Fighting to Win (Rocky River Fighters 4)

“You sure are big on what’s appropriate and what’s not, aren’t you?” he asked with a smirk.

“I have to be. I’m a teacher, and it’s my job to teach them how to react in different situations,” she snapped.

“No, your job is to teach them math and English and shit. Teaching my daughter how to respond to stuff like that is my job.” His glare was as lethal as his fists.

Holly glared back, her blood pressure rising. The way he looked right now would be enough to have a grown man backing down, but she wasn’t intimidated, and she had no plans to start.

“You’re teaching her wrong. Violence isn’t the answer.”

Face darkening, he leaned in and said, “And who are you to tell me I’m doing it wrong?”

Swallowing hard, Holly shook her head and took another deep breath. They were getting way off track. He was a jerk, true, but she never got into arguments with her student’s parents, and she shouldn’t start now. One of them had to be an adult in this discussion, and clearly, it wasn’t going to be him.

“I apologize if I offended you,” she said softly, swallowing her instinctive reply along with her pride. “I was wrong to say that. I just got caught up in the heat of the moment, because violence isn’t the answer in the classroom. But it won’t happen again.”

He had the nerve to grin. “I’m sure the last part was true, but you don’t believe you’re wrong any more than you believe the sky is green.”

She hadn’t expected him to be so perceptive. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. Shelby is what matters. Look, Mr. Gallagher, I understand you have your own lifestyle, and violence is a large part of that. It’s not my place to judge, but it is my place to point it out if it’s affecting Shelby. Teaching her that violence is the answer is only going to make things difficult for her as she grows up. She’s a very sweet child, and I’d hate to see her lose that.”

“You’re right, it’s not your place to judge how I live my life. It’s not your place to judge how I raise my daughter or what I teach her. But for the sake of ending this discussion, I will tell you I never taught her to hit. Sure, she’s seen me and my friends train, but I don’t allow her anywhere around the actual fights. I’ve never talked to her about how to respond, and I’ve sure as hell never taught her how to fight.”

He was telling the truth. She knew it.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’ve talked to Shelby about how what she did was wrong, but I think it’ll go a long way if you tell her the same, if you haven’t already.”

“I said I haven’t taught her to hit, but I didn’t say I thought it was wrong. That kid had it coming, in my opinion.”

“Excuse me?” she asked in disbelief. “How can you not see that her hitting another kid is wrong? It’s completely—”

“Let me guess. Unacceptable, right? Mrs. White, that kid was making fun of her birthmark. Something she has no control over, and something she’s been tormented enough over. Her whole life, she’s been made to feel less than because of a mark on her face. How much of that is she expected to endure before it damages her self-esteem permanently? She shouldn’t be expected to take it.”

“And she doesn’t have to,” Holly shot back. “But there are other ways of dealing with it.”

He shook his head in disgust, and she’d swear he growled. “You can’t know what it’s like. You sit there, all perfect and beautiful, talking about how she should deal with everything, but you don’t know. Don’t know what it’s like to be mocked for your physical appearance. Don’t judge my daughter for something you know nothing about.”

Holly stared at him, surprised. Perfect and beautiful? Hardly. Grabbing her cane, she pushed herself up and limped around her desk, taking satisfaction in the way his eyes widened when he saw her bad leg.

“As you can see, I’m far from perfect. The skirt covers my leg, and I never wear anything that reveals it, but the cane and the limp are enough, don’t you think? Don’t talk to me about not understanding. I understand all too well. Kids can be harsh, that’s a fact. But I never resorted to punching one when I was made fun of, and Shelby doesn’t have to, either.”

IAN STOOD FROZEN, STARING AT THE BEAUTIFUL woman before him. Mrs. White was defiant, and he liked the sparkle of satisfaction in her gaze. And he couldn’t begrudge her that. She’d just made her point, a thousand times over.

Still unable to speak, he ran his gaze over her, taking her in again. She had blonde hair that fell to just below her shoulders, and her face was that of a classic beauty, reminding him of an actress from an old black and white film. Large blue eyes, creamy skin, high cheekbones, perfect lips. She was flawless. Tall for a woman, the top of her head came up past his jaw. That was unusual, since he stood a few inches over six feet.

She wore a clingy pink sweater that hugged generous breasts, and an ankle length black skirt with pink and yellow flowers. He never thought he was a fan of the buttoned-up teacher look, but then, he’d never seen a teacher who looked like this. The whole package that made up Mrs. White was gorgeous.

Shifting his weight as his tiger stirred in his chest, Ian dragged his eyes back up her body to her face, pausing and lingering on her long, elegant fingers. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but there was a thin pale line where one should rest.

Of course she was married. Her name was Mrs. White, after all. Disappointment flowed through him and he frowned. Why the hell he should care was beyond him. After the disaster that was Farrah, he vowed he was done with women, and he meant it.

Realizing he’d been silent longer than was polite, and that she could take it the wrong way, he cleared his throat. Gesturing to her leg, he said, “I’m sorry.”

Her lips curled. “Sorry for what? That my leg is messed up, or that you assumed I could never know how Shelby feels?”

“Both, I guess. Look, I’ll admit I’m new to this day to day parenting thing. And maybe not getting onto Shelby for punching someone who made fun of her was wrong, I don’t know. All I know is I can’t stand to see her hurt anymore. She’s had more than enough of that. If reacting like that, reacting in any way, helps her or makes it end, I can’t see discouraging her from it. And I wouldn’t tell her to hit someone, but I wouldn’t know the first thing about what to tell her to do differently.”

Her blue eyes softened, and for the first time, he noticed the hints of green in her gaze. They were gorgeous. Scolding himself for noticing another attractive attribute about her, he reminded himself that she was married.

“I won’t ask what she’s been through, but I know first hand that kids are cruel when it comes to someone who’s physically different,” she replied softly. “You need to tell her to walk away and find a grownup who can help. Tell her that reacting in an obvious way, like she did, is just giving the other person power over her. Think of it this way—there are some kids, teenagers, people, who would see her react as she did, and then deliberately mock and tease her, even if they previously hadn’t, just to get that kind of reaction.”