he would take her arm or put a hand against her back. He hadn’t touched her since the time he’d laid a hand on her shoulder, but the thought that he might made her want to break and run. She didn’t want a nasty confrontation, but if he crossed a line, she would put him in his place—and possibly put her future job prospects in danger.
“I understand the annual town Christmas party has become a costume ball,” he said.
“That’s right. Although western dress is just an option. Are you about to tell me that you don’t approve?”
“Not at all. I think it’s a dandy idea. Maybe I’ll come as a gambler.”
They passed through the outer office, which was empty, and into the principal’s space. As he reached behind her to close the door, she stopped him. “Please leave that open, if you don’t mind.”
“Are you saying you don’t trust me?”
“I’m saying that I don’t trust anybody who might walk past that door, see it closed, and start spreading gossip—even though there’s nothing worth gossiping about.”
“Very well. Have a seat.” He sounded disappointed, but he left the door partway open. “I just have some news. Since it’s of a personal nature, I’d like to keep it between us.”
Grace mentally measured the number of steps from her seat to the door. “If it’s personal, maybe you shouldn’t be sharing it.”
“I just need to share it with someone, and since you already know about my situation . . . I just became a free man. There are a few legal formalities left, but I’ve found an apartment, and the papers were signed and witnessed last night. It’s done.”
“Should I congratulate you?”
“I was hoping you’d do more, like join me for dinner to celebrate. I know you’re busy tonight, but we can do it another time. Maybe this weekend.”
Grace felt her stomach clench. “I’m sorry, but given our work relationship, I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
“Well, nobody has to know, do they? We can drive to Cottonwood Springs. I know a quiet place that has great prime rib and a decent wine list. So, what do you say?”
“I’m sorry, but my answer has to be no. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Also you’re a troll, and I wouldn’t go to a hot dog eating contest with you. Too bad she couldn’t just tell him that.
“Now that the question is settled, I need to go,” she said, standing.
He sighed and stood with her. “Fine, but I haven’t given up. I have the power to make your life pretty sweet around here. Or I can make it a hell of a lot harder. Think about it. If you change your mind, let me know.”
“I’m going to forget I ever heard that, Mr. Judkins. And now I’ll be on my way. No need to show me out.”
She strode out of the room, down the hall, and out the back exit to the parking lot.
By the time she got her car open, she was shaking so hard that her legs would barely hold her. She sank onto the seat, closed the door, and pressed her hands to her face. She had to get out of here. It wouldn’t do to have Judkins come out of the building and see her still sitting in her car.
Summoning the last of her self-control, she started the car, drove out of the parking lot, and headed home. She’d done the only right thing, she told herself. There was no way she would have accepted her boss’s invitation. But at what price?
His implied threat had been unethical. She could file a complaint with the school board. Maybe she should. But with no witnesses, who would believe her? He’d invited her to dinner, that was all. He’d left the door open when she’d asked, and he hadn’t laid a hand on her. But he had implied, in his own subtle way, that if he chose to, he could see that she never taught school in Texas again.
She was too emotional, and too inexperienced, to think this out on her own. But there was a friend she could talk to, someone calm, wise, and sensible who might understand the situation. Maybe Jess could help her find some answers.
Jess’s silver Ford Taurus was parked in the driveway. She was home. And Wynette would be working till six o’clock, so they’d be alone for now. This could be the best time to talk.
Grace found her roommate in the kitchen cutting vegetables into thin slices. A pot of rice simmered on the stove. Jess looked up and smiled. Tall and dark, with her hair pinned up in a classic twist, she was dressed in the simple gray knit pants and sweater she’d worn to work. Something about her always reminded Grace of a French fashion model, although Jess would have laughed at the comparison. She kept mostly to herself and seemed an odd fit for a small rural town. But since she’d bought a home here, it appeared that she meant to stay.
She scraped a mound of chopped onion off the cutting board and into a sizzling cast-iron pan, then added some minced garlic. “I got off early today and thought Chinese sounded good. Since there’s no takeout here—” Her expression changed to one of concern. “You look stressed, Grace. Is something wrong?”
Grace set her purse on the table. “Actually, yes. I need your wisdom.”
“I can’t promise wisdom, but I’ll be happy to listen and sympathize. What’s the matter? Is it Sam or your ex—?” She caught herself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s all right. And no, it isn’t Sam. He and I are just friends. And Nicky is history. This problem is work related, and it’s serious. Give me a minute to wash up. Then I can help you as we talk.”